SPEECH AT THE PLYMOUTH FESTIVAL IN COMMEMORATION OF THE EMBARKATION
OF THE PILGRIMS, AUGUST 1, 1853.
The President, Richard Warren, Esq., said they had already been
delighted with the words of a distinguished member of the Senate of
the United States [Mr. EVERETT.] They were favored with the
presence of another; and he would give as a sentiment:--
_The Senate of the United States_,--The concentrated light of the
stars of the Union.
In his reply, Mr. Sumner attempted to obtain a hearing for the
Antislavery cause and the Party of Freedom. In picturing the English
Puritans he had in mind our Antislavery Puritans, who, like their
prototypes, were at first "Separatists," and then "Independents." The
abuse showered on each was the same. Though nothing is said directly on
present affairs, they were clearly discerned behind the Puritan veil.
Such was the sensibility in certain quarters, that it was objected
to as out of place. Others were pleased with its fidelity. Among the
latter was the poet John G. Whittier, who wrote at the time: "Its tone
and bearing are unmistakable, and yet unobjectionable.... When I read
the toast which called thee up, I confess I could see very little
appropriateness in it; in fact, it seemed to me a very unpromising
text, and I almost feared to read the sermon. I enjoyed it all the
better for my misgivings."
Mr. President,--You bid me speak for the Senate of the United States.
But I know well that there is another voice here, of classical
eloquence, which might more fitly render this service. As one of the
humblest members of that body, and associated with the public councils
for a brief period only, I should prefer that my distinguished
colleague [Mr. EVERETT], whose fame is linked with a long
political life, should speak for it. And there is yet another here
[Mr. HALE], who, though not at this moment a member of the
Senate, has, throughout an active and brilliant career, marked by a
rare combination of ability, eloquence, and good-humor, so identified
himself with the Senate in the public mind that he might well speak for
it always, and when he speaks, all are pleased to listen. But, Sir, you
have ordered it otherwise.
From the tears and trials at Delft Haven, from the deck of the
Mayflower, from the landing on Plymouth Rock, to the Senate of the
United States is a mighty contrast, covering whole spaces of history,
hardly less than from the wolf that suckled Romulus and Remus to that
Roman Senate which on curule chairs swayed Italy and the world. From
these obscure beginnings of poverty and weakness, which you now piously
commemorate, and on which all our minds naturally rest to-day, you bid
us leap to that marble Capitol, where thirty-one powerful republics,
bound in common fellowship and welfare, are gathered together in
legislative body, constituting One Government, which, stretching from
ocean to ocean, and counting millions of people beneath its majestic
rule, surpasses far in wealth and might any government of the Old World
when the little band of Pilgrims left it, and now promises to be a
clasp between Europe and Asia, bringing the most distant places near
together, so that there shall be no more Orient or Occident. It were
interesting to dwell on the stages of this grand procession; but it is
enough, on this occasion, merely to glance at them and pass on.
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.
[38] Our Abolitionists and Free-Soilers were Separatists.
[39] Like the Republican party.--whose triumph is here foreshadowed.
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."
[40] This masque, entitled _Coelum Britannicum_, was performed
at Whitehall, February 18, 1633.
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:--
"New occasions teach new duties; Time makes ancient good uncouth;
They must upward still and onward who would keep abreast of Truth:
Lo, before us gleam her camp-fires! we ourselves must Pilgrims be,
Launch our Mayflower, and steer boldly through the desperate winter
sea."