The persecution that the little band underwent before the year of their attempt to emigrate to Holland was, in the main, from neither church nor state, but only such as they had to suffer from the scoffs and jeers of their more easy-going and more commonplace neighbors and companions. In 1607, however, some one or more of these latter, possibly from a neighborly desire to pay off a grudge, apparently laid a complaint before the ecclesiastical authorities, of which the Commissioners of the Province of York had to take note; and in November, Neville, Brewster, and seven others were cited to appear. Neville, who did so, was allowed to testify without taking the usual oath, and, after a short confinement, was released without further trial. Fines were imposed upon the others for non-appearance, but beyond that no action seems to have been taken, nor were any efforts made to apprehend them.
According to the standards of the day, they were treated with leniency, and there is little to indicate that they were “harried from the land,” or that either the civil or ecclesiastical authorities were anxious to interfere with them.[[195]] Justly dreading, however, what might happen, rather than what had happened, and, perhaps, partly influenced by some of the motives which induced them to leave Holland later, they decided to flee from England secretly, and to establish a church in Amsterdam, whither a neighboring congregation had already gone. To take their departure legally, it would have been necessary to get the consent of the authorities—a matter having nothing more to do with religion than the granting of passports to-day. Neither money nor goods were allowed to leave England without governmental permit; and, as the Scrooby group intended to take both without such authorization, they had to leave clandestinely. About one hundred of them made the attempt, but were betrayed to the customs officers by the captain of the ship that was to transport them. A certain amount of the discomfort and unpleasant notoriety to which these simple and modest folk objected was undoubtedly of necessity incidental to the simultaneous arrest of so large a body of law-breakers. They were temporarily placed in confinement, for this purely secular offense, and were well treated by the magistrates, who “used them courteously, and showed them what favour they could.”[[196]] The Privy Council, which had to be advised of the attempt to evade the customs laws, acted promptly; and, in spite of the slow communication in those days, within a month all but seven, who were considered the ringleaders of the fugitives, were released and sent to their homes. The seven, of whom Brewster was one, were also freed later, apparently without even having been tried.
Some of the party reached Holland safely that autumn, and others made another attempt some months after. At the very moment of embarking from an out-of-the-way place, they were surprised by some of the country people, who notified the authorities, and such of the passengers as had not got on board were again taken into custody. Although they were known to be breaking the laws, apparently no justice or court could be found to punish them; and, when again set at liberty, they finally reached Holland in safety. Neither the Privy Council nor the ecclesiastical authorities had taken any notice of the matter. Not only had there been little or no religious persecution, but even when the refugees had obviously committed civil crimes these were officially condoned.[[197]]
After about a year in Amsterdam, owing to the quarrels that marred the life of the church earlier established, the newcomers decided to remove to Leyden, where they remained until the eventful year 1620.[[198]] Their life in the old university town, although hard in many ways, seems to have been singularly peaceful, and wholly unmarred by any of those petty bickerings and contentions so curiously characteristic of the ultra-godly of the period. They seem, indeed, to have valued “peace and their spirituall comforte above any other riches whatsoever,” and to have lived together in “love and holiness,” as Bradford wrote. Robinson was their minister, and Brewster their elder, the latter eking out his income by teaching English and printing Puritan books. The company generally set to trades and handicrafts, by which “at length they came to raise a competente and comforteable living,” and won the deserved respect of their Dutch hosts.[[199]] They seem, however, to have lived a life apart, and to have been but little influenced by the nation with which they had cast their lot. In spite of extravagant claims to the contrary, direct Dutch influence in New England, as derived through the Pilgrims' sojourn in Holland, can be traced in but one particular, that of marriage by a civil magistrate instead of a clergyman.[[200]] At that time, Holland was, in almost all respects, far ahead of England intellectually. In the matter of religious toleration she was immeasurably in advance of the rest of Europe. Dutch influence would have been a noble one, indeed, in New England's history, but there is virtually nothing to indicate its presence.[[201]]
Although there were other English in Leyden, and, therefore, the size of Robinson's congregation is difficult to determine accurately, it seems to have numbered about two hundred at the time that its members were considering their third emigration, and had decided to leave Holland.[[202]] The reasons for this decision, as given by Bradford, were the difficulty, for many, of making a living, and the unlikelihood of attracting others; the possibility that they would themselves disperse in time; the temptations which beset their children; and their desire to spread the gospel in the new world.[[203]] To these, Winslow, who had joined the group about 1617, added their wish to remain Englishmen; the inability to give their children as good an education as they themselves had received; and the somewhat ambiguous reason, “how little good we did or were like to do to the Dutch in reforming the sabbath.”[[204]] Their motives were, therefore, partly patriotic, partly economic, and partly religious, the same which, in shifting proportions and embodied in a very varied assortment of personalities, we find as mainsprings of colonization from the beginning. The one constant factor is the economic. No matter what other motives may have induced any one, from John Cabot to the last arrival at Ellis Island, to turn his face westward, added to them has ever been the hope of bettering his economic condition. America has always offered comparative material prosperity to the most idealistic as well as to the most sordid. When this factor ceases to operate, as in time, perhaps a short time, it must, American history will enter upon a new phase.
