THE COMING OF THE QUAKERS
In the year 1656, Boston was in a fever of excitement. Some Quakers had
come to town.
The sect had first put in an appearance in England under the teachings
of one George Fox, an earnest, conscientious preacher who, at the
early age of nineteen, had felt called upon to give up everything for
religion. How his disciples came to receive their curious name is not
positively known. One theory is that they were so-called because they
were given to excitable, nervous tremblings, but the Quakers themselves
have claimed a different origin. According to them, at one time when
Mr. Fox was arrested and sent to prison in England, he called upon
those around him to tremble at the word of the Lord. Thereupon the
magistrate who pronounced the sentence bestowed the term “Quakers” upon
his followers. In any case, it was a nickname, a term of contempt in
the seventeenth century, and did not then, as later, carry with it
respect and honor.
But why should Massachusetts be alarmed at the coming of this people?
Did she object to their habit of using “thee” and “thou” in ordinary
speech? Did she consider that, by keeping their heads covered even in
the presence of the authorities, they were lacking in proper respect?
Or was it that their refusal to take up arms even in a just war was
a dangerous doctrine? The Bay Colony doubtless disapproved of all
these things. But there were other reasons--and stronger ones--why she
frowned upon the newcomers.
First, the Quakers professed to be guided by an “inner light.” Whatever
it directed them to do, or they thought it directed them to do, that
they did, regardless of consequences. It was their sole authority,
higher even than the commands of the Massachusetts magistrates and
elders. The colony decided to put an end to such unheard-of thinking
at once. They were all the more resolved to do this because of the
peculiar actions of the Quakers. A few misguided ones, professing to
be led by this same “inner light,” did the most extravagant things in
their zeal to spread their faith. They used rude, harsh language, they
went about half-naked, were disorderly in the streets, and in other
ways tried to attract attention. One Quaker even created a disturbance
in a meeting-house in Boston. Entering with two bottles in his hands,
he crashed them before the assembled congregation, crying, “Thus will
the Lord break you in pieces!” In these frenzied disciples of Fox
there was almost no resemblance to the quiet, respectable, inoffensive
Friends of to-day.
If such outbreaks had occurred in other parts of New England, the
offenders would have been punished--yes, even in the liberal colony
planted by Roger Williams. For being annoyed, Massachusetts cannot be
blamed. For resorting to the extreme measures she did in dealing with
the followers of Fox, the Bay Colony had no excuse. It is one of the
dark blots on her history.
The very year the Quakers appeared, a severe law was put into effect
against them. It provided that all ship-masters bringing Quakers into
the colony should be fined one hundred pounds and should give security
to carry them back whence they came, that all persons of this belief
should be committed to the House of Correction, first whipped and then
kept hard at work until transported. In addition, a fine of five pounds
was imposed for every Quaker book or writing found in the colony. The
penalty for defending Quaker opinions was forty shillings for the first
offence, four pounds for the second, and banishment for the third.
Calmly, unresistingly, the persecuted ones paid their fines, served
their prison terms, allowed themselves to be banished, and--kept
on doing the same things over and over again! Massachusetts did
not realize in the least that she was using the very best means of
encouraging the faith that she wished to stamp out. The Quakers
_wanted_ to be martyrs. They gloried in suffering and abuse. The more
they were downtrodden, the more they increased and prospered.
Now we come to the part played by the little colony of Providence
Plantations in the controversy. Roger Williams was still president when
the severities of Massachusetts began. When banished from that colony,
the Quakers had to seek a new home, of course. What more convenient
or attractive refuge than that of Narragansett Bay, where liberty
of worship was not considered a crime? So they flocked thither in
increasing numbers.
Roger Williams’ great principle, upon which the colony was founded, was
now put to a severe test, the most severe it had ever known. Hitherto,
all pilgrims of whatever creed, or no creed at all, had been made
heartily welcome. But would a like invitation be extended this strange,
peculiar people, who were in disgrace everywhere else? The answer came
boldly, courageously--_yes_.
The United Colonies decided it was their duty to show their liberal
sister colony the error of her ways. The commissioners, therefore,
informed her that as they considered they could not be too careful in
preserving themselves from such a pest as “Quakers, ranters, and such
notorious heretics,” they would ask that all persons of the despised
sect be removed from the Colony of Providence Plantations and in the
future be prohibited from entering it.
The reply to this command was exactly what might be expected. Roger
Williams’ term of office had expired, but his spirit was still in the
air. In two letters the brave little colony placed herself on record as
to the stand she took in regard to the unpopular Quakers.
“As concerning these Quakers which are now among us,” the first letter
went on, “we have no law among us whereby to punish for only declaring
by words, etc., their minds and understandings concerning the things
and ways of God, as to salvation and an eternal condition.”
One shrewd bit of advice was also given, which the other colony
might well have heeded. Providence Plantations pointed out that if
no attention was paid the Quakers, they would quickly cease to be
troublesome.
