‘Out of small beginnings great things have arisen,…and as one small
candle may light a thousand. So the light here kindled hath shone on
many.’
GOVERNOR BRADFORD’S JOURNAL.
Once more we must leave our Indian friends, and return to New Plymouth,
and to comparatively civilized life, with all its cares and anxieties,
from so many of which the wild tenants of the woods are free.
Cares and anxieties had, indeed, continued to be the portion of the
Pilgrim Fathers and their families, though mingled with many blessings.
Their numbers had considerably increased during the years that elapsed
since last we took a view of their condition; and their town bad
assumed a much more comfortable and imposing appearance. Many trading
vessels had also visited the rising colony from the mother-country, and
had brought out to the settlers useful supplies of clothing, and other
articles of great value. Among these, none were more acceptable to the
emigrants than the first specimens of horned cattle, consisting of
three cows and a bull, that reached the settlement about the third year
after its establishment. They were hailed with universal joy by all the
inhabitants of New Plymouth, who seemed to feel as if the presence of
such old accustomed objects, brought back to them a something of home
that they had never felt before in the land of their exile. These
precious cattle were a common possession of the whole colony, and were
not divided until the year 1627, when their numbers had greatly
increased, and when a regular division of the houses and lands also
took place.
The trade of the colony had, likewise, been considerably augmented,
both with the Indians and with the English, whose fishing vessels
frequented the coast, and were the means of their carrying on a
constant intercourse and traffic with their friends at home. One of
these vessels brought out to the emigrants the sad intelligence of the
death of their beloved pastor, John Robinson--he who had been honored
and respected by every Puritan community, whether in Europe or America,
and for whose arrival the Pilgrims had looked, with anxious hope, ever
since the day of their sorrowful parting in Holland. 'Surely'--as a
friend of Bradford's wrote to him from Leyden--our pastor would never
have gone from hence, if prayers, tears or means of aid could have
saved him.' The consternation of the settlers was great indeed. Year
after year they had gone on, expecting and waiting for his coming to
resume his official duties among them; and, therefore, they had never
taken any measures to provide themselves with regular pastors, who
might preach the gospel to them three times every Lord's day, according
to their custom in Europe and also administer to them the sacrament,
which, previous to their exile, all the grown-up members of the
community had habitually received every Sunday.
The death of their spiritual leader and counselor had destroyed all
their hopes of being again united to him on earth; and the blow fell
heavily on all, and cast a gloom over the settlement that was not soon
dispersed; but still the Pilgrims did not immediately proceed to choose
another minister. The belief that the divine service could receive no
part of its sanctity from either time, place, or person, but only from
the Holy Spirit of God, which hallows it--was then, as it is now, a
leading feature of the Independent and Presbyterian churches of
America, and, therefore, the Puritans of New Plymouth did not feel it a
necessity--although they deemed it a _privilege_--to enjoy the
spiritual ministrations of ordained clergymen.
Hitherto the venerable Brewster, with the occasional aid of Bradford,
Winslow, and a few others distinguished for piety and eloquence, had
delivered the customary addresses and prayers, and had performed the
rite of baptism. At length, in the year 1628, Allerton, the assistant
of Bradford, after he had been on a mission to England, brought back
with him a young preacher of the name of Rogers, who very shortly gave
such evident signs of insanity, that the settlers were obliged to send
him back to his native land, at a considerable expense and trouble.
In the meantime, the number of settlers on other parts of the coast of
New England had augmented to a great extent; and in Salem alone there
were four ministers who had come out with the English emigrants, of
whom only two could find adequate employment. One of the others,
therefore, named Ralph Smith, who was a man of much piety, and judged
orthodox by the Puritans, went to Plymouth, and offered himself as
pastor to the inhabitants. He was chosen by the people to be their
spiritual leader, and became the first regularly-appointed preacher who
officiated among these, the earliest settlers in New England.
