THE HALT.
“Weep ye not for the dead, neither bemoan him; but weep sore for
him that goeth away: for he shall return no more, nor see his
native country.” JER. 22:10.
When the Pilgrims stepped from the deck of their vessel upon the
quays of Amsterdam, they felt that sad, aching sense of utter
desolation which always smites exiled hearts in a strange country.
But there was much about Amsterdam which tended to increase this
natural homesickness, and to make the blood pulse still more coldly
through their veins. Every thing was novel; the manners, the costume,
the architecture, the language of the people. Their first steps were
involved in an apparently inextricable maze; they were confounded by
the bewildering confusion of land and water. Canals, crawled with
their sluggish water, before them and behind them, to the right and
to the left. Indeed, the town was so much interwoven with havens,
that the oozy ground was cut up into ninety-five islands or detached
blocks, connected with each other by two hundred and ninety fantastic
bridges. The principal havens, called grachts, were from a hundred to
a hundred and forty feet wide, and extended in semicircular curves
one after the other through the town.
In order to reach the interior of the city, it was necessary to
cross a number of these broad harbors; and in making the necessary
deflections in passing from gracht to gracht, all recollection of
the points of the compass vanished from the minds of the bewildered
Englishmen, so that they received the impression that they were
wandering in a labyrinth from which it was impossible to escape by
their own unaided efforts.
The houses were built of brick, and were generally four or five
stories high, with fantastic, pointed gables in front. Some of them
were elegantly constructed; but the larger number of the citizens
seemed desirous of making their dwellings look as like warehouses as
possible. Almost every house had a piece of timber projecting from
the wall over the uppermost window in the gable, and this was used
for hauling up fuel or furniture to the top story. All the residences
were erected upon piles of wood driven into the soft, marshy ground;
but so insufficient was this precaution in giving stability, that
many of the buildings leaned considerably from the perpendicular, and
seemed as if about to topple over into the street or splash out of
sight through the mud. The roadway between the houses and the water
was so narrow, that in some of the finest streets a coach could not
conveniently turn round.
Such were some of the strange sights which greeted the wondering eyes
of the Pilgrims as they hurriedly trod, on the day of their arrival,
from the quay where they had landed, into the interior of the quaint
old town in search of lodgings.
A brief residence sufficed to familiarize the exiles with the
peculiarities of the city. They soon discovered that Amsterdam
stood upon the southern bank of the Ai, a neck of the sea which
possessed the appearance of a navigable frith. They examined the
quays and piers which rose sheer out of the water, so as to afford
the greatest facility for the shipment of goods from the abounding
warehouses. They wondered at the peculiar form of the town, which was
semicircular, with its straight side on the Ai, while the bow swept
several miles inland. The canals were fed by the river Amstel, from
which the town was named. An immense exterior belt of water, which
the Dutch termed “the cingel,” pursued a zig-zag line round the sites
of ancient bastions, which were then crowned with windmills, whose
long arms and tireless fingers were incessantly employed in snatching
up the ever-encroaching water, and casting it far out into the sea.
From the condition of a fishing-village on the Amstel, in the
thirteenth century, Amsterdam had risen, under the fostering
privileges of the counts of Flanders, to be a commercial town of some
importance even in the fourteenth century. The establishment of the
Dutch independence so greatly accelerated its prosperity, that in
the beginning of the seventeenth century it had attained the first
rank as a maritime city. Antwerp, the old El Dorado, was eclipsed.
Amsterdam became the entrepôt of commerce; ships visited it from all
nations; its merchants were famed for their honesty and frugality;
and its great bank enabled it to take the lead in the pecuniary
concerns of Europe. The city was inhabited by a quarter of a million
of souls; and seated in its swamp, it was the freest town in the
world. It was a city of refuge to the oppressed of all nations; and
therein, perhaps, lay the secret of its wonderful prosperity.
Amsterdam was the Venice of the Netherlands. It was literally a
spot which had been wrung from the grasp of the unwilling and
ever-protesting sea. A perpetual Waterloo conflict was waged between
the persistent Hollander and old Neptune for the possession of
the soil which man’s skill had usurped. The city, and indeed the
Netherlands at large, formed the “debatable ground” of this unique
struggle between humanity and the elements. The whole country was a
morass, whose buildings were constructed on huge piles; and it was
this that gave rise to the saying of Erasmus, that “multitudes of his
countrymen were like birds, living on the tops of trees.” Across the
forehead of the Netherlands brains and persistence had written their
motto, “_Labor omnia vincit_.”[41]
Such was the city in which the Pilgrims now found themselves
domesticated. In some things they found it easy to assimilate with
their new neighbors: a common faith was one strong bond of union; a
passion for liberty was another. But there were not lacking strong
points of dissimilarity. The Pilgrims were orderly and staid; yet
they never could reconcile themselves to that spirit of system,
or precise, long-authorized method, which formed one of the most
remarkable traits in the manners of the Dutch. In all departments of
their social economy they seemed to act upon established rules, from
which it was esteemed a species of heresy to depart. There were rules
for visiting, for sending complimentary messages, for making domestic
announcements, for bestowing alms, for out-of-door recreations—every
thing was required to be done in a certain way, and no other way was
right. Society was an incarnate rule.
