The Pilgrim Chronicles

by Rod Gragg

  The true practice hereof, I have as a King oft found in my own person, though I thank God, never to my shame, having laid my count, ever to walk as in the eyes of the Almighty. . . . To come then particularly to the matter of my Book, there are two special great points, which (as I am informed) the malicious sort of men have detracted therein; and some of the honest sort have seemed a little to mistake: whereof the first and greatest is, that some sentences therein should seem to furnish grounds to men, to doubt of my sincerity in that Religion, which I have ever constantly professed; the other is, that in some parts thereof I should seem to nourish in my mind, a vindictive resolution against England, or at the least, some principals there. . . .

  Under King James, Anglican Archbishop Richard Bancroft directed a widespread purge of Puritan ministers from the Church of England, removing approximately three hundred from their pulpits.

  NATIONAL PORTRAIT GALLERY

  The first calamity (most grievous indeed) is grounded upon the sharp and bitter words that therein are used in the description of the humors of Puritans and rash-headed Preachers that think it their honor to contend with Kings, and perturb whole kingdoms. . . . [When] I speak of Puritans, it is only of their moral faults. . . . When they condemn the Law and sovereign authority, what exemplary punishment they deserve for the same.

  First then, as to the name of Puritans, I am not ignorant that the style thereof does properly belong only to that vile sect amongst the Anabaptists, called the Family of Love, because they think themselves only to be pure and in a manner without sin, the only true Church, and only worthy to be participant of the Sacraments, and all the rest of the world to be but abomination in the sight of God.

  Of this special sect I principally mean when I speak of Puritans; divers of them, as Browne, Penry and others, having at sundry times come . . . to sow their people amongst us. . . . I give this style to such brain-sick and headed Preachers their disciples and followers, as refusing to be called of that sect, yet participate too much with their humors, in maintaining the . . . contempt of the civil Magistrates, and in leaning to their own dreams and revelations; but particularly with this sect, in accounting all men profane that swear not to all their fantasies, in making for every particular question of the policy of the Church . . .

  Judge then, Christian Reader, if I wrong this sort of people. . . . It is only of this kind of men that in this book I write so sharply; and whom I wish my Son to punish in-case they refuse to obey the Law, and will not cease to stir up a rebellion. . . .

  Take heed therefore (my Son) to such Puritans, very pests in the Church, and commonwealth; whom no deserts can oblige; neither oaths or promises bind; breathing nothing but sedition and calamities—aspiring without measure, railing without reason, and making their own imaginations (without any warrant of the word) the square of their conscience. I protest before the great God, and since I am here as upon my Testament, it is no place for me to be in, that ye shall never find with any Highland or Border thieves greater ingratitude, and more lies and vile perjuries, then with these fanatic spirits. And suffer not the principals of them to brook your land, if you like to sit at rest: except you would keep them for trying your patience, as Socrates did an evil wife.

  “Hate no man more than a proud Puritan”

  And for preservation against their poison, entertain and advance the godly, learned, and modest men of the ministry, whom of (God be praised) there lacks not a sufficient number: and by their promotion to Bishops and Benefices . . . you shall not only banish their conceited party whereof I have spoken, and their other imaginary grounds, which can neither stand with the order of the Church, nor the peace of a commonwealth, and well ruled Monarchy, but also shall you reestablish the old institution of three estates in Parliament, which can no otherwise be done. . . . And to end my advice about the Church estate, cherish no man more than a good Pastor, hate no man more than a proud Puritan . . . [and] chain them with such bonds as may preserve that estate from creeping to corruption.5

  CHAPTER THREE

  “They Resolved to Get Over into Holland”

  It was a bomb built to kill a king—and its intended target was James I. Besides killing the king, the conspirators hoped to wipe out the English House of Lords—the upper chamber of Parliament—thereby overthrowing England’s government. Their goal was to restore a Catholic ruler to the English throne. The plot was developed by a cell of renegade Catholics led by Robert Catesby, an affluent nobleman who had suffered prolonged persecution for his faith. Detonation of the bomb was set for November 5, 1605, when King James would deliver the opening speech to Parliament in the House of Lords. With the king dead and Parliament in chaos, the conspirators would kidnap King James’s nine-year-old daughter, Princess Elizabeth, install her as a puppet ruler, raise her as a royal Catholic—and reinstate Catholicism as England’s officially mandated faith.