Two or three small vessels were, about this time, built by the men of
Plymouth for their own use, and proved of great service to them, as
their connection with other colonies of Europeans on the American coast
became more extensive and profitable. A friendly intercourse with the
Dutch settlers at the mouth of the great river Hudson had also lately
been established, to the great satisfaction of the Plymouthers, and to
the mutual advantage and comfort of both parties. It was commenced by
the men of Holland soon after their formal settlement near the Hudson,
where they erected a village, and a fortress called Fort Amsterdam.
From thence they addressed a courteous letter to their old connections,
the English exiles from Leyden; and invited them to an occasional
barter of their respective goods and productions, and also offered them
their services in any other way that could be useful.
Governor Bradford--who still by annual election retained his important
office--returned an equally friendly reply to these overtures: and at
the same time tendered his own and his people's grateful
acknowledgements of all the kindness and hospitality that they had
received during their residence in Holland, in years gone by. The
following year they were surprised and gratified by a visit from De
Brazier, the Secretary of the Dutch colony, who anchored at Manomet, a
place twenty miles to the south of New Plymouth, and from thence sent
to request the Pilgrims to send a boat for him. His ship was well
stocked with such wares as were likely to be acceptable to the English;
and, according to the custom of the times, he was attended by several
gaily dressed trumpeters, and a numerous retinue of servants. The new
pinnace, which had recently been built at Manomet, was immediately
dispatched for the welcome visitors, and he was hospitably entertained
by his new friends for three days; after which the Governor, attended
by Rodolph and some others, returned with him to his vessel, to make
their purchases, and to give in exchange for their European goods, such
furs, and skins, and tobacco, as they had been able to collect in their
general storehouse on 'the Burying Hill.'
From this period, an active trade was carried on between the two
settlements, which proved highly advantageous to both--the Dutch
supplying the men of Plymouth with sugar, linen, and other stuffs, in
return for their skins, timber, and tobacco.
During all this time, an almost perfect peace was maintained with the
neighboring Indian tribes; and the friendship that had so early been
established between the English settlers and the Wampanoges became more
confirmed and strengthened. All external matters now wore a far more
prosperous aspect than they had hitherto done; and the Pilgrims felt
that they had both the means and the leisure to add to the comforts of
their social and domestic life. Some years previously, a small portion
of land had been assigned to each family for its own particular use:
but the possession of this land had not been made hereditary; and
although the fact of its being appropriated to one household had
considerably increased the zeal and industry of the cultivators, yet
they still desired that feeling of inalienable property which so
greatly adds to the value of every possession.
To gratify this natural desire, the Governor and his council had deemed
it advisable to depart so far from the terms of the original treaty as
to allot to each colonist an acre of land, as near the town as
possible, in order that, if any danger threatened, they might be able
to unite speedily for the general defense. This arrangement gave much
satisfaction to the settlers; but in the year 1627 they were placed in
a still more comfortable and independent position. They were, by their
charter, lords of all the neighboring land for a circle of more than
one hundred miles. That portion of their territory, therefore, which
was most contiguous to the town, was divided into portions of twenty
acres, five long on the side next the coast, and four broad; and to
each citizen one of these portions was assigned, with the liberty of
purchasing another for his wife, and also one for every child who
resided with him. To every six of these pieces were allotted a cow, two
goats, and a few pigs; so that each settler became possessed of a
little farm of his own, and a small herd of cattle to stock it with:
and peace and plenty at length seemed to smile on the hardy and long-
enduring settlers.
Meanwhile, the colony of Massachusetts, which had been founded in the
year 1624, increased rapidly. It was first planted at Nantasket, a
deserted village of the Indians, at the entrance of the Bay of
Massachusetts, where the Plymouth settlers had previously erected a few
houses, for the convenience of carrying on their trade with the
neighboring tribes. Another settlement had been formed, two years
later, at Naumkeak, a tongue of land of remarkable fertility, where
also a deserted Indian village was found, which formed the commencement
of the town afterwards called Salem; and which had become--at the
period we have now arrived at in our story--a place of some importance.
