 Boston, April 30th. The banishment of Roger Williams from Massachusetts ended officially today. With a stroke of his pen, the governor of Massachusetts rescinded the decree of the Bay Colony's General Court, which in 1635 gave the outspoken radical of his day six weeks to get out of town. The NBC University of the Air presents We Came This Way, a new historical series for our listeners at home and overseas. With John W. Vander Cook as narrator, we bring you chapter nine, Voice in the Wilderness, and We Came This Way. What is the sound of intolerance? What shape? Intolerance has many shapes, many sounds. The forming and noise of a word. Kike, nigga, nick, whoop. Part of a fine-edged blade falling in a slot. Of late, the leaden spitting machine guns in a village square, the low hiss of gas in a sealed up chamber. All these are the sounds of intolerance. All these and many more. But down through history, one sound above all others has been the symbol of the persecution of man by man. The sound of fire. Sometimes the flames of intolerance have devoured books. Sometimes they've eaten up the houses of which man shelters himself against the storm. And sometimes there was a boy in London once three centuries ago who was playing the streets on a windy morning in March, who's interrupted by... That comes from Smithfield Marketplace. Let's go see. What's up, sir? Can you tell me what's up? Yes, I believe I can, lad. Husband, he's been a child. Send him away. Well, the earlier he learns of the goodness of his rulers, the better it'll be for him. What are you called, lad? Roger, sir. Roger Williams. Now, look there, Roger. By that pile of faggots. Oh, here's the sheriff of London to tell you himself. The Reverend Father in Christ, the Bishop of London, hath delivered over one Bartholomew Leggett as a blasphemous heretic to our secular power to be punished with combined punishment. We, James Rex, therefore, as a zealot of justice and a defender of the faith, command you that the said Bartholomew Leggett, being in your custody, you do commit publicly to the fire before the people in a public and open place in West Smithfield for the manifest example of other Christians lest they slide into the same fault and this that in no wise you admit under the peril that shall follow there are. Bartholomew Leggett. I hold here the King's pardon to be handed to you in the event that you, even at this last moment, acknowledge your errors and recant your heresies. Bartholomew Leggett, what is your testimony? Humbly and unworthy as I am, I commend my soul to the Lord. Light the fire. Our Father, which art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth. That was the sound of intolerance as it first came to the ears of Roger Williams when he played in the streets of London. Norway's thereafter, when intolerance spoke, there leaped up in his mind's ear the sound of flames. He was 30, Roger Williams, Bachelor of Arts of Pembroke College, Cambridge University, Minister of the Gospel and the Centre from the established Church of England. Was aboard the good ship Lyon in the dead of winter, his young wife at his side, England behind him, a land of wilderness and opportunity ahead. Yes, dear. Do you think... shall we ever see England again? I, if God wills it. When the persecutors are swept from the high places and the man is free to worship in the light of his own conscience. Will that be soon, husband? In the old England, perhaps soon, perhaps late. But the New England, Mary, the New England is such a land now. Look, somewhere ahead of us there, beyond the icy water of free church waits for us and a virgin wilderness and barbarous Indians who have never had word of the Prince of Peace. The great worker waits, you, Roger. England is a lovely land, even in winter. I... even in winter. I take comfort and strength from you, dear husband. For a woman, exile is no easy thing. Exile is no easy thing for a man. It was February 1631 when the good ship Lyon docked in Boston Harbor. And soon after, the magistrates of the Massachusetts Bay Colony held a festival of thanksgiving for the safe arrival of the passengers and suppliers. On their way to the meeting house... Your New England is cold, Roger. It would be warm at the meeting house. Oh, see there, Roger. A whipping post. And a ducking board. And pillories. Aye, there are thieves and criminals even here, I warrant. Look, Roger, there's a man in that pillory in this weather. It is cruel. His ears. There's blood on his ears. His ears have been cropped. A moment, Mary. Friend, what is your crime against your brothers? My brothers? My crime was against the Sabbath. The Sabbath? Sunday last, I went fishing. At the meeting house, when the hymns had been sung and the fish and squash and corn had been eaten and a biblical text expounded, the Boston leaders, some of whom he had known in England, took the young minister aside for a private talk. And now, Roger, I have news that should give you much pleasure. You were always a kind man, Governor Winthrop. Master Wilson here, the pastor of our Boston church, is returning to England for a time on a certain matter. Knowing you for a godly minister and a