The Sin and Danger of Self-Love: Described by a Sermon Preached At Plymouth, in New-England, 1621

In Short

This text is a foundational document of early American history, transcribed from a sermon delivered to the struggling Plymouth colonists in 1621. Its author, a central figure in the planning of the Mayflower voyage, argues that the survival of their fledgling society depends entirely on the rejection of "self-love" in favor of communal sacrifice. By blending theological rigor with intensely practical advice on labor and temperament, the work remains a vital, unvarnished look at the social contract required to sustain a community through extreme adversity.

The Story

The narrative arc of this discourse follows the progression from a diagnosis of human frailty to an urgent call for collective action. The author begins by addressing his "loving friends" and fellow adventurers, setting the scene in a "heathen country" where the settlers live in a fragile, isolated state. He establishes his premise: self-love is not merely a personal vice but a structural threat to the existence of any colony or church. He systematically dismantles the common justifications for prioritizing one’s own wealth, ease, or will, characterizing such behaviors as the "bane of all societies."

As the sermon unfolds, the author moves from abstract doctrine to the immediate, gritty reality of the Plymouth plantation. He observes that while his people have endured a "hard brunt," the temptation to "shift for themselves" remains constant. He warns against the "prodigal person" who seeks a private portion of land or goods, arguing that such individualism leads inevitably to social decay. He paints a stark picture of what happens when members of a colony cease to look after one another: the ambitious thrive at the expense of the weak, and the resulting bitterness turns a settlement into a "hell."

The argument reaches its crescendo in the practical application of his doctrine. He defines the "wealth" of others—not just money, but all manner of benefits and comforts—as something every colonist must actively seek out. He demands that the settlers view their neighbor’s hunger as their own and their neighbor’s sickness as a shared burden. He posits that the survival of the group depends on a "sweet sympathy" that refuses to let any member fall into beggary or despair.

In the final movement, the author addresses the inevitable friction of communal life. He acknowledges the complaints of the diligent against the slothful but insists that the solution is not to "part" or withdraw into private enclaves. Instead, he urges the community to "cleave together" by the bonds of mutual duty. He concludes by looking forward to the inevitable arrival of death, counseling his listeners to ensure that when that moment comes, they are found in a state of brotherly love rather than "murmurings, discontent and jars." By rooting their identity in this unity, he promises they will serve as a "notable precedent" to the surrounding indigenous people and an encouragement to those left behind in England. The work ends with a fervent hope that this peaceable example will be the vehicle through which they are eventually "translated from this wandering wilderness unto that joyful and heavenly Canaan."

How It Unfolds

The diagnosis of the disease The author identifies self-love as the root cause of all societal dysfunction, comparing it to a physical illness that requires immediate, vigilant treatment. He asserts that even lawful pursuits—like eating, feasting, or seeking prosperity—become sinful when they are undertaken without regard for the needs of one's neighbors.

The anatomy of selfishness He breaks down the ways men manifest this vice, specifically targeting covetousness, the pursuit of ease, the obsession with "belly-cheer," the vanity of seeking praise, and the stubborn insistence on having one's own way. He contrasts these selfish behaviors with the humble, self-denying conduct of biblical figures like Nehemiah and the Apostle Paul.

The call to collective care Transitioning to an exhortation, the author commands the settlers to turn their efforts toward the "wealth" and benefit of others. He argues that this is not a suggestion but an absolute duty, essential for preventing the degradation of his fellow colonists into "impudent cravers" or "brazen-faced" beggars.

A prescription for survival In the final section, he provides a specific framework for life in the colony, urging the people to reject the desire for private, individual ownership in favor of a shared, "general" existence. He closes by emphasizing that their unity is their strongest defense against both the physical hardships of the wilderness and the spiritual danger of a "reprobate mind."

The People

Robert Cushman, the author, acts as both a spiritual guide and a pragmatic administrator. He is a man of deep conviction who views the colony not as a collection of individuals, but as a single, living body that must breathe and eat as one or else perish.

Opposing his ideal are the "covetous worldlings" and "idle drones" he describes—those who prioritize their own ease or private gain. He is particularly stern with the "prodigal person" who demands a personal share of the colony’s resources, seeing this as the primary wedge that will split the group apart.

Standing as the ideal to which the settlers must aspire is the figure of the "honest thrifty Christian," modeled after figures like Nehemiah. This individual is characterized by modesty, a lack of interest in personal praise, and a willingness to "part stakes"—literally sharing food and clothing with those who have less. Cushman does not leave these as abstract archetypes; he expects the living, breathing men and women of Plymouth to transform themselves into this version of the neighbor, shifting their focus from what they are owed to what they owe to their brother.

In Its Own Voice

"The bane of all these mischiefs which arise among you is, that men are too cleaving to themselves and their own matters, and disregard and contemn all others."

Cushman summarizes his central thesis regarding why social harmony is so difficult to maintain.

"He is my brother, my associate; we ventured our lives together here, and had a hard brunt of it and we are in league together."

The author makes the case for communal responsibility by reminding the settlers of the shared trauma they have already survived.

"Let his joy be thy joy, and his sorrow thy sorrow: Let his sickness be thy sickness: his hunger thy hunger: his poverty thy poverty."

This passage serves as the author's final, forceful instruction on how to maintain the unity of the body politic.

What It's Really About

At its core, this book is an inquiry into the nature of the social contract. It asks: what is the minimum moral requirement for a group of people to survive in a hostile, resource-scarce environment? The author argues that absolute, radical selflessness is not just a religious ideal, but a survival mechanism. He grapples with the tension between individual ambition and the common good, ultimately concluding that "particularizing"—the drive to possess and secure one’s own—is the enemy of a functioning community. It is a work about the necessity of choosing the group’s endurance over the individual’s desire for autonomy, asserting that the survival of the soul and the survival of the state are fundamentally linked.

Why Read It Today

Readers interested in the origins of American communal life will find this book remarkably direct. It is not a romanticized history; it is a transcript of a man speaking to his peers about their own failures, hunger, and petty squabbles. The language is the early modern English of 1621—often challenging in its syntax and theological density—but the underlying tone is one of urgent, bracing humanity.

Those who enjoy historical primary sources will appreciate the lack of pretense. There is no attempt to frame the Mayflower arrival as a glorious event; rather, it is presented as a high-stakes, exhausting, and often miserable enterprise. You will encounter the period’s specific worldview, including its rigid hierarchy and its blunt, sometimes harsh, judgments on human behavior. However, the themes of "keeping together" and the dangers of social fragmentation feel surprisingly relevant to any age. It is a demanding read, but one that rewards the patient reader with a visceral sense of the weight carried by the early settlers—a weight that, according to the author, could only be borne if every man stopped seeking his own and started seeking the wealth of his neighbor.