THE WAR OF WORDS
Very little is known about Roger Williams’ home in Salem, beyond the
fact that it was the former residence of Francis Higginson, a teacher
of the Salem church. At his death, the house passed to Mrs. Higginson,
but after occupying it but for a short time, she allowed her husband’s
successor to take possession of it. Roger Williams probably bought it
outright, for later he spoke of mortgaging it to raise needed funds. If
it was like the usual Colonial dwelling of that day, it was plain and
rather bare, but comfortable and roomy to a degree, after the early New
England standard. A gabled roof, generous open fireplaces, and windows
made up of many tiny panes of glass were its most conspicuous features.
As to the church in which Roger Williams preached, even less
information has been gleaned than that relating to his home. For many
years a tradition has persisted that it was a diminutive, raftered
structure with steep-pitched roof and clay floor--the whole thing more
nearly resembling a backwoods cabin than a place of worship. There
is little reason to think that the Salem congregations--with whom
church-going was a sacred duty--could have been housed in such a rude
chapel, which was no larger than a good-sized room. Yet while the First
Church was an improvement on this, it must have presented a striking
contrast to the beautiful Old World cathedral churches, with which some
of the parishioners were familiar.
Back in Salem, Roger Williams soon found himself in the midst of a war
of words far more serious than any that had gone before. He was first
called to account by the governor and his assistants for the pamphlet
he had written in Plymouth declaring that the right of the Indians to
the territory they occupied was greater than that of the King. Upon
being censured for his opinions, Roger Williams was, for once, very
humble. He said he had no intention of causing trouble and even went
so far as to offer to burn a portion, or even the whole, of the book
if the authorities so desired. The charge was dropped for the time
being. His accusers “found the matters not to be so evil as at first
they seemed.” Yet scarcely a year had passed before he was summoned to
appear before the court for persisting “in teaching publicly against
the King’s patent, and our great sin in claiming right thereby to this
country.”
They were not always big questions that occupied the attention of New
England congregations at this time. Roger Williams was guilty, with
the others, of entering into lengthy discussions about what would seem
to us to-day very unimportant trifles. He was no perfect hero, but had
his faults and weaknesses, like the best of men. Some writers are of
the opinion that he often argued merely for the sake of differing from
others. We should be charitable to both him and his rigid neighbors,
remembering the narrow age in which they lived.
Think of the absurdity of a whole community getting wildly excited
over the question of women wearing veils in churches and other
public places! Roger Williams attempted to show that no modest woman
would appear with face uncovered. John Cotton, in an earnest sermon,
taught just the opposite. John Endicott of course had a voice in the
dispute--there were those who said he was the one who started it--and
quoted much Scripture to show _he_ was in the right. Finally, the
governor himself had to step in and quiet them all. What a puzzling
existence it must have been for the poor women of Salem! When their
brilliant, learned ministers flatly contradicted one another, yet all
took the Bible for authority, what course was open for a mere woman of
ordinary intelligence?
The veil controversy was, without question, unimportant and even silly.
Another matter now came up, which was somewhat more serious. John
Endicott got into trouble because he cut the red cross of St. George
out of the military colors. To him it was an anti-Christian sign that
ought not to be retained by people who had broken away from symbols
and ceremonies. The General Court punished him by depriving him of
public office for a year. What had Roger Williams to do with it all?
Absolutely nothing, as far as can be found out. Yet the blame has
long rested on his shoulders, because, it was claimed, if he had not
preached the doctrines he did, John Endicott would never have thought
of such a thing!
Roger Williams was not regularly ordained until after the death of
Mr. Skelton. Then, in defiance of the magistrates, who were greatly
displeased, the Salem church welcomed him as pastor. The people to whom
he ministered had something of his own courageous spirit in holding out
for the appointment.
