UNDER THE LINDENS OF LEYDEN.
The chimes from the spire of the State House rang out an evening hour. There seemed no unusual portent in this daily custom to the ear of workers in the busy city turning homewards at close of day. Yet in that hour on that calm evening of early summer, history was being made for that city, and to its honored name was added an interest for thousands of a future day by the seemingly unimportant event then taking place.
A large canal boat, one of the many that plied between Amsterdam and Leyden, was nearing its mooring at the close of the day’s trip and a number of persons were on the quay apparently awaiting its arrival. The boat was heavily ladened with freight and passengers, the household belongings and persons of a number of families. If some of the members looked a trifle anxious, all seemed happy and still interested in all to be viewed at the end of a pleasant journey that had been full of new sights for the majority. A pleasanter voyage than many had experienced within the year, and with much uncertainty and strangeness eliminated from this landing at Leyden which had harassed their arrival at Amsterdam; for these are the pilgrims from England, to whom the authorities of this city had recently given permission for residence, in reply to a petition sent in their behalf from Amsterdam, by their pastor, John Robinson.
The English were already well known in Leyden and some of this party had been there to rent houses and survey the prospect. More than casual glances were given these new arrivals, for, though evidently poor people and certainly, as yet, unknown, their appearance was distinguished even in their plain clothes of English fashion, different to the gay apparel of the natives.
The accounts of this beginning of their sojourn in a new locality are somewhat meagre, nevertheless they furnish ground for speculation and conclusions not unjustified. Our interest follows the women we already know and others whom we are soon to know, as they once more endeavor to solve the problems of home-keeping with slender resources, their characteristics of patience and courage again to the test. An admonition surely given by their beloved pastor must have dwelt in their thoughts to “stand fast in one spirit, with one mind striving together ... and in nothing terrified.”
The advantages of living in a prosperous, progressive and highly civilized city were not long in being realized by these women. Though, at first, their homes were in the poorer part of the city, their industry and energy supplementing that of the men, who soon found plenty of employment in the trades of the city, particularly the cloth and silk weaving, enabled them to live fairly comfortably. The markets of fish and vegetables saw them as daily customers, and even the flower market found them as occasional visitors to delight the children as well as themselves. The public schools gave to many of the children more of an education than their mothers had had; this opportunity for free knowledge, as well as the hospitals, homes for the aged, orphan asylums, were some of the marvels of this new life. Books and pictures were so moderate in price as to be available for all.
The contrasts between the conditions which tended towards the benefit and advancement of the plain people in their present home and those which were only for the benefit of the wealthy and aristocratic class in their old home were as easily seen by his companions now as they had been by William Brewster years before.
The objects above all the planning for the routine of practical life were that they might have food and comfort, peace and quiet to worship God.
They were not without news of England, for their community was constantly increased by new arrivals, who, hearing of the success of their venture, came to try the experiment themselves; some remaining as true friends and burden sharers, others returning.
Scarcely three years passed before the women had the joy of moving into attractive newly built cottages on a piece of ground in a very desirable location for their needs, bought by several of the men for all in common. All were now in good circumstances retained by continual labor, however. The nearness of the famous University was a satisfaction to the many intellectual men of the party, both to enter as students or to read in its library.
That the content of the men was reflected by the women is without doubt, for if the men in a family are fairly happy it is easy for the women to be so, and, on their own account they had reason to be lighthearted. Their cosy little houses were built at the sides of the piece of property, the center becoming a small park or community garden with sanded walks, flower bordered. The pastor’s house, at one end, was the largest and finest, for in it the Sunday services and three teaching services or lectures were held, as they had been held in the old manor house in Scrooby.
Besides their two indefatigable and honored leaders, the pastor and William Brewster, now an elder in their Church, the community was fortunate in having among them the young doctor, a widower, whose home was kept by his sister, Anna. Her self-reliant, decisive character must have been highly sympathetic and congenial to her brother. The life of Anna Fuller is one of those most discernable to us in that coterie of women, after the lapse of the long years. Tactful and clever she was, and a favorite with all. Between her and Mary Brewster there grew a warm attachment.