  To construct and detonate the bomb, Catesby had recruited a capable and fanatically committed triggerman named Guy Fawkes. A tall, bearded thirty-five-year-old professional soldier, Fawkes had left England as a young man to serve in the army of Catholic Spain. Despite the loss of religious freedom that had befallen them since Queen Elizabeth’s religious compromise, most English Catholics unquestionably would have been horrified at the assassination of their king. Not Catesby, Fawkes, and the other conspirators. Earlier attempts by Catholic radicals to assassinate King James and Queen Elizabeth had all failed, but the conspirators fervently believed theirs was well-planned enough to succeed.

  By renting a house adjacent to the English Parliament, the plotters gained access to this cellar beneath the House of Lords, which they packed with thirty-six barrels of gunpowder. They planned to detonate the mammoth bomb while King James was making his opening speech to Parliament.

  ILLUSTRATED HISTORY OF ENGLAND

  The plotters managed to rent property adjacent to the English Parliament in London and broke through a wall to reach the cellar beneath the House of Lords. There, Fawkes oversaw construction of a giant bomb consisting of thirty-six wooden barrels filled with gunpowder. It was enough explosives to blow up the House of Lords—and perhaps bring down the entire Parliament building and a large portion of the surrounding neighborhood. The conspiracy went forward as planned, and as the opening of Parliament neared, Fawkes readied the massive bomb. Shortly before the planned detonation, however, authorities were alerted by an anonymous letter, and found it. Some of the conspirators, including Catesby, were hunted down and killed, and Fawkes and others were tortured and executed for treason. The king, his daughter, Parliament, and the Church of England all survived without harm, but the assassination attempt further fueled the king’s royal suspicions toward all dissenters.1

  In 1605, a ring of renegade Catholics attempted to assassinate King James I by detonating a bomb beneath the English Parliament. The conspiracy was led by Robert Catesby, pictured second from far right, and Guy Fawkes, third from right

  WIKIMEDIA COMMONS

  “A Rumor Was Spread . . . That the King Was Stabbed . . . with a Poisoned Knife”

  After his attempted assassination, King James called for public calm and restraint against England’s Catholics. In private, however, he remained fearful, and royal suspicions of the nation’s Catholics increased, along with public hostility. English Separatists could only wonder if the royal displeasure toward Catholics would also descend on them. They had not plotted anyone’s assassination, manufactured bombs, or engaged in treason, but worshipping outside the Church of England was a criminal act—and the Separatists knew they were guilty of that. They also knew that King James had placed restrictions on the Scots Presbyterians when he ruled Scotland. Now, in the wake of the Gunpowder Plot, he appeared determined to do the same to England’s Puritans and Separatists. Opposing the Church of England and its hierarchy of bishops, the king believed, was the same as opposing him. “No bishop, no King,” he reportedly declared. Would King and Church now begin to view dissent from the Church of England
as treason—which was a capital crime?

  “A rumor was spread . . . that the King was stabbed . . . with a poisoned knife”

  The plotters intended to kidnap King James’s nine-year-old daughter Elizabeth, install her as a puppet ruler, raise her as a Catholic, and thus restore Catholicism as England’s official state denomination.

  WIKIMEDIA COMMONS

  Following the Gunpowder Plot, King James reportedly remained closeted in his royal chambers for a time, surrounded by none but his most trusted associates from Scotland. The entire nation was on edge, and the tension produced various rumors of successful assassinations, as reported in this period account:

  A rumor was spread (by what strange means unknown) that the King was stabbed at Okingham, twenty miles from London, where he was hunting, with a poisoned knife. The Court at Whitehall, the Parliament, and City took the alarm; mustering up their old tears, every man standing at gaze as if some new prodigy had seized them. Such a terror had this late monstrous intended mischief imprinted in the spirits of the people, that they took fire from every little train of rumor, and were ready to grapple with their own destruction before it came. . . .