It was founded by a man of much zeal end enthusiasm, of the name of
Endicott; who was one of the original possessors of the patent granted
to several gentlemen of Dorsetshire, for the land in Massachusetts Bay,
extending from the Merrimak to the Charles River, from north to south;
but stretching to an indefinite distance westward, even over the
unexplored regions between the boisterous Atlantic, and the ‘Silent
Sea,’ as the Pacific has been very aptly and beautifully designated.
Endicott had been invested, by the society to which he belonged in
England, with the government of the whole district of Massachusetts;
and he soon found himself called on to exercise his authority for the
suppression of the disturbances excited by the settlers of Quincy. This
place was inhabited by a set of low and immoral men, one of whom, named
Thomas Morton, had come over in the wild and dissolute train sent out
by Weston several years previously. He was a man of some talent, but of
very contemptible character: and had attached himself to the retinue of
Captain Wollaston and his companions, who first settled at Quincy, and
gave it the name of Mount Wollaston. He afterwards, with his friends,
removed to Virginia, leaving some of his servants and an overseer to
manage the plantation during his absence. But, no sooner was Morton
relieved of the presence of those who had hitherto kept him in some
restraint, than he roused the servants to a complete mutiny, which
ended in their driving the overseer from the plantation, and indulging
in every kind of excess. They even had the boldness and the dishonesty
to sell the land which had been left in their charge by the lawful
possessors, to the Indians; and to obtain fresh estates, which they
claimed as their own. And, having thus established a sort of lawless
independence, they passed their time in drinking and wild revelry. On
the first of May, they erected a may-pole, in old-English fashion; but,
not contented with celebrating that day of spring-time and flowers with
innocent pastimes, they hung the pole with verses of an immoral and
impious character, and, inviting the ignorant heathen to share in their
festivities, they abandoned themselves to drunkenness and profligacy.
The horror and indignation of the severe Puritans of New Plymouth at
this outbreak of licentiousness, was great indeed. In their eyes almost
every amusement was looked upon as a sin; and the most innocent village
dance round a maypole was regarded as nearly allied to the heathenish
games in honor of the Goddess Flora. The conduct, therefore, of the
disorderly settlers of Quincy filled them with shame and grief; and
they felt humbled, as well as indignant, when they reflected on the
discredit which such proceedings must necessarily bring on the
Christian profession, and the British name. Nor was this all: it was
not merely discredit that they had to fear. The insane and profligate
conduct of Morton threatened to bring on them eventually, as well as on
all the emigrants, evils of a more personal kind. For, when Morton and
his wild associates found their means of self-gratification again
running short, they had the folly to part with arms and ammunition to
the Indians, and to teach them how to use them; thus giving them the
power of not only resisting the authority of the English, but also of
effectually attacking them whenever any subjects of dispute should
arise between them and the pale-faced invaders.
Most joyfully the natives took advantage of this impolitic weakness;
and so eagerly did they purchase the coveted firearms of their rivals,
that Morton sent to England for a fresh supply of the dangerous
merchandise. Such conduct was quite sufficient to arouse the fears and
the vigilance of every other colony of New England; and the chief
inhabitants of the various plantations agreed to request the
interference of their brethren of New Plymouth, as being the oldest and
most powerful settlement, in order to bring the offenders to their
senses. Bradford willingly listened to their petition; for he desired
nothing more earnestly than to have an opportunity of openly
manifesting to his countrymen, and to the Indians, how greatly opposed
he and his people were to the proceedings of Morton's gang. He had
also a very sufficient pretext for such interference, as he could bring
forward the positive command of his sovereign, that no arms of any kind
should be given or sold to the natives.
He resolved, however, before he had recourse to harsher measures, to
try and bring Morton and his wild crew to a better mode of life, by
friendly and persuasive messages. But these only excited the contempt
and derision of the ruffian; and the doughty warrior, Miles Standish,
was therefore dispatched, with a band of his veteran followers, to
seize on the desperadoes. They came upon them when they were in the
midst of their drunken revelry, and, after a fierce struggle, succeeded
in making them all prisoners, and conveying them safely to Plymouth.
