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.