'She was a woman of a steadfast mind,
Tender and deep in her excess of love.'
The life of peace and tranquillity which Roger and his young bride
enjoyed in their new home, was not long permitted to be their happy
lot. The apprehensions that had been felt by Edith's anxious parents,
were but too soon realized; and, notwithstanding all the good advice
that he received at Plymouth, and all his own sincere resolutions to
avoid, if possible, all future disputes with the elders or the Boston
Church, Roger Williams again became the object of their persecuting
intolerance.
The fact of his being again invited to Salem to assist the pastor, was
regarded as extremely offensive to the government of Boston: but when
Shelton died very shortly after Roger's arrival, and he was elected to
be the regular minister of the congregation, it was looked upon as a
sinful defiance of lawful authority, and one which demanded exemplary
punishment. An opportunity for this exercise of power soon occurred.
The township of Salem lain claim to a certain disputed piece of land,
and addressed a petition to the government of Massachusetts, in which
they demanded to be put in possession of it. But in consequence of the
recent act of the community with regard to Roger Williams's election,
the claim was unjustly rejected. The Salemers then, by the advice of
their pastor, wrote to all the other churches in the Bay, and requested
them to unite in a remonstrance to the government. This act was in
perfect accordance with the spirit of the puritanical principles, which
distinctly separated the church from the state; and it ought not,
therefore, to have given offence to any one. But their practice
differed greatly from their theory; and the feeling against Williams
was so strong that all the churches--the elders of which were opposed
to his opinions--now took part with the government of Boston against
him.
This treatment so irritated the warm feelings of Williams, and so
keenly wounded his sense of justice and love of liberty, that he
required the Church of Salem to renounce all connection with the other
congregations; and even went so far as to refuse all intercourse with
his own church until this separation was agreed to. But strongly as the
Salemers were attached to their pastor, they could not consent to so
decisive a measure as he demanded; and, being vexed and dispirited by
the general disapprobation which their conduct had excited in the rest
of the colony, the greatest part of the congregation fell away from
him.
This desertion grieved the heart of the zealous minister but it did not
discourage him, or subdue his determined spirit. He began to hold
spiritual meetings at his own house, which were attended by those
members of the church who fully concurred in his views, and who
considered that he had been treated with injustice. This proceeding
naturally aroused a strong party spirit in the town, and even
threatened to produce a permanent division in the church, as the
followers of Williams held themselves entirely aloof from the rest of
the congregation.
Deeply did Edith lament this unhappy state of affairs. Her devotion to
her noble-minded husband, and the natural tendency of her own mind, led
her to sympathize entirely in his opinions and feelings; and her strong
sense of right and wrong caused her to condemn the injustice of the
government, and the weak, truckling spirit of the sister-churches. But
her judgement was more calm and dispassionate than that of Roger, and
her temper far less excitable. She therefore saw the impropriety, as
well as the danger, of, causing a schism in the church; and she used
all her powerful influence to induce her husband to give up these
irregular assemblies; and, without compromising his own opinions, to
endeavor to ward off the enmity of the men of Boston.
She earnestly besought him again to leave the Congregation of Salem--
the greater portion of which had already deserted him and his cause--
and to return to Plymouth, where a safe and a happy home might yet be
afforded to them, and where no persecution for conscience' sake, need
be feared. But all her arguments and her persuasions were alike
ineffectual. On this one point she found her Roger firm and
inflexible--for on this point he felt that his honor and his conscience
were both concerned; and, even for Edith's sake; he could not act
contrary to their dictates. He knew that danger hung over his head;
and, though he would not shrink from it himself, he besought her to
seek a temporary refuge with her parents, and remain at Plymouth until
the threatened storm had blown over. But it was now Edith’s turn to
show herself firm and decided; and so clearly did Roger perceive that
separation would be to her a far greater trial than any other that
could befall her in his company, that he forbore to urge a measure that
it wrung his own heart to propose.
