NEW NEIGHBORS
We have seen that by the time Roger Williams had made up his mind to
emigrate to America, the most important colonies in New England were
Plymouth and the Massachusetts Bay Colony. Plymouth was Separatist and
the Bay Colony Puritan, but every day growing farther and farther from
the English Church. We would expect Roger Williams to decide upon the
Plymouth settlement as a home, as its people held similar views to his
own and it was the more liberal colony of the two. Why, instead, he
chose to live in Massachusetts Bay Colony cannot be easily explained.
Possibly in far-away England he did not rightly understand just how
matters stood in New England.
However, there was great rejoicing when the young minister and his wife
first appeared in Boston. The talented stranger was hailed as a “godly
minister” and a welcome addition to the little colony. Far different
language was used a few years later when he was turned out of that same
colony, a homeless fugitive, disgraced and forbidden ever to return!
The friendship between Roger Williams and the Bay authorities lasted
only until each had an opportunity to get better acquainted with the
other.
At first, the future loomed bright and promising to Roger Williams.
Hundreds of miles behind him were tyrannical king, heartless bishop,
and all that had made life on English soil a burden. Ahead were long
years of peace, freedom and usefulness among new neighbors who were his
own people.
How different was to be the future from what he imagined! He had
yet to learn that here, in the wilds of New England, was a tyranny,
in some respects as narrow as that of King Charles. Here, too, was
unjust persecution very much like that from which he had fled. The
Massachusetts Puritans who had left the mother country because they
could not worship according to their consciences now refused to let
others worship according to _their_ consciences. They who had been
made to suffer for thinking as they pleased now caused their neighbors
to suffer for the same reason. They held that while they had objected
to the corruptions of the established church, now that a purer form
of worship had taken its place, it must and should be supported. They
had bitterly criticized the English Church, but nobody must criticize
theirs!
The accepted law was the Ten Commandments. These were divided into
“two tables.” The first four, or those which summed up man’s duty to
God, were the “first table,” while the remaining six, which covered
the duties of man to man, were the “second table.” A person guilty
of breaking any one of the Commandments was liable to be punished
by the magistrates. The government of the colony was based upon the
old Mosaic Law. Severe and heartless were the penalties meted out to
offenders--often more severe and more heartless than those of England.
Naturally the world had progressed during the hundreds of years that
had elapsed since the rigid code of the Hebrew law-giver was in force.
Into this narrow body of believers came Roger Williams, who was to
become the “apostle of soul liberty.” From the very start, he was
looked upon as a troublemaker. A Boston clergyman, Cotton Mather,
writing about this period some years later, said that Roger Williams
had a windmill in his head.
“In the year 1654, a certain windmill in the Low Countries, whirling
round with extraordinary violence, by reason of a violent storm then
blowing, the stone at length by its rapid motion became so intensely
hot as to fire the mill, from whence the flames, being dispersed by
the high winds, did set a whole town on fire. But I can tell my reader
that, about twenty years before this, there was a whole country in
America like to be set on fire by the rapid motion of a windmill, in
the head of one particular man.”
Immediately upon his arrival, the earnest young minister was given a
chance to preach in a Boston church, but he refused for two reasons.
First, the church members were an “unseparated people” and would not
confess they were sorry for having had communion with English churches.
Now it would seem that, on this first point, Roger Williams was quite
as narrow as his neighbors. Yet he was at least consistent. Here
were his fellow-fugitives who had suffered abuse and persecution for
protesting against the “corruptions” of the established church. For the
sake of their convictions they had given up home and friends in the
Old World to face the trials and hardships of the New. Yet they still
persisted in clinging fondly to the old church.
What Roger Williams practically said to them was:
“You have left the old life behind and have started in on the new. You
have been given a chance to found a church after your own heart. Why,
then, are you not a separated people? I cannot preach to you, for _I_
have broken away forever from the church that has persecuted me.”
Roger Williams’ second objection to preaching in the Boston pulpit was
that the magistrates were allowed to punish sins of the “first table.”
This foreshadowed the principle of soul liberty, which denied the right
of civil power to interfere in spiritual matters.
The whole trouble arose from the Puritans confusing church and state.