A friend to them both and to many others, was Katherine Carver (the wife of John Carver, a prominent and valued man of their company) whose lovely character endeared her to them, but whose chief interest in life was her husband and what concerned him.
Ann Tilly and the wife of James Chilton added to the group of these young matrons who enjoyed their quiet but not altogether uneventful lives in mutual sympathy and esteem. We must admire the smoothness with which they managed their affairs, taking into consideration the varying temperaments among them; tact and unselfishness, wisdom and charitableness must indeed have been taught them by “the grave Mistress Experience,” and not only among themselves was it observable, but also with their new, interested and friendly neighbors, the women of that Dutch city, through whom they became acquainted with its manners and customs and to feel quite familiar with them. Their children and the Dutch children soon became friends and through them the mothers of each began their knowledge of one another, to their mutual advantage. We know the pride of the native women in their city and how ready and willing they were to show its sights and relate its history to these interested strangers.
Thus we can easily fancy a party coming along Belfry Lane and through other streets on their way to visit the Burg, a promised treat to the children and desired by their elders. Ann Tilly is taking the children of her household—two little cousins and a niece—having none of her own, whom she has mothered. Mistress Chilton has with her, her daughter; Mary Brewster and her two daughters walk with Katherine Carver; Anna Fuller and the Carpenter girls—one soon to be her sister-in-law—and one or two boys, a lively party, all accompanied by some Dutch friends as guides.
Leyden was at that time full of reminders of the war with Spain, its part of it having been the great siege. Up on the Burg the country for miles around lies before them, and as they look, the story is told and they try to picture just where and how the battle was fought. Doubtless some old soldier was on the Burg, that bright afternoon, living for himself again that time of suffering and valor, and glad to recount many of the details and describe where had been a particular Spanish redoubt, or just where such a regiment had been stationed, or the location of a General’s headquarters.
We of days far from theirs are yet joined to their experiences of that afternoon of our fancy if we have chanced on a similar recital from one who had participated in another war with Spain in a very different country and setting, a war in which the descendants of some of these women had a part. From the wall of an old Spanish castle near Manila, a party of women, one of them the present writer, looked over the surrounding plain on an afternoon not many years ago, while the then American owner, their host, related just such details and anecdotes of the Philippine incident in the war with Spain, already some years in the past; there was a battery of the United States regulars; the insurgents came in here; a far glimpse of the sunlit harbor showed where Dewey’s ships lay; and so on. By such a touch does a string on the harp of life sing on through the centuries.
Coming home, they would visit the City Hall, where were then kept many mementos and relics of victory upon which they could look with wondering earnestness, feeling as we when today viewing objects closely connected with the World War, so recently in our thoughts.
The blossoms of the lindens fell over the grey wall enclosing the old cloister wherein the veiled nuns had walked, fell over into another garden and around other women of whom the cloistered nuns had never heard, and to whom they were but a name; lives in deepest contrast, lived in neighboring environment yet divided by a grey stone wall and many years.
At a well by the old wall several young women have gathered, some to get water for their household use, others to meet them there for a gossip—for even in the little colony of English Separatists living so quietly on their own ground, itself almost a cloister, in the gay city of Leyden there was, of course, gossip in its friendly and sociable meaning. But chat between the women only is interrupted, and apparently to their amusement, by small boys and girls all eagerness at a tale one of their number is telling of an exciting event in their school life that day; no less than the story of how the Prince’s ball fell into the canal and he took the boat hook belonging to an old woman who lived near, never thinking she would object, and fished the ball safely out. A tale with an apparently happy ending, but not so, the old woman mistaking Prince Frederick for just an everyday boy scolded him well, and when some one called out that it was the Prince who had borrowed her boat hook, she was so overcome and frightened that she ran in her house and they could not coax her out, for she said they would take her to prison.