At length the boding storm began to break over his head. For all his
supposed offences he was again summoned before the General Assembly at
Boston; and, in fear and anxiety, Edith saw him depart. She knew full
well that he would never renounce, or even soften down, his opinions,
through any fear of man; and she did not, for a moment, desire that he
should thus lower himself in her estimation and his own. But she also
knew the bitterness of the enmity felt towards him by the authorities
at Boston, and she could not repress her apprehensions of its
consequences.
As she anticipated, Roger refused to acknowledge himself guilty of an
offence against the church or state; nor would he even yield one point
of his religious or political opinions, during a long disputation with
the celebrated pastor Hooker. He was, therefore, declared contumacious
by the government: and, with the assent of all the assembled clergy,
except his friend Elliot, he was banished from the territory of
Massachusetts.
Six weeks were allowed him by the General Assembly to make his
preparations, and remove beyond the boundary of their dominions: but as
this term would have brought the time of his banishment to the winter
season, when such a journey would have been impracticable, he was
afterwards permitted to remain at Salem until the spring.
With great apparent unconcern he returned to his home, where his fond
and admiring wife welcomed him with joy, and strengthened his spirit by
the cheerful manner in which she received the news of their sentence of
banishment. She had felt an undefined dread of something much more hard
to bear--of something which might possibly separate her husband from
her: but banishment _with him_ was only a change of home, and, let
their lot be cast where it might, she could be happy. Indeed, she
entertained a hope that. Roger would consent to remove to Plymouth, and
take up his abode there, which would have, given her extreme
satisfaction. But she soon found that this hope could not be
accomplished; for her enthusiastic husband had formed a design of
founding a church of his own, and of being entirely independent of all
government in spiritual matters. In order to carry out this purpose, he
daringly continued to hold the obnoxious assemblies in his own house,
and to instill his opinions into the minds of the many young and
zealous friends who gathered around him. These meetings were even more
numerously attended after his return from Boston than they were before
he was summoned to the bar of the General Assembly; for persecution and
injustice naturally recoil on the perpetrators of it, and the victim of
such harsh measures is sure to gain friends and supporters among the
warm-hearted and the generous.
A report of these proceedings was carried to Boston, and also a rumor
of Williams's supposed plan for founding an independent church and
settlement in Narragansett Bay. It was even declared that some of his
friends had already gone off to the south, and were seeking, a fitting
spot on which to commence building.
This information roused the fears, as well as the wrath, of the
government. The eloquence and abilities of Williams were well known to
the rulers, and they dreaded the influence that he would inevitably
exercise over the neighboring churches, if he established himself and
his followers in a district so contiguous to their own. They,
therefore, resolved to employ still more harsh and stringent measures
than had yet been attempted, in order to put a stop to his disorderly
proceedings, and prevent the further dissemination of his opinions. He
was, accordingly, once more summoned to the chief town; and, had he
obeyed the summons, he was to have been forcibly conveyed on board a
vessel then in the harbor, and sent off to England as a rebel and
schismatic, unworthy to dwell in the new settlement.
When the summons arrived at Salem, Roger was ill, having caught a fever
from some members of his flock on whom he had been attending; and he
therefore replied, with truth, that it would endanger his life to
attempt the journey to Boston. His serious indisposition had occasioned
to Edith much anxiety and alarm; but now she was made to feel how often
those events which we regard as misfortunes are really 'blessings in
disguise'; and how frequently our merciful and all-seeing Father
renders them the means of our preservation from far greater evils. It
would be well if the conviction of this blessed truth were constantly
present to our minds. How many anxious cares would it disperse or
soothe, and how many thanksgivings would it call forth.