From thence Morton was sent, by the first opportunity, to England, to
be tried by the High Council, who, however, did not take any active
measures against him or his followers. Many of the latter escaped, and
continued their disorderly life, until they were checked by the
vigorous proceedings of Endicott, who severely reprimanded them, and
cut down the may-pole which had given rise to so much offence, and he
named the hill on which the notorious plantation was situated, 'Mount
Dagon,' in memory of the profane doings of its inhabitants.
The coast of Massachusetts Bay was now studded with plantations, and
with rising towns and villages. The stream of emigration continued to
increase; and the wealth and prosperity of the colonies in general kept
pace with the addition to their numbers, and with their extended trade
with foreign colonies and with the mother-country. Boston had become a
place of some note, and seemed to be regarded as the seat of commerce
for the Massachusetts district, as well as the center of the civil
government. Most of the families of the neighboring plantations,
especially of Charlestown, removed to Boston; and ere long it was
deemed expedient to found a regular church there, and the building of a
house of God was commenced. Winthrop, the governor, also exerted
himself in the erection of a fortress, to repel the dreaded attacks of
the Indians; but he soon perceived that this was a needless precaution,
for all the neighboring tribes readily offered their friendship, and
even their submission; and, as the strength of the colony daily
increased, he found that he had less and less to fear from the Indians.
The Sagamore of Sawgus, in the vicinity of Boston, remained the steady
friend of the English until his death; and Chickatabot, Sachem of
Neponset, one of the neighboring Chiefs of the Massachusetts,
frequently visited the rising town of Boston. On one of these occasions
he excited the mirth of the Governor and his suite, by requesting to be
allowed to purchase his fall-dress coat, to which he had taken a great
fancy.
To this strange and original request, the Governor courteously replied
that it was not the custom of the English Sagamores to dispose of their
raiment in that manner; but he consoled the disappointed Chieftain by
sending for his tailor, and ordering him to measure Chickatabot for a
full suit. This treasure the Sachem carried away with him three days
afterwards, to astonish the eyes of his subjects in his native wilds;
and his loyalty towards the English was greatly strengthened by so
handsome and judicious a present.
Cundincus, also, the Chief of the powerful and much dreaded
Narragansetts, sent his son with a friendly greeting to the new
settlers of Boston; and, in the following year, his nephew and
co-ruler, Miantonomo, came on a visit to the Governor. He was for some
days an inmate of Winthrop's house; and it is recorded that he not only
conducted himself with the greatest decorum, but that be also sat
patiently to listen to a sermon of an hour and a half's duration, of
which, of course, he scarcely comprehended one word.
Governor Winthrop followed the good example that had already been set
by both Carver and Bradford at New Plymouth, in regard to all dealings
with the natives. He always maintained their rights with the most
strict and impartial justice; and if any Englishman committed an injury
against the property of an Indian, he compelled him to replace it--in
some cases even to twice the value of the article in question.
The new settlers had always been on very friendly terms with the elder
colony of Plymouth; and visits were frequently exchanged between the
Governors and others of the inhabitants, which, though performed with
much difficulty and even danger, were a source of mutual pleasure to
the two bands of British emigrants. If the men of Plymouth regarded
with some feeling of jealous anxiety the growing power and greatness of
their rival, it was but natural. Nevertheless, no differences of any
importance arose between the colonies on the subject of civil
superiority. It was on spiritual matters that they sometimes disagreed;
and on these points the Plymouthers watched the newcomers with
suspicious sensitiveness, and resolved to maintain their dearly-
purchased based rights to religious freedom, against any pretensions
that might be made by the church of Boston.
This latter community was frequently subject to divisions and disputes,
on those points of faith and discipline that each party regarded as
all-important, but on the carrying out of which they could not agree;
and a certain spirit of intolerance had already begun to show itself
among them, which, in later times, ripened into actual cruelty and
persecution.
The first instance of any display of this unchristian spirit with which
our narrative is concerned, was the treatment of a young clergyman,
named Roger Williams, who came over to New England several years after
the emigration of the Pilgrim Fathers, when the renewed oppression of
the Puritan ministers, by the English bishops, drove many of their
number to seek a refuge in America. In the same year also arrived John
Elliott, a man whose name is deservedly remembered and respected in New
England, as standing conspicuous for zeal and virtue. So great and so
successful were his labors among the native heathen, and so eminent
were his piety and his self-denying charity, that he has been well
named the _'Prince of Missionaries'_ and 'the Great Apostle of the
Indians.'