Smiles fade as a shadow of remembrance crosses the minds of some of the listeners at prison experiences they have known, and perhaps a thought of contrast that here, in this democratic land, their children have as playmate a prince of the blood, while in their own country they might scarcely ever have seen one. A few of the young men have wandered towards the well, since evening is advancing and their day’s employments are over; here are Edward Southworth, William Bradford, Robert Cushman, William White,—and, severally, Alice Carpenter, Mary Singleton and Anna Fuller may no longer be monopolized by the children, while Patience Brewster is glad to hear of her friend in Amsterdam, Dorothy May, from William Bradford, who visits Elder May rather frequently.
In fact, news from Amsterdam was quite regularly brought by visitors as well as by those of their own company returning, since seeds of romance sown in the early days of their sojourn were bearing fruit, and engagements were so frequent that one was scarcely talked of before another came up for consideration.
Thus it was not surprising to see Samuel Fuller leaning across the half door of the Carpenter’s cottage, while Agnes, presumably waiting for Alice to return from the well, on the other side of the door, smiled at him. Not unlikely that Edward Southworth and the doctor will both be asked to supper, for the Carpenter household, with five gay, pretty girls in it was not a dull one. One of the households soonest to break away, however, from the present surroundings; after three of his daughters married, Alexander Carpenter moved the rest of his family to his old home in England. Anna Fuller noticing her brother’s absorption and knowing from rather frequent experience that he may forget about the supper she will provide for him, decides on spending the evening away from home, herself. To her neighbor and special friend, Mary Allerton, she will be a gladly welcomed guest—she who, a year ago was Mary Norris, and for whom Anna had been a witness at her marriage to Isaac Allerton. Sarah, Isaac’s sister, who lived with them, was good company also, and if Degory Priest should happen by, as was more than likely, to walk with Sarah to the weekly lecture at Pastor Robinson’s and if William White should come too, still less unlikely, she would tell him that—“yes she would marry him, when Samuel married Agnes Carpenter and was off her hands and mind.”
In this group of pilgrims there were many young men and girls, therefore many were the love tales told under the lindens and marriages frequent during their sojourn.
The Botanical Gardens at Leyden, one of the city’s proud possessions, must have held the usual charm for walks of sweethearts and wives and the men of their choice on a Sunday afternoon that seems to be evident everywhere there are Gardens, in any era and place, from Edinburgh to Hong Kong.
The annual Kermiss also witnessed many visitors from among these strangers, and the other holidays and sports came in time to be almost as familiar and enjoyable as though known in their own country.
Good health and fairly comfortable living made comparatively light hearts, among the younger set especially.
We are glad to picture these years of their life in Leyden when their industry and thrift brought them to pleasant days of living, and the cheerfulness and peace of their little community attracted visitors and favorable comments. These days were lighted by hope, a hope that they might through some fortunate possibility be able to return to their beloved England and live in the unmolested peace and independence there which they had found here.
Prosperity again found Mary Brewster, for her husband becoming a much respected teacher of languages in the University, was soon able to win a comfortable and adequate living for his family, and, as always, the Brewsters were ever ready with sympathy and help to those less well off than they; indeed one of the chief supports in this thoroughly religious body of people was their convention of mutual help and friendliness.
Mary, as well as her husband, was always available as the confidant of their neighbors, therefore a frequent witness for the young couples who went to the State House, according to the custom of the country, to declare their intentions of marriage, and we feel sure the interest did not stop there, and that she and her daughters helped with the simple festivities connected with these marriages. A member of the University was exempt from tax on homemade wines and brew, and as both were common beverages at that time, and made in all households, her wine and cooking receipts must have been frequently used.
While the history of these Pilgrims may be told, and has been, with casual if any reference to the women, the story of the women must hinge on reference to the whole Pilgrim story. Looking at them from our position, down the long vista, seeing the background of which they were hardly conscious, the foreground invisible to them, their reality and aliveness should be vividly lighted by all the colors of romance which only distance may give and we should be able to get the feeling that things had for them, at least. A few plain, loyal, trustful women living their daily lives with no dream of a place in history, yet on whom else may we look entitled to a softer, more caressing glow from the flame of fame?