Edith felt its truth, and its consolation, as she sat by the side of
her husband's couch, and wrote, from his dictation, the reply that
saved him from immediate compliance with the dreaded summons. Nothing
would have induced Roger to plead illness as an excuse for disobedience
unless it had actually existed: and his fearless spirit would probably
have led him into the snare that was laid for him. Edith knew this
secret danger; for Governor Winthrop, who had seen and admired her on
one of his visits to Plymouth, and who now kindly sympathized in her
feelings, had sent her a private note by the messenger, in which he
warned her of the danger that waited Williams at Boston, and desired
her, by some means, to prevent his appearing before the General
Assembly. Winthrop highly disapproved of the young minister's bold and
independent conduct; but he shrunk from so cruel an act as was resolved
on by his council. He did not, however, choose to declare his more
lenient judgement; and he adopted the plan of informing Roger's wife of
the fate that was designed for him, and leaving it to her judgement and
affection to take the proper measures to avert it.
It was not until after the departure of the messenger, that Edith told
her husband of Winthrop's kind interference, and showed him his note.
The indignation of Williams at such a flagrant disregard of all common
justice was so great, that Edith feared it would bring on an accession
of the fever. It, however, acted in a perfectly contrary manner. He
slept well that night, and the following morning declared his intention
of setting off immediately to Boston, and there accusing the General
Assembly of their unlawful intention, and daring them to put it into
execution.
'I will upbraid them with their injustice, and charge them with their
purposed crime!' he exclaimed; and his fine eyes flashed with
excitement, that almost made Edith fear that the fever had affected his
mind. 'I will appeal to God and man against their lawless cruelty,' he
continued; 'and rouse the whole colony to defend my right to liberty of
thought and action.'
Oh, Roger!' cried his wife--and she caught his burning hand, and
pressed it to her throbbing heart--'cease such wild and desperate
words! Would you drive me to distraction, by thus throwing yourself
into the power of your bitter and relentless enemies? Who in Boston
would stand up to defend your cause? Who could deliver you from the
evil intentions of these cruel men? It is true that the Governor has
shown himself your friend--I should rather say, my friend--by giving me
this secret information; but he would not openly espouse your cause, or
resist the will of the Assembly. Why, then, should you spurn from you
the means of safety that have been so mercifully afforded, and tempt
Providence to leave you to your fate'?
'Edith,' he replied--and the bright flush faded from his cheek, and the
fire in his eye died away, and he sank again upon his couch--'Edith,
you have subdued my spirit; or perhaps,' he added, smiling up in her
face, 'weakness has subdued it. I feel that I have no strength to
accomplish what I desire, and to show my persecutors that liberty of
thought and feeling is my birthright, and that I will never relinquish
the privilege. I must, therefore, submit to the will of One who is
wiser and mightier than I am; and believe me, my Edith,' he continued--
as he saw the tears falling from her gentle eyes--'believe me, I do to
with perfect contentment now. The passion--the sinful passion--that
stirred me so mightily just now, is gone; and I feel the goodness of my
God in holding me back from the rash act I contemplated, and from
rushing upon dangers that I might indeed defy, but could not hope to
conquer. I will be calm, my love; and you shall devise some means for
my escape. I feel assured that still more violent measures will be
adopted by the Assembly to get me into their power; and now that I can
quietly reflect on the consequences of such an event, I am aware that
they would, probably, be our violent and indefinite separation. I could
not bear that, Edith; though I believe that I could bear much to
vindicate my honor.'
How changed was Roger's countenance now! All passion--all excitement--
was gone; and the natural sweetness of his disposition, and tenderness
of his heart, resumed their interrupted influence over his whole manner
and expression. Edith thought she had never either admired or loved him
so much as at this moment, when he had conquered his impetuous
feelings, and yielded his fiery impulse to show a bold resentment of
injury, to her influence and persuasions.
‘Heaven bless you, my own Roger!' she exclaimed, 'and reward your
better resolution, by granting us many future years of united
happiness. But now we must think of the present, and provide for its
emergencies. I see clearly that there is now no safety for you in
Salem, and that a speedy flight can alone ensure your liberty. You have
made a great sacrifice for my sake; and I will also make one for yours.