The arrival of these holy and zealous--though somewhat eccentric--men,
and of several others equally resolved to maintain the freedom of their
religious views and practices, tended greatly to strengthen and
establish the emigrants; and also added considerably to their comfort,
as every settlement became provided with regular and authorized
ministers of the gospel, and could enjoy all those religious privileges
from which they had been so long debarred. But it must also be
confessed that it became the source of much dissension and party
feeling, and led to that display of bigotry and intolerance that
eventually disgraced the Christian profession of the men of
Massachusetts.[*]
[Footnote: The cruel fate of Mary Dyer, the Quaker, who was condemned
to death by Governor Endicott, at Boston, is a lamentable instance of
the narrow-minded and cruel policy of the rulers of that community.
She was banished from the state, but 'felt a call' to return and rebuke
the austerity of the men of Boston, and reprove them for their
spiritual pride. She was accompanied by two friends, William Robinson
and Marmaduke Stevenson, and all three were seized, imprisoned, and,
after a summary trial, were sent to the gallows. The two men were
executed; but at the moment when Mary Dyer was standing, calm and
resigned, with the rope around her neck, expecting to be launched into
eternity, a reprieve arrived, and the victim was released. But it was
only for a little time. She was again banished; and again returned, as
if to seek her fate. A second trial took place, and she was again
condemned. Her husband, who knew not of her return to Boston until it
was too late, appeared before the magistrates, and pleaded with all the
eloquence of affection and anguish. But he wept and prayed in vain. His
young and lovely wife was led to the scaffold, where she met her fate
with a pious and even cheerful resignation; but her blood has left a
dark stain on the history of the Church of Boston, that no time will
ever efface. This dreadful event occurred about forty years after that
period of which we are now treating.]
Roger Williams was a man comparatively unknown in his own country, but
he was destined to exercise considerable influence in the land of his
adoption, by his peculiar views of religious freedom which went far
beyond those of the generality of his fellow Puritans. He desired to
extend to others that liberty of conscience which he claimed as his own
privilege, and for the attainment of which he had become a wanderer and
an exile. But he soon found that many of his countrymen had forgotten
in America the principles of spiritual freedom, for which they had so
nobly contended in England, and were ready to employ against those who
differed from them, the same 'carnal weapons' that had already driven
them from their mother-country. His sufferings were indeed light, in
comparison of those which were afterwards inflicted on the miserable
Quakers by the government of Massachusetts; but still they were hard
for flesh and blood to bear, and galling to a free spirit to receive
from those who boasted of their own love of freedom.
Roger Williams was not more than thirty-two years of age when he
arrived in New England. He had boldly separated himself from all
communion with the high church of his native country; and, before he
would attach himself to the Church of Boston, he demanded from its
members a similar declaration of independence. The fathers of the
colony were, however, by no means prepared to take so decided a step,
which would lay them open to the attacks of the English hierarchy; and
although a few years afterwards, when they could do it with less risk
of punishment, they abjured all connection with the Church of England,
yet they dared not at present give any countenance to such individual
boldness as that which Williams had manifested. His uncompromising
principles were, however, in unison with those of the Church of Salem;
and he was invited by that community to be their teacher, as an
assistant to their pastor, Skelton, whose health was then declining.
The rulers of Boston were extremely indignant at this act of
independence on the part of the Salemers; and they addressed to them a
remonstrance, desiring them to take no such steps without the
concurrence of the government of the state of Massachusetts. But the
men of Salem did not withdraw their invitation, which was accepted by
Roger Williams; and in a short time his piety, his eloquence, and the
kind courtesy of his manners, gained for him the esteem and affection
of the whole community.