Another thing which puzzled the Pilgrims was, that in their various
walks they observed that every house was provided with one or more
mirrors in frames, fastened by wire rods on the outsides of the
windows, and at such an angle as to command a complete view both of
the doorway and of all that passed in the street. They afterwards
found that these looking-glasses were universal in Holland, and were
the solace of the ladies while following their domestic avocations.
But the exiles were too grateful for toleration to be hypercritical.
“They knew that they were _Pilgrims_, and looked not much on these
things, but lifted up their eyes to heaven, their dearest country,
and quieted their spirits.”[42] They spent no time in idleness, but
with stout hearts went to work. They had been bred to agricultural
pursuits; but in Holland they were obliged to learn mechanical
trades. Brewster became a printer;[43] Bradford learned the art of
dyeing silk.[44] Some learned to weave, and found employment in the
cloth guilds and at the looms. But though grim poverty often pinched
them, and their temporal circumstances were never very prosperous,
they yet praised God for what they had; and exile and the bond of a
common misfortune knit their hearts close together, so that their
spiritual enjoyment in each other’s society was precious and full.[45]
Amsterdam was not altogether a city of strangers. There were some
there already, who, like themselves, had left their native island for
conscience’ sake.[46] But though they had formed a church, its vitals
were torn by fierce dissension. The feud blazed when Robinson and his
friends reached Holland; since nothing could placate the resentment
of the hostile parties, the Pilgrims, fearful of the baleful
effect of the quarrel upon themselves, decided, after a sojourn of
twelve months, to remove from Amsterdam to the neighboring city of
Leyden.[47]
“While Amsterdam was rising into mercantile wealth, Leyden was
acquiring literary reputation. By a singular but honorable
preference, the citizens, on being offered by William the Silent, in
1575, as a reward for their valor during the famous siege, either a
remission of taxes or the foundation of a university, at once chose
the university. The city had obtained the appellation of the Athens
of the West. But with its scholastic cloisters it combined busy
manufactures: while in one street the student was engaged with his
books, in another the weaver was seated at his loom. But all breathed
quietude and liberty; and it is difficult to imagine a more inviting
home than that which Leyden presented to these weary, sore-footed
Pilgrims as they trod along the pleasant road from Amsterdam,
‘seeking peace above all other riches.’
“If the history of the city they had left was calculated to stimulate
them to industry, the story of the town they were entering was
adapted to keep alive their love of liberty. Traces might still be
seen of the effects of the heroic deed performed by the citizens
of Leyden, when, contending for their freedom, they preferred to
inundate their city and give it to the sea, rather than submit to the
cruel tyranny of Spain.”[48]
Here, as before at Amsterdam, they fell to work. “Being now
pitched,” says Bradford, “they fell to such trades and employments as
they best could, valuing peace and their spiritual comfort above any
other riches whatsoever; and at length they came to raise a competent
and decent living, but with hard and continual labor.”[49]
In Leyden the Pilgrims remained for many years, “enjoying much sweet
society and spiritual comfort together in the ways of God, under
the able and prudent government of Mr. John Robinson. Yea, such was
the mutual love and respect which this worthy man had to his flock
and his flock to him, that it might be said of them, as it once was
of the famous emperor Marcus Aurelius[50] and the people of Rome,
that it was hard to judge whether he delighted more in having such a
people, or they in having such a pastor. His love was great towards
them, and his care was always bent for their best good, both for soul
and body; for besides his singular ability in divine things—wherein
he excelled—he was very able to give direction in civil affairs, and
to foresee dangers and inconveniences; by which means he was very
helpful to the outward estates of the exiles, and so was in every way
a common father to them.”[51]
Mr. William Brewster was Robinson’s assistant, and “he was now called
and chosen by the church” to fill the place of elder.[52] The
Pilgrims “grew in knowledge and gifts and other graces of the Spirit
of God, and lived together in peace and love and holiness; and as
many came unto them from divers parts of England, they grew to be
a great congregation. If at any time differences arose or offences
broke out—as it cannot be but sometimes there will, even among the
best of men—they were ever so met with and nipped in the bud betimes,
or otherwise so well compassed, as still love, peace, and communion,
were preserved; or else the church was purged of those that were
incorrigible, when, after much patience used, no other means would
serve—which seldom came to pass.”[53]
Though strict in their discipline and strongly attached to their
distinctive principles, the Leyden exiles were far from being bigots.
Robinson, though, in Cotton Mather’s phrase, “he had been in his
younger time—as very good fruit hath sometimes been, ere age hath
ripened it—soured by the principles of rigid separation,”[54] was now
developed into a man of large-hearted benevolence and enlightened
catholicity. Over his flock he breathed this heavenly spirit.