I will not even ask to fly with you, for I could only be an encumbrance
to you at this inclement season of the year, and my presence here may
be of use to you. My heart rebels while I say it, Roger; but you must
go alone, and use every exertion to reach Plymouth as speedily as
possible. When you are safe beneath my father's roof, then will be time
enough to think of me. I feel no doubt that Governor Bradford will
afford you every assistance in his power; and, probably, will again
allow the vessel that brought us here in brighter days, to convey me
once more to you and to happiness.'
Edith had tried to speak with steadiness and composure; and, so far,
she had succeeded tolerably well. But when she realized to herself the
time that must elapse before she could rejoin her husband, and all the
dangers and privations that might await him in the interval, her
calmness quite gave way, and she burst into tears of uncontrollable
agony.
Roger strove to cheer her, and to point to the happy future that he
trusted was in store for them--if not on earth, yet assuredly in a
better world, where faithful hearts will never know the misery of
parting. But it was not until he had knelt with her in prayer, and had
humbly asked to meet the coming trial, and to be sanctified by it, that
her tears ceased to flow, and a smile of hope and resignation illumined
her interesting countenance.
'I must act now, Roger,' she said, in a cheerful voice, as she rose
from her knees. 'Our time is short; and I must make such arrangements
for your comfort during your journey as are in my power. All other
things that are needful to you I will endeavor to send by sea to
Plymouth; or, if no opportunity occurs during the winter, you must have
patience until I can convey them myself.’
Her voice again trembled; and unbidden tears again rose to her eyes.
But she sought relief in occupation; and on the day after the morrow,
when Roger was to commence his toilsome journey at break of day, his
knapsack was ready, and stored with everything that would be most
requisite to his comfort.
The moment of parting came; but we will not describe it. It was borne
by Edith as a devoted Christian wife can bear anything that is
necessary for the safety and welfare of her husband. But when he was
gone, and her swimming eyes could no longer see his beloved form, or
catch his last signal of farewell, the whole desolation of her own
position burst upon her: and Edith was, for a time, bowed down with
grief. She felt herself alone in the world, and she shrank from seeking
comfort or sympathy from any human being who was then near her. But
friends whom she could not then expect to see were near, and the
wounded heart found a balm and a consolation beyond its hopes.
The very evening after Roger's departure, Edith's spirit was cheered by
the arrival of Elliot and his wife at her now dreary home. O, how she
welcomed them! and how deeply they sympathized in her distress and
anxiety! They had heard of the last summons that had been sent from the
General Assembly; and had hastened to Salem, in spite of the severity
of the weather to offer any assistance or counsel that might be needed
by either Roger or Edith. They rejoiced, with much thankfulness, when
they heard of his having escaped the cruel vengeance of his
adversaries; but their minds were filled with fear and anxiety, when
they reflected on the many perils that he might encounter on his long
journey, and the sufferings from cold, and hunger, and fatigue, that he
must endure in his present debilitated state of health. They did not,
however, add to Edith's anxiety by telling of their own, but exerted
themselves to cheer and rouse her, and lead her to place a perfect
trust in the over-ruling care of Him, without whose permission not even
a sparrow can fall to the ground.
The wisdom of the plan that Edith had persuaded her husband to adopt
was soon but too apparent; for, in a few days, a pinnace arrived at
Salem, bringing an officer and attendants, who were commissioned by the
General Assembly to seize on the offending pastor, and convey him on
board a vessel that was lying at Nantasket, ready for sea. But this
cruel and arbitrary intention was happily frustrated. The officer came
to the dwelling of Williams, and had the mortification of finding that
he had been gone three days; nor could all his threats or persuasions
obtain from any of the inmates the least information concerning his
flight. He also sought out, and strictly interrogated, several of the
inhabitants of Salem, who were known to be the partisans of this
persecuted friend of liberty. But, although they were well acquainted
with his sudden departure and his destination, and some of the younger
men were even preparing to follow him, not one of them betrayed their
respected leader.