He was not, however, permitted to remain in peace in his new home. The
suspicion and ill-will of the Boston government followed him to Salem,
and so greatly embittered his life, and interrupted his labors, that he
found it expedient to withdraw to Plymouth, where he found employment
as assistant to the regular pastor, Ralph Smith. His preaching caused
great excitement in New Plymouth, from the fervor of his eloquence, and
the freedom of his opinions, which aroused the sympathy of many of the
Pilgrim Fathers. Governor Bradford was much interested by the young
and enthusiastic minister; and he described him in his journal as 'a
man full of the fear of God, and of zeal, but very unsettled in
judgement.' Certainly, his opinions were peculiar, and his spirit bold
and defying, to a degree that rather shocked and astonished the sober,
severe, and exclusive men of Plymouth; but his sincere piety caused him
to be respected, even by those who shrank from going such lengths as he
did; and his engaging manners won the affection of all who were
admitted to his intimacy.
One cause of the anger of the rulers of Boston against this energetic
young man was an essay which he wrote and addressed to the Governor of
Plymouth, in which he stated his conviction that 'the King of England
had no right whatever to give away these lands on which they had
settled; but that they belonged exclusively to the natives, and must be
bought in by auction from them.' No one who entertains a sense of
justice will now be disposed to object to this opinion; but it gave
great offence to the government of Boston, and he was summoned before
the general court, to answer to Governor Winthrop for having
promulgated such notions. He did not, however, attempt to defend them,
but good-humoredly declared that they were privately addressed to
Bradford, who, with tin chief men of Plymouth, agreed with him in all
the material points of his essay, and he offend to burn it if it had
given offence at Boston. The subject was then dropped, and Williams
returned to Plymouth, where he continued to reside for a considerable
time.
During that period, he not only gained many friends among the
inhabitants, but he also, by a constant intercourse with the Wampanoges
and other neighboring tribes, obtained a considerable knowledge of
their language and manners, and secured their veneration and love.
This, as we shall have occasion to observe, proved afterwards of the
greatest advantage to him.
But his own restless spirit was not satisfied with quietly discharging
the duties of his office, and enjoying the society of his own
countrymen and their Indian allies. Again he drew upon himself the
wrath of the Boston Church, by openly stating his conviction that no
civil government had a right to punish any individual for a breach of
the Sabbath, or for any offence against either of the four
commandments, or the first table. He maintained that these points
should be left to the conscience alone; or, in the case of those who
had agreed to a church covenant, to the authorities of the church. The
civil magistrates he considered as only empowered to punish such
violations of the law as interfered with the public peace. This
unheard-of heresy against the principles by which the Bostoners were
governed, was received with amazement and indignation: and, although
they could not take any immediate measures to testify their
displeasure, and to punish the offender, yet he thenceforth became the
object of hatred and suspicion to the rulers, and they only waited for
a fitting opportunity of openly manifesting it.
Williams was aware of the feeling entertained towards him by the
government of Massachusetts, but he was not thereby deterred from
expressing his opinions in New Plymouth; and so great was his
attachment to the people of Salem, who had first afforded him a home,
that he would again have ventured thither, had he not been detained by
his new friends. They were both numerous and sincere: and, among them,
none were more attached to him than the Maitland family, who agreed
with him in most of his religious and political opinions, and valued
his society on account of his unaffected piety, and the various powers
and accomplishments of his mind. Possibly, it was the attraction that
Roger Williams found in this family that caused him so long to turn a
deaf ear to the repeated solicitations of his old friends at Salem,
that he would again take up his abode among them. Certainly, it was not
fear of the rulers of Boston that kept his undaunted spirit in a
district over which they had no authority; neither was it altogether
the harmony that subsisted between his views and those of the
hospitable Plymouthers. On many points they agreed, but not on all;
and those who differed from him feared that his continued residence
among them might excite a party spirit, and mar that peace which had
hitherto reigned in their community.
Still Roger Williams did continue to dwell at New Plymouth; and still
his visits to the house of Maitland became more and more frequent.[*]
[Footnote: A few liberties are taken with the private life of this
interesting character, in order to connect him more closely with the
events of the narrative. But all the incidents which can be regarded as
important are strictly historical, although the date and order of them
may be slightly altered.]