learned man, I have proposed and the elders have agreed that Master Wilson's place be filled by you. The Boston church? Quite a commopence for a young minister as you, eh, Mr. Williams? Not yet 30 and to be teacher of the leading church of the Bay Colony. It is a great trust, Master Wilson. I did not expect so much. Teacher of a free church. Eh? Governor Winthrop, on my way here, I passed a man in the pillory with his ears cropped. He said it was for Sabbath breaking. Aye, we have too many such. But is that an offence against the civil government here? What else? How then could we enforce the religious ordinances? But if you punish an even so smaller thing, what if there be some who dissent from the tenets of your church? Dissent? There can none dissent here. It is against the law. You have then a state church as in England? Of course, founded upon God's holy word. As it seemeth to you? What? Friends, why came you to this new land? We came because we were persecuted for our faith and yet you would persecute others for theirs. We came to be free to worship God in our own way, the true way. We did not come to found an asylum for heretics and non-believers. Are you so sure then that yours alone is the true way? Roger, heed your words or... Friends, the post you offer me, I must decline. Excuse me, my wife Beckins. That man is honest and able. That man is dangerous. He must be watched. So again Roger Williams went seeking, to plumber that first then to sail up which called him to be assistant to its pastor. There Roger Williams the minister was a citizen like any other. Accepting no payment for his preaching to make his bread, he did two things. The one he cultivated his land and he harvested more than he planted. On weekdays... Roger, you're home so late from the field. Neighbor Green tells me that they magistrates have decreed that only those men who are admitted to full church membership shall be freemen with the right to vote. So three fourths of the people now have no say in civil affairs. And on Sunday from his pulpit? Yet the sovereign origin and foundation of civil power lies in the people. Such governments as are by them established properly have no more power and for no longer time than the civil power the people consenting and agreeing shall betrust them with. Secondly Roger Williams established a post for trading with the Indians. While at Plymouth he had made friends among them and learned their language. And now... You give fair price for first, not like others. I seek to live by the law of the great spirit, father of us all. English come, steal our land. Is that law of great spirit? Steal your land. And on Sunday from his pulpit? Have sinned against truth and justice. We have come among the Indians and taken away their land. On what grounds? On patents from his majesty the king. And by what right does the king give away these lands? By no right. These lands belong to the Indians. If we wish land we must buy it from them. From town to town men carried the words of Roger Williams. May he say it that magistrates have authority only in civil things? Would he then tolerate seismatics and heretics? Tolerate them? He said they should not alone be tolerated, they should be protected by law. Have you heard? He said that the best and most just form of government is a democracy. Democracy? What is democracy? A democracy is amongst civil nations accounted the meanest and worst of all forms of government. Has not God so constructed society that whatever section or aspect of it be regarded we find ordained subjects the one bound to rule for the welfare of the other the other loyal to obey? If the people be governors, who shall be governed? We have reasoned and debated with him long enough. Let Roger Williams be brought to stand trial. In October 1635 Roger Williams, but lately risen from a sick bed sat on a bench in a meeting house courtroom. Roger Williams who rise and attend the judgment of this court. I? Whereas you have broached in diverse new and dangerous opinions against the authority of the magistrates and also have written letters of defamation both of the magistrates and churches here and yet you maintain the same without retraction. It is therefore ordered that you shall depart out of the Jewish diction within six weeks. Friends, my conscience is satisfied. I shall be ready for the same grounds not only to be bound and banished, but to die. And die he will. In the winter the wilderness is death. What will you do now, Roger? Where will you go? I've been thinking, friends, to the south along Narragansett Bay out of the jurisdiction of the English is a fertile country. But the Indians, the savages would kill you. The Indians are my friends, they would sell me land and there no man could seek to compel my conscience. There I should have freedom. Alone, Roger, in the wilderness? Perhaps I go to fulfill a prophecy. Did not Saint Mark preach as it is written in the prophets, Behold, I send my messenger before thy face which shall prepare the way before thee. The voice of one crying in the wilderness prepare ye the way of the Lord. Make his path straight. Roger, would you let me come with you? And me, Roger? And