Julianna Carpenter, the eldest sister, married George Morton, before the lindens bloomed again, followed soon by the marriages of Agnes to the wise and popular young doctor, the doctor’s sister to William White, as she had said, and the lively young widow, Sarah, sister of Isaac Allerton, to Degory Priest. Their mutual satisfaction and happiness was punctured by the shock of the sudden death of one of their number, Agnes Fuller; the whole community was stirred by the fact that so unexpectedly, the doctor was again a widower. Thus their recurring measure of joy and sorrow, pleasure and trouble, success and endeavor.
We may well hope that, in the fullness of time, our days may be looked upon with the same search-light of sympathy and understanding which we turn upon theirs.
Another year more wedded couples were added to the list—it was a sign of their hopefulness that marriage among them was encouraged and the remarriage of the widowed favored. Alice Carpenter married Edward Southworth and William Bradford brought his bride from Amsterdam, Dorothy May. It was in the late autumn that she came to Leyden to renew some childhood’s friendships. The marriage of another friend of Alice Southworth occurred at a slightly later date when Robert Cushman married Mary Singleton. So these younger and important men of the settlement took on new responsibilities, and after a while Dr. Fuller tried a third time and found with Bridget Lee a more permanent happiness in matrimony.
The very little girls, as the years passed, were replaced by others, while they grew into the places of maidenhood left vacant by the younger matrons. Thus Mary Chilton, Bridget Robinson, Priscilla Mullins, Patience and Fear Brewster, Desire Minter, Humility Cooper, formed a lively group in which Elizabeth Tilly and Mercy Robinson claimed membership though somewhat younger.
The famous storks of Holland were good enough to bring many rosy babies to the little homes of this English colony, so the joy and amusement of babyhood was never lacking.
Into this little world a passing traveller entered, a young man of some wealth and position in England, who having heard of the community, thought to look upon it as of transient interest, and desiring to meet William Brewster, John Robinson and others whose writings printed by their own established press were attracting attention. In truth he was more interested in the printing press than the writings, being reputed himself a printer, and as a worker in one art or trade or profession desires to see the results or products of another in that same class, Edward Winslow entered the life of the Brewsters, the Robinsons, the Allertons, the Bradfords, but most particularly into the life of Elizabeth Barker, and since it was her world it became his, too, henceforth. Almost the last romance of these peaceful years witnessed by the lindens and the old grey wall.
Soon thereafter a rift became apparent in the harmony of existence in the garden colony and it was Mary Brewster who heard it first. Again she experienced the haunting anxiety on her husband’s account, which she well knew of old, and from the same source—persecution by the royal authorities in England and their representatives in Holland. The cause was the printing press and the sentiments it set forth. The hunt for the unknown though suspected printer at that time is an entertaining story told by various chroniclers of the history of these people and reminds one of the somewhat similar search for the hidden printer of our modern times who issued the prescribed little Belgian newspaper during the occupation of that country by the Germans.
Suddenly in addition to this personal touch of unrest came a focus in the national affairs of their adopted country, which centered in Leyden, and while of great interest to them, as such matters have been, and are, to us, are always bound to increase uncertainty and instability of daily concerns.
The scope of the present work is not to dwell on the general events of history, but only as their effects touched the lives of the women of our story. Gradually it had come to be recognized, also, that the younger generation among them was fast becoming more Dutch than English, as was natural from environment. And since their object had never been other than to remain English people and to send the enlightening word of their religious freedom and church’s independence back to their own people, now that the advantage of their printing press was about to be denied them this advancement was at an end.
These subjects for reflection and others equally compelling brought them to a point in their destiny for which Providence in the preceding years had been preparing them by the variation of their experience, the widening of their horizons, the increasing knowledge of humanity and capacity for labor and economy which came as assets of their exile from home in a land of comparative freedom.
The women had as much opportunity for facing these questions and facts and discussing them among themselves as the men, and the possibility of giving up all that they had won for the sake of their faith and ideals loomed as evident before them as to those upon whom they not only depended but supported by their love and loyalty.