Nothing more offended him than the conduct of those “who cleaved
unto themselves, and retired from the common good.”[55] Nothing more
provoked him than to witness undue rigidity in the enforcement of
subordinate matters, especially when sternness on points of outward
order was associated, as is often the case, with laxity in the
critics. Robinson knew how to estimate “the tithe of mint and anise
and cummin” in their relative value to the weightier matters of the
law. Schism he condemned; division he deplored. From the government
and ceremonies of the English Establishment his conscience compelled
him to dissent, but he was prepared to welcome the disciples of
that and of all other Christian communions to the fellowship of the
Lord’s table. “Our faith,” said he, “is not negative; nor does it
consist in the condemnation of others, and wiping their names out
of the bead-roll of churches, but in the edification of ourselves.
Neither require we of any of ours, in the confession of their faults,
that they renounce or in any one word contest with the Church of
England.”[56]
It is not strange that such a teacher should have won the reverent
regard of his Pilgrim flock. They could not fail to hold him “in
precious estimation, as his worth and wisdom did deserve.” And
“though they esteemed him highly while he lived and labored among
them,” says Bradford, “yet much more after his death,[57] when they
came to feel the want of his help, and saw, by woful experience,
what a treasure they had lost; yea, such a loss as they saw could
not be repaired, for it was as hard for them to find such another
leader and feeder in all respects, as for the Taborites to find
another Ziska.[58] And though they did not, like the Bohemians, call
themselves orphans after his death, yet they had as much cause to
lament their present condition and after-usage.”[59]
Characterized by so much unity, peacefulness, consistency, and
true-hearted love, the Pilgrims could not fail to win the sincere
respect of the Leyden citizens. Though most of them were poor, yet
there were none so poor but if they were known to be of the English
congregation, the Dutch tradesmen would trust them in any reasonable
amount when they lacked money, and this because they had found by
experience how careful they were to keep their word, while they saw
them painful and diligent in their respective callings. The Leyden
merchants even strove to get their custom; and when they required
aid, employed the honest strangers and paid them above others.[60]
The city magistrates testified to the sobriety and peacefulness of
their guests on the eve of their departure from Holland. “These
English,” said they, in reproving the exiled Walloons[61] who were
attached to the French refugee church, “have lived among us now these
twelve years, and yet we never had any suit or action against any one
of them; but your strifes and quarrels are continual.”[62]
The reputation of their pastor for sanctity and learning no doubt
tended to raise the respectability of the English church in the
estimation of the Dutch.
Circumstances afforded him ample scope for the display of his
talents. A heated discussion between the Arminians and the Calvinists
raged in Leyden during his residence in the city, and in that
far-famed controversy the great English divine was finally persuaded
to take part.[63]
In the schools there were daily and hot disputes. Scholars were
divided in opinion. The two professors or divinity readers of the
Leyden university were themselves ranged on opposite sides; one of
them, Episcopius, teaching the Arminian tenets; the other, Polyander,
proclaiming the Calvinistic creed.[64]
Robinson, though he taught thrice a week, besides writing sundry
pamphlets,[65] went daily to listen to the disputations, hearing
first one side, then the other. In this way he became thoroughly
grounded in the controversy, saw the force of the opposing arguments,
and became familiar with the shifts of the inimical disputants. Some
sermons which he delivered in the English church on the contested
issues attracted public attention. Episcopius had just published
certain theses which he had affirmed that he was prepared to maintain
against all opponents. Polyander and the chief preachers of the city
waited upon Robinson, and urged him to pick up the gauntlet. He
was loath, being a stranger; but they beat down the rampart of his
objections, and finally Robinson consented to dispute. Episcopius and
the Pilgrim pastor met, and in this public tilt the English champion
is said to have achieved “a famous victory.”[66]
Ever after this verbal tournament, Robinson was held in the highest
esteem by the learned men of the university, by the Dutch preachers,
and by the republican government of Holland.[67] Indeed, it is said
that nothing but the fear of offending the English king prevented the
bestowal upon him of some mark of national favor.[68]
On their part, the English refugees always treated the reformed
churches of the Continent with honor and fraternal kindness. “We
acknowledge,” remarked Robinson, “before God and man, that we
harmonize so perfectly with the reformed churches of the Netherlands
in matters of religion, as to be ready to subscribe their articles
of faith, and every one of them, as they are set forth in their
confession. We acknowledge these churches as true and genuine; we
hold fellowship with them as far as we can; those among us who
understand Dutch, attend their preaching; we offer the Supper to such
of their members as are known to us and may desire it.”[69]
Yet the Pilgrims did not indorse the system of church government
which received the _imprimatur_ of the Synod of Dort. They
steadfastly maintained that each single church or society of
Christians possessed within itself full ecclesiastical authority
for choosing officers, administering all the ordinances of the
gospel, and settling its discipline; in a word, they held to the
perfect independence of the individual churches, and framed their
ecclesitical polity on the purest democratic model.[70]
“They conceded,” observes Uhden, “that synods and councils might be
useful in healing divisions between churches, and in imparting to
them friendly advice, but not in the exercise of judicial authority
over them, or in the imposition of any canon or any article of faith,
without the free assent of each individual church.”[71]
Sheathed in the panoply of their principles, busied in the
multifarious activities of their daily employments, and solaced
by faith, the Pilgrims “made shift to live in these hard times.”
_Peregrini Deo cura_, runs the old Latin phrase; and this exiled band
of worshippers proved that strangers are indeed peculiar objects of
God’s care.