The little group of Englishmen in Leyden, who thus desired to emigrate, were without means for any such undertaking. Whatever their motives might be, it was evident that no colony could be planted, in which they were concerned, unless monied men, from the same or other motives, could be induced to risk capital in what, so far, had constantly been proved a very unprofitable business. English merchants and capitalists had already spent vast sums in the attempt to turn America to account, with but little success. The English-American balance-sheet showed a colossal amount spent in exploration and attempted development on the one page, and but a handful of people in Virginia, a feeble beginning in Bermuda, and the Newfoundland fishing fleet, on the other.
At first, the Pilgrims did not seem to realize how inadequate their resources were for such a project. Apparently, the question which they discussed most was where they should go, rather than how they should get there. Some of the more substantial and important members advocated Guiana, as they might there grow rich with little labor—which was a very human ambition.[[205]] Fear of tropical diseases and the Spaniard negatived this otherwise alluring plan. Thought of possible persecution vetoed the next proposition also, which was to settle somewhere near the colony already established in Virginia. The final decision was to live under the government of that company, but as a distinct body by themselves, after a grant of religious freedom should have been procured from the King. It is rather odd, in view of the persecution which they thought they had undergone, and that which they constantly seemed to fear, that they should have been so confident that the King would consent in writing to an act so far in advance of English thought. The fact that they had escaped any rigorous attack in England, and that their illegal acts on leaving had been condoned by the authorities, may have added to their hope of being so tenderly treated, which was unreasonably held out to them by “some great persons of good rancke and qualitie.”[[206]]
In the fall of 1617, John Carver and Robert Cushman were dispatched to London to confer with Sir Edwin Sandys about the matter. Sandys was a brother of Sir Samuel Sandys, at that time lessee of the Scrooby Manor, in which Brewster had lived, and was favorably disposed toward the Leyden people. He was also a member of the East India, Bermuda, and Virginia companies, the last of which he was virtually managing at the time of the emissaries' arrival, owing to the illness of that Company's treasurer.[[207]] The “Seven Articles of the Church at Leyden,” which the Pilgrims had carefully worded in the somewhat naïve expectation that they might satisfy the authorities without committing themselves, were privately submitted to some of the members of the Virginia Council, and approved; so that Sandys wrote hopefully of the prospects to Robinson and Brewster.[[208]] The upshot of the matter, however, was what might have been expected, or was perhaps even more favorable than should reasonably have been hoped for under the circumstances. The King would not grant them toleration under his “broad seale, according to their desires,” which would naturally have got him into serious difficulties politically; but, apparently, he did agree to “connive at them, and not molest them, provided they carried themselves peaceably.”[[209]] They wisely decided that, if this were not enough, nothing would be, for, if the King meant to wrong them “though they had a seale as broad as the house floor, it would not serve the turne, for ther would be means enow found to recall or revers it.”[[210]] With this and, perhaps, the vain regret that they had not let sleeping dogs lie, they had to be content.
The next step was to secure a patent, and find “adventurers,”—as men were still called who invested in such enterprises,—who would supply the necessary money. Owing to the dissensions in the Virginia Company, which now became acute, the negotiations were delayed; but on April 19, 1619, that company elected Sandys treasurer; and a patent, taken out in the name of John Wincob, “comended to the Company by the Earle of Lincolne,” received its seal June 9.[[211]] This was never made use of, and apparently the one they intended to utilize was that previously granted to John Pierce, on February 2, antedating a later one to the same person.[[212]]
During the following months, their efforts to raise money became known both in Holland and in England. The Dutch, now become the most important colonizing power, tried to induce them to settle either in Zealand or on the Hudson River; and they also received offers from an English merchant, Thomas Weston, who ran over from London on the scent of business. He finally prevailed upon them to make an agreement with himself and his associates. His own motives, as amply proved by events, were wholly mercenary, as were those of most of the other outsiders who financed the enterprise. The planting of the first permanent colony in New England was due to the desire for gain on the part of these ordinary business men, who risked a large sum, and made heavy losses, as well as to the higher motives of some of the actual emigrants, whose character, sense, and patience rescued the enterprise from disaster. The infant colony was the child of two parents, and the share of each in its creation must be recognized, even if one were vulgar and sordid, and subsequently disinherited its offspring.