The Indian question was not the only one for which the General Court
rebuked Roger Williams. On one charge or another, he was repeatedly
in disgrace. One of his offences was the stand he took in regard to
oaths. He held “that a magistrate ought not to tender an oath to
an unregenerate man.” To us, this taking of an oath seems a simple
enough duty and one to which there could be no objection. With Roger
Williams, however, it meant an act of worship and, as such, should not
be forced upon anybody, least of all upon one to whom it had no real
meaning. Believing as he did that the Lord’s name should never be taken
in vain, was it not wrong to require a man who did not fear God to take
such phrases on his lips as, “I therefore do swear by the great and
dreadful name of the ever living God,” and “So help me, God in the Lord
Jesus Christ”? To him this was nothing less than profanity.
The solemn words quoted above are to be found in what was known as
the Freeman’s Oath, which was a pledge of loyalty and support to
the government. The person taking the oath agreed to submit to the
“wholesome laws” established by that government. Now Roger Williams
had found some of these laws anything but wholesome. Then, too, the
Freeman’s Oath seemed to transfer allegiance from the King to the
government of Massachusetts and was, therefore, contrary to the
charter. Thus there were reasons why Roger Williams objected to
oath-taking in general and may have objected to this oath in particular.
Heading the list of “divers dangerous opinions” brought against the
once “godly minister” by the General Court in July, 1635, was this:
“That the magistrates ought not to punish the breach of the first
table, otherwise than in such cases as did disturb the civil peace.”
The words have a familiar sound. Denial of the civil power to exert
authority over a man’s conscience--the true Roger Williams principle!
It was this, as we have seen, which caused a breach with the
authorities almost as soon as the troublesome preacher landed in New
England. At this court, he was plainly told that at the next court he
must either “give satisfaction or else expect the sentence.”
So things went from bad to worse. Roger Williams became ill. He had
traveled back and forth, from Salem to Boston, from Boston to Salem,
with weary limbs but dauntless courage, to argue questions that he
honestly believed were matters of conscience and not of state. At
first his church loyally supported him. In return, the magistrates
treated the church like a naughty child who has done wrong and must
be deprived of something it longs for until it makes up its mind to
be good again. In this case, the withheld treasure was some land in
Marblehead Neck to which the church laid claim. Both minister and
congregation wrote sharp letters to the Bay churches, protesting
against the persecution of their magistrate members. Alas, the churches
were not big enough morally to range themselves against the authorities
and their injustice!
Feeble, discouraged, with a sense of injury rankling within, Roger
Williams withdrew from them and refused to have anything more to do
with his own church unless it did the same. It was an extreme measure,
but there was great provocation. Unfortunately, the Salem church lost
its brief bravery and decided to “be good.” Its minister was left to
fight his battle single-handed.
A crisis rapidly approached. Of course Roger Williams refused to change
his views. He could not conscientiously do so, and he was not the
coward to proclaim one thing while believing another. In the autumn,
therefore, the following sentence of banishment was passed, after
Thomas Hooker had vainly tried to open the eyes of the culprit:
“Whereas Mr. Roger Williams, one of the elders of the church of Salem,
hath broached and divulged divers new and dangerous opinions, against
the authority of magistrates, as also writ letters of defamation,
both of the magistrates and churches here, and that before any
conviction, and yet maintaineth the same without retraction, it is
therefore ordered, that the said Mr. Williams shall depart out of this
jurisdiction within six weeks now next ensuing, which if he neglect to
perform, it shall be lawful for the governor and two of the magistrates
to send him to some place out of this jurisdiction, not to return any
more without license from the court.”
Only one voice was raised against this decree--an unknown champion
whose name has never been found out. Yet the town of Salem, more
merciful than its magistrates, was in an uproar at the news.
[Illustration:
This photograph was taken on Roger Williams Avenue, Philipsdale, East
Providence. A glimpse of the Seekonk River is seen in the background.
The house itself has no historical interest.
The tree is marked with a tablet bearing these words: “This oak tree
marks the first dwelling place of Roger Williams after his banishment
from Salem, Mass., in 1636, which he abandoned in the spring of
that year by request of Governor Winslow of Plymouth. The spring is
160 feet north. This tree was planted April 27, 1904, by the Roger
Williams Association.”]