They could not comprehend that the two should be separate, independent
bodies. In the spring of 1631, they passed a law providing that only
church members should have the privilege of citizenship. They believed
that the magistrates had just as much right to punish for spiritual
offences as for civil offences, or those which disturbed the well-being
of the community. When Roger Williams had carried his views on the
subject to a logical conclusion years later, he made them clear in the
form of a parable.
He said that the State was like an immense ship carrying all kinds of
passengers. Among them are Catholics, Protestants, Jews and Turks.
Their different religions are, of course, very unlike and the captain
should be sensible enough to understand this and let each one worship
as he pleases, according to his own peculiar custom. This is only fair,
as long as the passengers remain peaceful and orderly. If, however,
any one of them refuses to pay for his passage or disturbs the peace,
then and then only has the captain a right to step in and punish the
offender. But he does not interfere because the culprit is a Jew or a
Catholic or a Protestant, but because he has not respected the rights
of others. In the same way, the State has a right to see that its
citizens are well-behaved, but should leave their religion alone.
From the very beginning, then, there was trouble for Roger Williams.
Not many months passed before he received an appointment as assistant
to the Reverend Samuel Skelton of Salem. The General Court of
Massachusetts did not like the choice of the Salem people and wrote
a letter to that effect. Nevertheless, the sentiment in favor of the
outspoken minister was such that he was allowed to take his charge
without difficulty.
At this settlement, matters progressed more smoothly. Roger Williams’
congregation was well pleased with him and showed their affection for
him after he ceased being their minister, as we shall see. He was not
permitted, however, to remain here more than a few months, for the
authorities could not leave any man alone who was believed to be such
a mischief-maker. By the close of summer, he was obliged to move to
Plymouth.
For two years he led a fairly peaceful life in his new home, but it was
not an easy existence. “At Plymouth,” he wrote, “I spake on the Lord’s
days and week days and wrought hard at the hoe for my bread.”
During his ministry, Governor Winthrop of Massachusetts, in company
with others, went to Plymouth for a little visit, going afoot the
latter part of the journey. They were met outside the town, escorted to
the governor’s house, and royally entertained at different homes in the
days that followed. On Sunday, they attended church, of course. Roger
Williams was the preacher, although the Plymouth governor, elders and
guests also took part in the service. The peaceful Sabbath afternoon
stands out in strange contrast to the stormy scenes that came after.
During this period, a little daughter was born, to whom was given the
name of her mother, Mary.
While Roger Williams was not persecuted at Plymouth, he was very
ready to return to Salem and the good friends he had left there when
the opportunity came. Receiving a second call from the Salem church,
probably in the summer of 1633, he gave up his ministry in Plymouth
and made preparations to go back to his old parish. Some of his
congregation were loath to have him go--in fact, so closely had he
endeared them to him that several followed him to Salem.
Before taking up Roger Williams’ history in that town, let us pause
for a moment to see who some of the men were who had already come in
contact with the vigorous preacher or who were to shape his future
course. Such a grim portrait gallery of unflinching old Puritans they
represent! As we look at some of the stern, forbidding faces, we
cannot help being grateful that we are living in the twentieth century
instead of the age of Roger Williams.
Occupying a central place on the dark canvas is a Puritan of the
Puritans--intellectual, proud, superior. There is no mistaking
him--John Cotton, of whom we have had a glimpse before. His mouth
seems about to open, so eager is he for a learned argument. He is the
exact opposite of Roger Williams and the two men are to be pitted
against each other all their lives. The title of “unmitered pope of New
England” will be given him by future generations. Like his opponent,
he follows what he believes to be the path of right, but whereas with
Roger Williams it leads to liberty, with John Cotton it leads to
persecution. We pass to the next portrait with a sigh of relief.
Thomas Hooker, also the friend of early days, comes next. Milder, less
learned, perhaps, than John Cotton, he still has a reputation for able
argument. He is to labor long and earnestly to make the mischief-maker
see the error of his ways.
Governor Bradford of _Mayflower_ fame, dignified and scholarly, comes
next in order. There is nothing of the tyrant in his make-up. While
believing Roger Williams “unsettled in judgment,” he is just enough to
say that he is “a man godly and zealous, having many precious parts.”
