The Pilgrims of New England / A Tale of the Early American Settlers

by Mrs. J. B. Webb

CHAPTER XVIII

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 BRADFORDS 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.]