me? Friends, I'm compelled to go. You're not. Think, it would be hard beginning life in utter wilderness, hard for you and for your wives and for your children. And is life easy here where land is sold so grudgingly and a man must fear to speak his mind and many things? It would mean founding a new colony with no charter and only our few selves to rely on. But is what we need a new colony? There will be others joining us for many are discontented with the rule of the magistrates. Then friends, I will lead you, gladly, on these conditions that as we go to avoid compulsion of conscience we there strive not to compel any man's conscience. That's a good idea. Yes. That ours be a government of the people to act as all or the major part decide. Agreed? Yes, by all means. And that we all have equal shares of land admitting later settlers to equal shares with ourselves so that no small body of men, however well intended shall grow powerful to subject the whole body. Thirty Salem folk began to prepare for the migration but it was not to be even so easy. The snow was falling hard on a freezing winter afternoon when... Come in, friend. Roger Williams? Aye. I am sent of Master Winthrop to inform you privately that the magistrates have learned you plan a new colony. Aye. And they have decided to deport you back to England. Nay. Nay, they would not. Captain Underhill with 14 men is on his way here by boat. The ship that is to take you waits in Boston Harbor. Oh, Roger, what can we do? In England waits Archbishop Lord, the arch persecutor. John Winthrop is still my kind friend, God bless him. Quick, Mary. I must have some food packed and a thick blanket. Open! Open in the name of the government of Massachusetts Bay! Yes? What is it, Captain? Your husband. Where is Master Williams? I know not. What? Do you think to deceive us? Examine for yourselves, sirs. My husband departed from Salem three days ago. As the sun dropped low that bitter cold day, two Indians watched from a thicket as a lone numbed figure dragged through the snow. Look, Englishman. Alone. No gun. Come for no good. Steal our land. Let him die in snow. No. See? He good white chief. Come. Welcome, friend of Indians. Welcome, friends. I seek chief Massasoit and a fire. Come. Massasoit, not fire. That winter he spent with the Indians living in their bare, smoky tepees, eating one day ate, hungrying when they went hungry, ministering to them in sickness, telling them about the love of God, who made the men of all nations of one blood. And one evening as the red man and the white sat before a fire, Canonicus, chief of the Narragansett, took his pipe from his mouth and told him, Canonicus, sell no land to white man. You, friend of Indians. Canonicus, give you land. When spring came, five men from Salem and Boston joined the exile. Roger Williams led them by canoe down Narragansett Bay, seeking a suitable place. The spring has the sweetest water my lips have ever tasted. Well, friends, what did you find? On the other side of the hill, there flows a great river with a harbor and smaller streams stocked with trout and pike and pickerel. There are forests of oak and cedar, sturdy lumber for houses. In the woods, I saw pigeons and turkeys and fat deer. I... Friends, it must be that the most high and only wise has provided this country and this corner as a shelter for the poor and persecuted. Let our settlement be called Providence. In that first year, Providence grew to a population of 13 families and slowly, more and more, the poor and the discontented kept coming while the magistrates of the Bay Colony alternated between scorn and dismay at this new and strange society where the officials had authority in civil things only and the civil power derived from the consent of the governed. Freedom of conscience. Democratic government. But if Roger Williams will truly practice what he has preached, the end will be chaos and anarchy. The tests of his preachings and practices began early. Roger. Ah, it's pleasant to sit here by the window and the sun. We began the building of a house for neighbor Thomas this morning. It went well. All of us working together. Aye. But sit awhile now. I'll bring you porridge fresh from the fire. Roger, where are you going? Keep the porridge hot, dear. There come strangers up the hill. On that hillside, Providence Plantation. Thank you, we will fare better here. For us there is no welcome anywhere in this land. There comes a man from the town. Welcome, neighbors. Hurry not with that word. We have been welcomed elsewhere before we made ourselves known. At Boston we were jailed and banished. Why? Because ours is a different faith. And a dangerous one also the magistrates say. We are... Baptists. Baptists? Aye. Nor can anything you say or do to us swerve us from the true faith. Why should we swerve you? We have freedom of worship here at Providence. We persecute no one for the cause of conscience. Baptists, aye? Neighbor, I have been seeking truth all my life. Will you tell me about your creed? From New Amsterdam and from Old Europe. From another persecuted people tolerated in very few of the lands of the old world or the new, came a letter. New