Thus prior to the all-important conference called at Pastor Robinson’s house, many of them had set to withdraw their thoughts from the comparative ease and prosperity of the past ten years, and drill their minds to becoming again way-farers and makers of new homes elsewhere. Where else, indeed? Many suggestions were made before the answer was determined. When it became definitely known to the city authorities that these peaceful, industrious and altogether desirable inhabitants were thinking of severing their connection with them, they announced their regret publicly in complimentary terms. Also an offer was made that these would-be pioneers continue under the flag of the Netherlands as colonists. But it was their own flag, their own nationality for which they were about to sacrifice much and for which they stood ready to endure more in the future.
At the assembly at John Robinson’s house where the congregation met for final decision, it was resolved that if the vote showed a majority in favor of remaining a while longer, the Pastor should remain with them, and for those who wished to emigrate immediately, William Brewster, their Elder, should be their spiritual leader, while awaiting the coming of the rest.
In regard to this vote, one writer has said, “It cannot be known whether or not the women of the church had a vote in the matter. Presumably they did not, for the primitive church gave good heed to the words of Paul, ‘Let your women keep silence in the churches.’ Neither can it be known—if they had a voice—whether the wives and daughters of some of the embarking Pilgrims, who did not go themselves at this time, voted with their husbands and fathers for removal.” If this exactness is lacking, we may feel a certain knowledge that each woman was aware of how the vote which affected her and hers would be cast. One is somehow reminded of the old story, though of modern times, of a certain pastor receiving a call to a larger field of usefulness who retired to seek Divine guidance. During this time a member of the congregation called for information on the subject. The pastor’s little daughter received the visitor, and in reply to the important question said, “I can’t say exactly—Father is praying but Mother is packing.”
During the time between the actual decision and final satisfactory arrangements for departure—we can fancy the women’s days being particularly trying. Breaking up homes—deciding what would be needed most in the unknown land and in the restricted space alloted to each one’s belongings on a small ship. Cooking and table utensils were commonly of pewter and wood—so anxiety of modern movings regarding breakage was lessened—books, clothing and furniture required the same attention as we experience in packing. And looking-glasses! Mrs. Robinson’s sister, Jane White, had married soon after their arrival in Leyden, Randolph Tickens, a manufacturer of looking-glasses, so although the Tickens family were not to go among the first, a looking-glass or two were certainly to be found space for. If they were such as the mirror of Mary, Queen of Scots, though of earlier make, and shown to visitors in Holyrood Castle, they were not very desirable or useful, giving but a hazy reflection of any one’s good looks—but they may have been satisfactory when new.
The day before the breaking up of the community came at last, as all days do, though seemingly far off when first recognized as approaching. That evening was spent by all, at the Pastor’s house, at supper and with music. If verging on tragedy to us, as on-lookers, what must it have been for them?
The barges are moored at the quay—near the Nuns Bridge—were any of their thoughts flung back, as ours are, to the day of their arrival at Leyden eleven years before? This party is large, as many who would return, for a time, are going with the others to see them depart. Some have already gone and are in England making final arrangements—so Mary Brewster, Katherine Carver, and Mary Cushman are without their husbands at present—though the sons of the Brewster and Cushman families are at their mother’s side—while Katherine Carver has the unfailing attention of the tall, strong, young man, devoted to her husband’s interests, John Howland.
Anna Fuller White (since her marriage called more often by her full name, Susanna), has her husband and little son, Resolved, a fitting name for the first born of this woman. Her brother, the doctor, is of the emigrating party, (with a young assistant), but his wife and baby will stay behind. The children of some are to go with them, while those of others will remain with relatives—thus the little son of Dorothy and William Bradford has gone to his grand-parents at his mother’s old home in Amsterdam. The sadness in the eyes of some of the women as they look back at the fair and beautiful city, which has sheltered them so kindly, is formed of regret that all may not remain together in this departure, as well as a sigh for the happy years now gone.
THE FIRE OF FAITH.
The cradle that was brought across the sea for the first New England baby. May be seen in Pilgrim Hall, Plymouth.