Though he does not entirely approve of him, he is “thankful to him,
even for his sharpest admonitions and reproofs so far as they agree
with truth.”
We linger long upon the next portrait--a kindly face, that of a
good friend. It is another governor of Plymouth, Edward Winslow.
Fortunate, indeed, is Roger Williams to have this “great and pious
soul” interested in him. Dark days are ahead and his friendship--not to
mention a welcome piece of gold for needed family provisions--will not
come amiss.
We hardly believe that Elder Brewster, the next in line, could bring
himself to do so gracious a deed. His conscience is too sensitive.
Thankful enough is he that the call to the Salem church will prevent
the further spreading of “dangerous” doctrine in Plymouth. It is the
part of prudence to bid Roger Williams Godspeed.
Who is that eager, restless person who occupies the next place--whose
flashing eyes and open face tell as plainly as words that he is the
creature of impulse? He is always doing hasty things, being sorry
for them, and then doing the next hasty thing that presents itself!
Big-hearted, reckless, courageous, narrow John Endicott! It is no
wonder he is often in disgrace. Let us not forget that more than once
he champions the cause of Roger Williams.
The finest Puritan of them all comes last, Governor John Winthrop
of the Bay Colony. A splendid, noble face is his. He is every inch
a gentleman. He has brought the best of old England into the crude
life of New England and is helping to build up so sturdy a race that
the generations which follow will be proud of their descent from him
and Puritans like him. He does not agree with Roger Williams, but a
life-long friendship springs up between the two. “Mr. John Winthrop,”
said the younger man, “tenderly loved me to his last breath.” Many of
the quaint, old-fashioned letters addressed to the Bay governor have
come down to us. “I sometimes fear,” says the writer, “that my lines
are as thick and over-busy as the mosquitoes.” He discusses religious
questions, talks over Indian troubles and asks Winthrop’s advice,
because, says he, “of the frequent experience of your loving ear, ready
and open toward me.”
These, then, were a few of Roger Williams’ neighbors. There were still
other neighbors, who were friends as well. These were the New England
Indians. From the very beginning of his new life in America, Roger
Williams had taken a deep interest in them. For one thing, he held that
as they were the first-comers, the land belonged to them and could not
be rightly owned by others, except by purchase. It is true that most
of the colonists did pay for the territory they occupied whatever the
natives thought it was worth, yet as soon as Roger Williams gave his
opinion on the subject, he was accused of disloyalty. It was one thing
to bargain with the savages, quite another to announce boldly that
James, who granted the first New England charter, was not “sovereign
lord” of the whole continent, and that those who claimed land merely by
royal grant had no title to it whatever.
In spite of opposition, Roger Williams had the courage of his
convictions. He wrote a treatise on the subject which he sent to the
governor and council of Plymouth.
No portion of Roger Williams’ life is more interesting than that which
deals with the red men. The Wampanoags or Pokanokets, whose chief was
Massasoit, occupied the Plymouth territory, while to the west were the
powerful Narragansetts, whose sachems were Canonicus and Miantonomo. To
gain the friendship of the Indians, Roger Williams endured all kinds
of hard and unpleasant experiences, for his “soul’s desire was to do
the natives good.” He visited them, he encouraged their visiting him,
he patiently studied their language. To quote his own words: “God was
pleased to give me a painful, patient spirit to lodge with them in
their filthy, smoky holes (even while I lived at Plymouth and Salem)
to gain their tongue.”
It was a fortunate thing for the colonists that Roger Williams
took this trouble. Otherwise he would not have been able to act as
interpreter and peacemaker in after years, when Indian uprisings
threatened the settlements. It is not an exaggeration to say that
no one man prevented more bloodshed in early New England than Roger
Williams.
The Indians, often suspicious and untrustworthy where other men were
concerned, always showed a child-like confidence in their best friend.
This was not because he “took sides” with them. Often he told them they
were in the wrong and urged them to do the right thing by their white
neighbors. It was the absolute justice and sincerity of Roger Williams
that won their admiration. He could tell no lie. Of that they felt
sure, so they accepted what he told them without argument or denial.