England will not have us. New Amsterdam permits us to stay but refuses to allow us our worship. I know it is a great thing to ask but can Rhode Island in its mercy find a little place for the ancient people of Israel? Back when the letter. I conceive it to be the duty of the civil magistrates to break down that superstitious wall of separation as to civil things between the Gentiles and the Jews and freely without their asking to make way for their free and peaceable habitation amongst us. But the greatest test of the principle of freedom of conscience came with the arrival of that denomination whose men took their hats off to no man and whose women walked abroad crying. Repent for the day of judgment is at hand. Welcome, neighbors. We are of the friends so-called Quakers. We've heard of you. Thee too mayest whip us and jail us and burn out our tongues but not that men can do can hold us from testifying. Repent for the day of judgment is at hand. Come ye out of the false churches. Let the inner light guide ye in all things. Not these, Roger. These would acknowledge not even elected authority to have yourself condemned their teachings. I hold your doctrines to be much in error and worse but by our laws you have full liberty to believe and preach so long as you keep the civil peace. God be with you, neighbors. It was not easy to break down old attitudes, old habits even among those who professed the new beliefs. In the second year of the founding in the whole house of Joshua Varian who had brought his wife down from Salem. I said, Jane, stay home from the services. But Joshua, I want to hear the preacher. I am a believer. I said, stay home with me. I cannot, Joshua. My conscience will not let me. Does your conscience let you disobey your husband? Let us see whose conscience will prevail. The freeholders of Providence sitting here as a court have heard the evidence and have seen the bruised body of the victim of your actions. For the past 12 months you have not attended any religious services and no one has molested you for it. You've had full liberty of conscience yet you have sought by force to restrain your wife's liberty of conscience. Neighbor Varian, the majority of this court have cast their vote to suspend your liberty of voting until such time as you shall agree not to break the covenant for freedom of conscience. The year has rolled on through harmony and dissension through hard times and good. Then when Roger Williams was an old man he came forward one day before his people. Well beloved neighbors and friends we have come a long way since that day when I with five men first stood on this hillside and looked out upon virgin wilderness. The wilderness has blossomed and the fruits thereof are sweet. I, we have had contentions and we shall have more. But in our colony of Rhode Island each man may own his own land. No man oppresses his brother. The people rule. The laws and functions of office are written in our covenant. Truly we may point out to others as we have written. All men may walk as their consciences persuade them every one in the name of his God. There's a letter for you. Thank you, dear. Roger. It's been a long time since I've seen that smile on your face. Who is the letter from? From the government of Massachusetts Bay. And what do they want with you now? Nay, nay, Mary. You do them wrong. We've come a long way, dear. Roger, what is that letter? They ask my help, Mary. Nay. Aye, it's the truth. They fear an alliance of the Wampanoag Indians and the Narragansets for war against them. They ask me to intercede to persuade my old friends the Narragansets not to join with the Wampanoags. I, uh, I must have some food packed, Mary, and a thick blanket. We have come a long way. Then they have ended your banishment. I know, Mary. The letter says nothing of that. They want my aid, not my companionship. I wonder... will they ever permit me to go back? April 30th. The banishment of Roger Williams from Massachusetts ended officially today. With a stroke of his pen, the governor of Massachusetts rescinded the decree of the Bay's general court, which in 1635 gave the outspoken radical of his day six weeks to get out of town. Well, what do you know? Well, what's the matter with that? The date, man, the date. Today is April 30th, 1936. It took them 301 years to pardon them. The NBC University of the Air has brought you chapter nine of the historical series We Came This Way. Next week, We Came This Way will present the story of Voltaire, a handbook containing background information with suggestions for further reading as now in publication. We shall be happy to send you at cost this valuable We Came This Way handbook, especially written for the current series. Send 25 cents to cover the cost of printing and mailing to We Came This Way, Post Office Box 30, Station J, New York 27, New York. Tonight's script was written by Bernard Rines and directed by Ira Avery. The original music is composed by Leo Kempinski and directed by Milton Catons. The parts of Roger and Mary Williams were played by Alexander Scorby and Charlotte Holland. Narrator was John W. Vander Cook. This is the National Broadcasting Company.