The officer therefore returned to Boston, to report the ill-success of
his errand, which excited much wrath and vexation in the members of the
Assembly, but afforded secret satisfaction to the amiable Governor
Winthrop, who had unwillingly submitted to the decision of a large
majority of the government, and who had kindly exerted himself to
rescue from a cruel and unjust fate the man whose only fault consisted
in a determination to think for himself.
Meanwhile, the fugitive was pursuing his slow and difficult way through
the woods and wilds to the south of Salem. But whither should he direct
his steps? Every road out of the district must lead him through the
territory of his foes and persecutors; and he dared not show in any of
the hamlets or villages, where his person and reputation were well
known, lest he should be seized and given up to the magistrates of
Boston. He, therefore, traveled chiefly by night, guided by the moon
and stars, and lay concealed in some damp covert, or rocky ravine,
during the day. The small stock of provisions that Edith had placed in
his knapsack was soon expended, and for some days he subsisted on the
nuts and berries that still remained on the trees.
At length he felt himself safe from immediate pursuit, and changed his
course suddenly to the east. He emerged from the shelter of the woods,
and, hurrying across the open plain that skirted the bay, he found
himself at the spot which he desired to reach. This was a little cove
on the shore, surrounded on the land side by rocks, and only capable of
receiving a small boat into its tranquil harbor. As Roger approached
the water's edge, and stepped round the last point of rock that
concealed the inlet, he made a signal, which, to his great joy, was
instantly replied to from within. Day was just dawning over the far
horizon, and a dim twilight shone on the smooth and boundless ocean
that spread to the east. A few light strokes of an oar fell on Roger's
ear, and then he saw the white spray, and the dark form of a boat
emerging from the gloomy cavern that was formed by the overhanging
rocks. In a moment his hand was grasped in that of a friend, and all
his sense of loneliness vanished away.
Seaton entreated him to lose no time in entering the boat, and leaving
the inhospitable shores of Massachusetts; and Williams gladly obeyed
him. The little shallop, which his friends at Salem had secretly
purchased, and sent by one of the most devoted of their number to meet
him at the appointed place, was well supplied with provisions and warm
clothing, which proved a most seasonable relief to Roger; but the most
acceptable part of its contents was a letter from Edith, informing him
of the welcome arrival of their friends, the Elliots, at Salem, and of
the futile efforts of the men of Boston to make him a prisoner. Edith
wrote more cheerfully than she felt; and she spoke of the happy time
when they would be reunited, and of her hopes that it was not far
distant, assuring him that she was willing--and trusted, ere long, to
be able--to follow him to any spot where he might fix his home.
This letter, and the refreshment with which Seaton furnished him,
raised his drooping and exhausted spirits; and, at his friend's
request, he wrapped himself in the large boat-cloak that his provident
wife had sent for him and lay down to enjoy the first calm and
undisturbed repose that had been permitted to him since he left his
beloved home.
Silently and rapidly the little boat glided over the calm surface of
the bay; and, ere long, it was opposite to the harbor of Boston, and
might be espied by some of the vessels lying there, Roger still slept
the deep sleep of exhaustion and security; but Seaton now required his
aid, and reluctantly aroused him to take a second oar, and speed the
shallop past the region of danger. Roger sprang to his feet, and seized
the oar, and the boat darted forward from the impulse of his now fresh
and powerful arm. It passed near several boats belonging to the
Bostoners; but the fugitive drew his large Spanish hat over his brows,
and hid his well-known form and dress beneath the folds of the ample
cloak, and thus escaped detection or observation.
It was his intention to row down the bay as far as New Plymouth, where
he designed to visit Edith's parents and apprise them of all that had
befallen him; and also endeavor to prevail on Bradford to send a
vessel, as soon as the inclemency of the weather had subsided, to bring
his wife to her paternal home. He then proposed to go on with Seaton,
and any of the Plymouthers who would accompany him, and seek a
settlement further to the south, in some part of Narragansett Bay. But
this scheme was not permitted to be carried out.
