The Pilgrims (1955)

In England near the 1600s, there was a tiny band of people who called themselves separatists. They wished only to worship in their own way. Open up IN THE NAME OF THE KING! OPEN YOU HERETICS! OPEN UP YOU SILENCE! SILENCE, I SAY! MASTER BREWSTER, be warned that the king of England knows of your sins. And we have his, I warrant. Enough! You shall disperse to your homes. You shall meet no more either secretly or in public to worship in this heretical way. So, you object to your so-called priest wearing clerical garb. No. You object to kneeling when receiving the holy sacrament. You object to idolatrous gear and trappings. YOU OBJECT AND OBJECT, CAPTAIN. You well know that we desire above all to have the word of God freely preached. That you shall not have, Master Brewster. Mark me well. The King of England in matters of state, you shall conform to the King's religion. If you do not, he shall harry you out of the land. But whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also. William? Yes. Are you ready, Master Brewster? I We're ready. Make haste. The King's guards will soon be on their rounds. We'll leave this burning as though we were still here. As though we did not have to leave our homes, to live as strangers in a strange land. Nay, to live free in a free land. Live? But how? As we lived here, as tradespeople, artisans, farmers. As the Lord wills, so shall we live. Come. It is time. And so began our pilgrimage In the darkness of night, like thieves, some 200 of us took leave of our homeland and pursued freedom elsewhere, making our way to the only friendly land we knew, the low country behind the dikes, Holland. The Dutch were a goodly people and kind to us. Yet we were strangers among them and our life was not easy. For 12 years we suffered all willingly. But in the end, it was the suffering of our dearest children which so moved our hearts. So oppressed were they by the heavy labors which our poor conditions laid upon them. And more than this, we had fear they were becoming as strangers unto us, their loving parents. What we might do, we did not know. But do something we must. For how shall we sing the Lord's song in a strange land? It's quite possible, Master Brewster. It's quite possible the New World may well be the place for your people. And so, two of our elders journeyed to London, there to consult with a certain Mr. Weston. You understand, gentlemen, that our gracious king has granted our company a patent to settle the Virginia wilderness. But we are merchants. Our interest in this New World is to make a profit for our stockholders. Have your people any resources? We are very poor in worldly goods, Master Weston. Mhm. Yes, I see. Well, suppose we did this. Suppose a group of merchants, including myself, subscribers have a money say 6 or 7,000 lbs, form a joint stock company between merchants and colonists to settle uh here, providing that each share in the company be of 10 lbs value, the agreement to run Master Weston, if you would, a little slower, please. Oh, yes, of course. Well, simply put, it comes to this. We finance your pilgrimage. You work for us, and we take the profit of your labors. Trade, fishing, farming, whatever you find that we apply yourselves to for um 7 years. 7 years? Your terms are hard, Master Weston. 7 years? What are they, Master Brewster? Does not the Bible tell us that Jacob labored twice 7 years for the hand of Rachel? We would, of course, have to discuss this with our people. Oh, naturally, and I with mine. Mind you, I'm not at all sure we can do this. It's a risk. We shall be risking a great deal of money. Very true, Master Weston. And we should be risking our lives. And the lives of our children. Master Weston's conditions were hard, but at length an agreement was reached. And our people left Holland forever and embarked for Southampton, England. There you are. Thank you very much. Brewster? I am the Reverend Brewster. Standish. Captain Miles Standish. Master Bradford. Master Carver. I am at your service, gentlemen. Though I doubt what service I can be to you. We have our doubts as to that, too, Captain Standish. As well you may. Tinkers, weavers, preachers, carpenters going to a desolate wilderness to a land of wild beasts and wilder savages. You know where you're leading yourselves? We know only where the Lord is leading us, Captain Standish. And that is sufficient. I know nothing of that. I know only that tinkers and weavers know little of wilderness or danger or starvation. Or of fighting. Can any of you fire a musket? Can any of your kind fire a soul, William? Captain Standish, you are a soldier. We, as you say, are tinkers, weavers, and preachers. You have been companion to wilderness and danger. We have not. We need your help. I'm not of your faith. There will be many strangers with us on this pilgrimage. Strangers? There are only 35 of us from Leiden. To make up a sufficient number, we have had to recruit others from London. Yes, but why strangers? We call all men strangers who are not of our religion. Your group has the patent from the Virginia Company? We have. And thus the authority to command. I am. May not these strangers, as you call them, stir up trouble in this regard? We must put our trust in God. Master Brewster, I'll go with you