“And we moreover find,” the writers explained, “that in those places
where these people aforesaid in this colony are most of all suffered
to declare themselves freely and are only opposed by arguments in
discourse, there they least of all desire to come, and we are informed
that they begin to loathe this place, for that they are not opposed by
the civil authority, but with all patience and meekness are suffered
to say over their pretended revelations and admonitions, nor are they
like or able to gain many here to their way; surely we find that
they delight to be persecuted by civil powers, and when they are so,
they are like to gain more adherents by the conceit of their patient
sufferings than by consent to their pernicious sayings.”
In the second letter penned by Providence Plantations, the colony
reminded the commissioners that she still prized “freedom of different
consciences as the greatest happiness that men can possess in this
world.” If the Quakers disturbed the civil peace, then, and then only,
would interference be justified. In that case, the matter would be
referred to England and the offenders be sent thither.
[Illustration: Statue of Roger Williams, Roger Williams Park,
Providence]
The United Colonies then replied, hinting that Providence Plantations
would be cut off from all trade if disobedience was persisted in. After
this threatened boycott, the colonists concluded it was wise to take
some steps for protecting themselves, but recede from their position
they would not. They therefore sent a letter to their good friend and
agent in England, John Clarke, asking that he use his influence in
their behalf.
“They seem secretly to threaten us,” the letter ran, “by cutting us off
from all commerce and trade with them.... They make the prices, both of
our commodities and their own also, because we have not English coin,
but only that which passeth among these barbarians and such commodities
as are raised by the labor of our hands, as corn, cattle, tobacco, and
the like, to make payment in, which they will have at their own rate,
or else not deal with us.
“So may it please you to have an eye and care open in case our
adversaries should seek to undermine us in our privileges granted unto
us and to plead our case in such sort _as we may not be compelled to
exercise any civil power over men’s consciences_, so long as humane
orders in point of civility are not corrupted and violated.”
Brave, ringing words, that deserve to be written in letters of gold!
Massachusetts, meanwhile, continued in her unfortunate course, which,
happily, the other colonies did not follow so severely. Imprisonment,
fines, and banishment were followed by physical mutilation. As a final
step, profession of the Quaker faith was made a capital offence.
This law was not popular with the people at large, who were far more
tender-hearted than their magistrates. Very few received this extreme
sentence. The only woman to pay the death penalty was Mary Dyre, wife
of one of the leading citizens of Providence Plantations, who refused
to keep out of the forbidden territory.
In 1661, Charles II, then the reigning monarch of England, issued a
decree putting a stop to further persecution. Thus closed the five
dreadful years of Quaker punishment in New England.
The Quakers, let alone, became useful and respected citizens and
contributed a large share toward the well-being of the communities
in which they lived. In the colony of Providence Plantations, they
steadily gained followers and for over one hundred years took an active
part in public affairs. They occupied positions of prominence and
influence, especially in Newport. For five years, beginning 1672, Rhode
Island had a succession of Quaker governors.
The noble part played by the colony in the dark days of Quaker history
was due, in large part, to the teachings of Roger Williams. The stand
taken by him and his fellow colonists deserves all the more credit
because, personally, they disliked and disapproved of the Quakers. How
easy, then, it would have been to inflict punishment upon them and to
have found a perfectly good excuse for so doing!
Roger Williams wrote John Winthrop, Jr., his Connecticut correspondent,
that he rejoiced the latter’s name was not blurred but rather honored,
for his prudent and moderate hand in the Quaker trials.
For a moment we must skip a few years to the date 1672, which brings
us to the last chapter of Quaker history which has to do with Roger
Williams. In view of that part of the story that has gone before, the
admirers of the great man are a bit sorry that this chapter ever had
to be written. It happened when George Fox, the noted leader of the
Quakers, visited the colony. Roger Williams promptly challenged him to
a debate, religious discussions of this kind being very common in that
day. Failing to make arrangements to carry out this plan, he debated
with three of Fox’s most capable disciples instead. They argued three
days in Newport and one day in Providence. In order to reach the first
debating-place, Roger Williams rowed all the way from Providence to
Newport, a distance of thirty miles. It was an all day’s work--no small
task for a man about seventy years of age.
The meeting was a heated one. Nearly every one lost his temper and even
Roger Williams was unlike his usual kindly, charitable self. Nobody’s
opinion was changed and both sides claimed the victory. Each published
a book presenting long, dry, uninteresting arguments. That of Roger
Williams was entitled “George Fox digged out of his Burrows,” while the
Quaker volume was called “A New England Firebrand Quenched.”
Whatever may be thought about Roger Williams’ part in these
proceedings, he himself thought he was doing the colony a service by
arguing the matter in public. It was probably his purpose to show
that the community did not approve of disorder and disrespect of the
authorities. He maintained that it was not persecution to punish
moderately for such disrespect and grotesque offences as had marked the
advent of the Friends in Massachusetts.
In spite of his views concerning the early Quakers, Roger Williams
numbered among his friends many of this faith. He never allowed his
prejudices to govern him in his dealings with them. Best of all--and to
his lasting glory be it said--he never lifted a finger against them,
and no page of the history of the colony he founded is stained with
Quaker blood.