It would be too tedious and wearisome to wade through all the disputes
of those troublous days. After a lapse of nearly three hundred years,
it is not easy to decide accurately who was in the right and who in the
wrong. There is still a great difference of opinion on the subject.
There was, without doubt, something of right and wrong on both sides.
Some of the points Roger Williams fought for with vigor were not worth
the effort, others were big principles that the world has long since
adopted.
It will throw some light on the matter to know just what the disgraced
man himself considered the true grounds of his banishment. He tells us
one of the magistrates rightly summed up the offences under four heads:
“First, that we have not our land by patent from the King, but that the
natives are the true owners of it, and that we ought to repent of such
a receiving it by patent.
“Secondly, that it is not lawful to call a wicked person to swear, to
pray, as being actions of God’s worship.
“Thirdly, that it is not lawful to hear any of the ministers of the
parish assemblies in England.
“Fourthly, that the civil magistrates’ power extends only to the bodies
and goods, and outward state of men.”
How harmless these opinions seem to-day! Tinged perhaps with a bit
of narrowness, they are at the same time hardly “crimes” for which a
person should be cut off from his fellow men.
In regard to the Indian question, the colonists might have feared
trouble with the mother country as a result of Roger Williams’
utterances. Puritanism was not popular with the King and he would not
be inclined to look more kindly upon the Massachusetts pioneers when
one of their number proclaimed boldly that his father had told “a
solemn public lie, because, in his patent, he blessed God that he was
the first Christian prince that had discovered the land.”
As to the principle that the civil power should have no authority over
the consciences of men, there can be no difference of opinion. In this
respect, at least, Roger Williams was far ahead of the men with whom
he associated. On the other hand, they were sincere in their horror
of any theory that tended to divide church and state. Little did they
guess that the time would come when the two would be entirely separate
and that the honor of blazoning the way would be given to the banished
Roger Williams. Little did they dream that there would be a United
States Constitution with the clauses: “No religious test shall ever
be required as a qualification to any office or public trust under
the United States,” and “Congress shall make no law respecting an
establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof.”
On account of Roger Williams’ poor health, the time limit of six weeks
was extended to spring. He was a menace, and yet there was something so
lovable about him that even his enemies could not hate him very hard.
What a dreary outlook for the disgraced, disappointed man at the
beginning of the new year! He had now been in New England a little
less than five years. Instead of having gained a position as a
wonderful preacher with a brilliant future, he had lost his church and
even a place in the colony. That same church, after upholding his cause
for a brief period, had deserted him. The support of his dear ones was
harder than ever, for a new baby had come into the Williams household.
With health broken down under the strain of his trials, the husband and
father was yet forced to begin planning for a new home in some unknown
country to the west.
The day of banishment was hastened when it was discovered that Roger
Williams was holding meetings in his own house. “He did use to
entertain company,” so the ancient records run, “and to preach to
them, even of such points as he had been censured for.” The rumor also
went around that he had decided to found a settlement on the shores of
Narragansett Bay and to take along with him about twenty persons whom
he had won to his way of thinking. Immediately the authorities were
alarmed. It would never do to have such unsettled men for neighbors!
They might continue to spread their dangerous doctrines among the other
churches. Why not dispose of their mischievous leader once and for all
by shipping him back to England? It was the easiest way out of the
difficulty, for a vessel was even then lying at anchor, ready to sail.
For a last time poor Roger Williams was again summoned to the Boston
court. He answered that he was not able to attend. A captain by the
name of Underhill was then sent to Salem with a small sailing-vessel to
bring the ringleader back with him. He landed in the town and made his
way to the home of the man he sought. A patient, kindly woman appeared.
Was her husband at home? No. Where was he, then? She did not know. How
long had he been gone? Three whole days.
Captain Underhill returned to Boston without Roger Williams.