if you'll still have me. August the 5th, departed Southampton in company with the Speedwell, an ill-looking vessel at best. Speedwell leaking, put back to Delfshaven for repairs. August the 17th, set sail a second time. The Speedwell is unseaworthy, put back to Plymouth. September the 6th, AD 1620, the Mayflower sails alone. They had no friends to welcome them, no inns to entertain or refresh their weather-beaten bodies, no houses or much less towns to repair to, to seek for succor. As for the season, it was winter, and they that know the winters of the country know them to be sharp and violent. Besides, what could they see but a hideous and desolate wilderness full of wild beasts and wild men? And what multitudes there might be of them, they knew not. As for themselves, they numbered 102 souls, but only 35 true pilgrims. The rest, strangers to their faith. And as Captain Standish had foreseen, this was to threaten the very purpose of the pilgrimage. Enter. Master Carver, these men have a grievance. Yes, what is it? Master Carver, when we came this voyage, we understood that your group had a patent from the Virginia Company to settle in Virginia. So we have. Then command us now, Master Carver. What is your meaning, pray? Our meaning is simply this. This ship was blown off course. That land out there is not Virginia, but New England. And? And so, your patent is worthless. You've no power to command. We have the power to command this pilgrimage given us by God. And ye be strangers. Command us, Master Carver. What say you, Captain Standish? I say this. Our landfall is some 200 mi north of the limit of your patent. Of that, there can be no doubt. As for the other matter, these men are strangers to your religion, as am I. But I would remind you of this. In the land from which you fled, you yourselves were considered strangers. You were called heretics, disbelievers, and worse. Now we are lying off an unknown land, a wilderness. And unless we wish to leave our bones rotting on this shore before the winter is over, I say we better dwell together in unity. We whose names are underwritten, the loyal subjects of our dread sovereign lord, King James I, having undertaken a voyage to plant a colony in the New World, do solemnly combine ourselves together into a civil body politic for our better ordering and preservation. And by virtue thereof, to enact such just and equal laws as shall be thought most meet and convenient for the general good of the colony. Is this agreed by all present? I agree. I agree. I agree. What can I say of the painful labors of those first terrible months to gain a foothold, however precarious, in that treacherous land. To find a site for our colony, to fashion simple, rude shelters, and how to describe that cruel first winter, when we were plunged into that wilderness, all unknowing and ignorant. Of savages, we saw few. And except for the first skirmish, in which our Captain Standish acquitted himself bravely, we suffered not from that source. But from another source, we suffered most grievously. William? William? Where are you? Here, at your side, my dear. William, we should not have come. We should not have come. Hush, my dear. Hush. We should not have left England so many years ago. So many. It was the Lord's will. So many dead. Nearly half. It is the Lord's punishment. We should never have left England. It is the fever. I fear so. And the others? Two more dead. And one dying. My own wife. Rose. Your wife. Out of the depths have I cried unto thee, O Lord. Lord, hear my voice. Does he hear, Standish? Does he? Must a stranger chide a true believer for lack of faith? Do we bury our dead tonight? Yes. It's a dark night. We'll not be seen. Come. And during that first terrible winter, we buried more than half our number, leveling the graves to conceal our losses from the Indians, and in the spring, sowing them with grain. But the winter passed, and spring came, and life embraced us back. And we few, we very few who were spared, found help from an unexpected quarter. Help from those very savages we had so feared. From Massasoit and the ever faithful Squanto. From them we learned how to sow our crops, how to work long hours, where to fish for herring and alewives. We worked in common, men and women, pilgrim and stranger, white man and Indian. And at last, the harvest time came. And with it, our Thanksgiving. For when we left our homes and our dear, dear friends in England, we embarked upon an uncertain pilgrimage. We thought to find a hostile country and hardships and heartbreak, and these we found. We thought to find no friends here to aid us, but in this we were wrong. We did find friends here. We did not think to lose half our number, but they lie now in this earth, in this new-found land. But, stranger and true believer alike, they lie now as planted seed, a precious seed from which will grow this colony we call New Plymouth. For as one small candle may light a thousand, so the light here kindled shall shine unto many, yea, in some sort, to a whole nation. By the waters of Babylon, we sat down and wept when we remembered thee, O Zion. We sat down and wept as for our hearts we hanged them up upon the trees that in when we remembered thee, O Zion. We sat down and Ooh. Ooh. Ooh. Ooh. Ooh. Ooh. Ooh. Ooh. Ooh.