Towards evening, a fresh breeze sprang up from the east; and before
sun-set it blew so violently, that Roger and his companion had the
greatest difficulty in keeping their little vessel out at sea, and
preventing its being dashed on the coral reefs that girt that 'stern
and rock-bound coast.' Manfully they wrought at the oars; but their
strength was almost exhausted, and no creek or inlet offered them a
secure refuge. Still they persevered--for it was a struggle for life!
The least remission of their toil would have placed them at the mercy
of the wind, and they must have been driven violently against the
sunken rocks.
At length, when the light of day was failing them, and they began to
give themselves up as lost, the keen eye of Roger espied an opening
through the foam-covered reef; and though it was narrow, and evidently
dangerous, he and Seaton resolved to make a desperate effort to pass
through it, and gain the smooth still waters that they knew must lie
between the rock and the shore.
They breathed a fervent and heart-felt prayer for help from above, and
then commenced the fearful contest. The moment they turned the prow of
their shallop towards the shore, the light and buoyant little vessel
darted forward, impelled by both wind and tide, and mounted like a
seabird on the rolling waves. The dashing spray fell ever it, almost
blinding its crew, and the helm no longer had power to divert its
headlong course.
'Now may He who rules the storm have pity on my Edith!' exclaimed
Roger, as he saw the fail extent of their peril, and not a fear for
himself crossed his steadfast soul. 'May the Lord of the winds and the
waves be our guide and protector, or the next minute will be our last!'
He clasped his hands in prayer, and raised his kindling eye to the
frowning heavens above him. But his eye of faith could look through
those dark clouds, and see a Father's hand of love and mercy governing
and controlling the elements: and his spirit was at peace.
'Now God be praised!' cried Seaton, as he drew a long shivering breath;
and snatching up both the oars, projected them on each side of the boat
to protect it from the rocks that bounded the narrow channel. 'We have
entered the passage; and, with Heaven's help, we shall yet be saved.'
They had, indeed, dashed straight into the opening that divided the
reef, and through which the waves were rushing at a terrific rate; and
their only apparent chance of safety lay in the possibility of guiding
the little bark through the channel, without its being impelled against
the rugged sides. Williams caught one of the oars from his friend, and
both directed their whole strength to this object. There was a brief
interval of breathless suspense; and then the boat struck on a hidden
coral rock. It was but for a moment--another swelling wave lifted it
again, and rolled forward, bearing the little vessel on its summit into
the smooth water that lay, like a narrow lake, between the dangerous
reef and the flat sandy shore.
But the peril was not yet over. The blow-on the rock, though momentary,
had been so violent as to spring a leak in the bottom of the boat; and
through this the water gushed up with fearful rapidity, threatening to
sink it before the shore could be reached. Again the oars were pulled
with the strength of desperation; and again the danger was averted. But
Roger Williams and his friend found themselves on a desert and
uninhabited coast, with a useless vessel, and no means of proceeding to
Plymouth.
Still their lives had been providentially preserved, and they were
deeply grateful to the Divine power which had been exerted for their
rescue. And faith and courage, and bodily strength were their portion
likewise: and they did not despair. They slept long and soundly; and
the following morning, having ascertained that the boat was too
seriously injured to be repaired by any means at their command, they
resolved on abandoning it, and recommenced their journey on foot.
The extreme difficulty of reaching Plymouth by land, and the wide
circuit from the course that he wished ultimately to pursue that must
be traveled in order to reach the settlement of the Pilgrim Fathers,
caused Williams to relinquish that part of his plan, and decide on
striking at once into the forest, and pursuing a south-westerly course
until he should arrive at Narragansett Bay. This would lead him through
the trackless woods, and the dreary wilds, inhabited only by the
barbarous and untutored red men. But from them he hoped to meet with
that hospitality and succor which was denied him by his fellow-
countrymen and fellow-Christians.