Sir, it is the Pilgrims that we commemorate to-day, not the Senate. For this moment, at least, let us tread under foot all pride of empire, all exultation in our manifold triumphs of industry, science, literature, with all the crowding anticipations of the vast untold Future, that we may reverently bow before the Forefathers. The day is theirs. In the contemplation of their virtue we derive a lesson which, like truth, may judge us sternly, but, if we can really follow it, like truth, shall make us free. For myself, I accept the admonition of the day. It may teach us all, though few in numbers or alone, never, by word or act, to swerve from those primal principles of duty, which, from the landing on Plymouth Rock, have been the life of Massachusetts. Let me briefly unfold the lesson,—though to the discerning soul it unfolds itself.
Few persons in history have suffered more from contemporary misrepresentation, abuse, and persecution, than the English Puritans. At first a small body, they were regarded with indifference and contempt. But by degrees they grew in numbers, and drew into their company education, intelligence, and even rank. Reformers in all ages have had little of blessing from the world they sought to serve. But the Puritans were not disheartened. Still they persevered. The obnoxious laws of conformity they vowed to withstand, till, in the fervid language of the time, "they be sent back to the darkness from whence they came." Through them the spirit of modern Freedom made itself potently felt, in great warfare with Authority, in Church, in Literature, and in State,—in other words, for religious, intellectual, and political emancipation. The Puritans primarily aimed at religious freedom: for this they contended in Parliament, under Elizabeth and James; for this they suffered: but, so connected are all these great and glorious interests, that the struggles for one have always helped the others. Such service did they do, that Hume, whose cold nature sympathized little with their burning souls, is obliged to confess that "the precious spark of Liberty had been kindled and was preserved by the Puritans alone," and he adds, that "to this sect the English owe the whole freedom of their Constitution."
As among all reformers, so among them were differences of degree. Some continued within the pale of the National Church, and there pressed their ineffectual attempts in behalf of the good cause. Some at length, driven by conscientious convictions, and unwilling to be partakers longer in its enormities, stung also by cruel excesses of magisterial power, openly disclaimed the National Establishment, and became a separate sect, first under the name of Brownists, from the person who led in this new organization, and then under the better name of Separatists. I like this word, Sir. It has a meaning.[38] After long struggles in Parliament and out of it, in Church and State, prolonged through successive reigns, the Puritans finally triumphed, and the despised sect of Separatists, swollen in numbers, and now under the denomination of Independents,[39] with Oliver Cromwell at their head and John Milton as his Secretary, ruled England. Thus is prefigured the final triumph of all, however few in numbers, who sincerely devote themselves to Truth.
The Pilgrims of Plymouth were among the earliest of the Separatists. As such, they knew by bitter experience all the sharpness of persecution. Against them the men in power raged like the heathen. Against them the whole fury of the law was directed. Some were imprisoned, all were impoverished, while their name became a by-word of reproach. For safety and freedom the little band first sought shelter in Holland, where they continued in obscurity and indigence for more than ten years, when they were inspired to seek a home in this unknown Western world. Such, in brief, is their history. I could not say more of it without intruding upon your time; I could not say less without injustice to them.
Rarely have austere principles been expressed with more gentleness than from their lips. By a covenant with the Lord, they had vowed to walk in all his ways, according to their best endeavors, whatsoever it should cost them,—and also to receive whatsoever truth should be made known from the written word of God. Repentance and prayers, patience and tears, were their weapons. "It is not with us," said they, "as with other men, whom small things can discourage or small discontentments cause to wish themselves at home again." And then again, on another occasion, their souls were lifted to utterance like this: "When we are in our graves, it will be all one, whether we have lived in plenty or penury, whether we have died in a bed of down or on locks of straw." Self-sacrifice is never in vain, and with the clearness of prophecy they foresaw that out of their trials should come a transcendent Future. "As one small candle," said an early Pilgrim Governor, "may light a thousand, so the light kindled here may in some sort shine even to the whole nation." And these utterances were crowned by the testimony of the English governor and historian, whose sympathy for them was as little as that of Hume for the Puritans, confessing it doubtful "whether Britain would have had any colonies in America at this day, if religion had not been the grand inducement,"—thus honoring our Pilgrims.
And yet these men, with such sublime endurance, lofty faith, and admirable achievement, are among those sometimes called "Puritan knaves" and "knaves-Puritans," and openly branded by King James as "very pests in the Church and Commonwealth." The small company of our forefathers became jest and gibe of fashion and power. The phrase "men of one idea" was not invented then; but, in equivalent language, they were styled "the pinched fanatics of Leyden." A contemporary poet and favorite of Charles the First, Thomas Carew, lent his genius to their defamation. A masque, from his elegant and careful pen, was performed by the monarch and his courtiers, turning the whole plantation of New England to royal sport. The jeer broke forth in the exclamation, that it had "purged more virulent humors from the politic body than guaiacum and all the West Indian drugs have from the natural bodies of this kingdom."[40]
And these outcasts, despised in their own day by the proud and great, are the men whom we have met in this goodly number to celebrate,—not for any victory of war,—not for any triumph of discovery, science, learning, or eloquence,—not for worldly success of any kind. How poor are all these things by the side of that divine virtue which, amidst the reproach, the obloquy, and the hardness of the world, made them hold fast to Freedom and Truth! Sir, if the honors of this day are not a mockery, if they do not expend themselves in mere self-gratulation, if they are a sincere homage to the character of the Pilgrims,—and I cannot suppose otherwise,—then is it well for us to be here. Standing on Plymouth Rock, at their great anniversary, we cannot fail to be elevated by their example. We see clearly what it has done for the world, and what it has done for their fame. No pusillanimous soul here to-day will declare their self-sacrifice, their deviation from received opinions, their unquenchable thirst for liberty, an error or illusion. From gushing multitudinous hearts we now thank these lowly men that they dared to be true and brave. Conformity or compromise might, perhaps, have purchased for them a profitable peace, but not peace of mind; it might have secured place and power, but not repose; it might have opened present shelter, but not a home in history and in men's hearts till time shall be no more. All must confess the true grandeur of their example, while, in vindication of a cherished principle, they stood alone, against the madness of men, against the law of the land, against their king. Better the despised Pilgrim, a fugitive for freedom, than the halting politician, forgetful of principle, "with a Senate at his heels."
Such, Sir, is the voice from Plymouth Rock, as it salutes my ears. Others may not hear it; but to me it comes in tones which I cannot mistake. I catch its words of noble cheer:—