  “Whilst the terror of this terrible news lasted, all sorts of people were sore frightened”

  The Lord Mayor gave forthwith precepts unto the warders to leave trained soldiers, and they to repair unto their known London captains. Sir W. Wade, lieutenant of the Tower, summoned his hamlets, drew his bridge, shut close his prisoners, charged [various] pieces of great ordnance, took all the keys from all inferior officers, being well prepared in all points to stand upon his guard. By reason for two hours space and more the news grew more and more, that not only the King was slain, but with him, in his defense, the Earl of Montgomery, Sir John Ramsay, and Sir James Hay, which treason, some said, was performed by English Jesuits, some by Scots in women’s apparel, and others said by Spaniards and Frenchmen. Most reports agreed that the King was stabbed with an envenomed knife, which bitter news was more grievous unto all sorts of people than can well be here expressed, great weeping and lamentation both in old and young, rich and poor, maids and wives.

  “So soon as certain news came from the King unto them, that he was well . . . they received new spirits”

  Whilst the terror of this terrible news lasted, all sorts of people were sore frightened, the court gates being aforesaid strongly kept and strongly guarded, the Queen, the Prince, and the Lords of the Counsel and sundry other Lords and Gentlemen [were] assembled at White Hall, being all exceedingly amazed and full of sorrow, both in their hearts and eyes. [But] so soon as certain news came from the King unto them, that he was well and on his way towards London, they received new spirits [as] partakers of this most happy news of his Majesty’s safety.2

  “Come Out of Babylon”

  The Making of a Pilgrim Leader

  John Robinson never saw America. Yet no one did more to put the Pilgrims there than he. In 1607, Robinson was acting as assistant pastor of an illegal Separatist congregation in the farming village of Scrooby, which was located in Nottinghamshire, about 150 miles north of London in the East Midlands. By then, cells of Separatists were firmly established in London and various regions of England. Most of the Separatists who would become known as the Pilgrims came from an area in England’s East Midlands along the borders of three counties—Lincolnshire, Yorkshire, and Nottinghamshire. There, villages such as Scrooby, Gainsborough, Austerfield, Babworth, North Wheatley, and Sturton-le-Steeple were home to many Separatists.

  John Robinson’s boyhood home was there, in the village of Sturton, where he was born to a family of modest income in 1575. Despite his lack of finances, he had attended Cambridge University, studying for the ministry and working his way through school as a “sizar”—a student who earned his keep by doing chores. Bright and disciplined, he excelled at Cambridge, and—under the influence of some of the leading Puritan thinkers of the day—he embraced Puritan theology and became committed to reform the Church of England. He earned undergraduate and graduate degrees at Cambridge, and then was invited to join the university faculty. He spent seven years on the Cambridge faculty, rising to the post of dean, then left the university to marry Bridget White, a farmer’s daughter from his hometown.

  The Pilgrim exodus to New England was greatly inspired by the Reverend John Robinson, depicted here in later life, but the pastor never made it to America.

  LIBRARY OF CONGRESS

  The couple moved to the city of Norwich, which was located on the Wensum River about 115 miles northeast of London. There, Robinson took up the post of assistant pastor at St. Andrew’s Church in Norwich. One of the largest cities in England, Norwich was an industrial center known for a growing population of Puritans at St. Andrew’s and elsewhere.

  Studious, empathetic, and gentle in nature, Robinson had a pastor’s heart and a preacher’s gift for exposing the Word from the pulpit. His assistant pastorate at St. Andrew’s appeared to offer a promising ministry for young Robinson—but it was not to be. In 1604, Archbishop Richard Bancroft launched his purge of Puritan preachers from the Church of England, ordering all pastors to swear allegiance to the Church’s new Book of Canons. Robinson disagreed with the Church’s hierarchical government, and believed submitting to it would violate his conscience. Along with hundreds of other Anglican pastors with Puritan leanings, Robinson was suspended from the ministry, and lost his position at St. Andrew’s Church.

  As a student at Cambridge University, John Robinson worshipped at times in the King’s College Chapel. Under the influence of Puritan professors at Cambridge, Robinson embraced Puritan theology.

  ILLUSTRATED NOTES ON ENGLISH CHURCH HISTORY

  It was his suspension from the ministry that apparently moved Robinson from Puritan to Separatist. In a heart-wrenching personal struggle, he prayerfully began to ask a life-changing question. Could he continue in good conscience to serve the Church of England if its leadership indeed held what he believed to be unbiblical positions on key issues? As with other Separatists, he realized that it was no small decision to leave the official government denomination. By now he and his wife had children, and separating from the Church was a criminal act that potentially placed the family in harm’s way. All of them could be arrested and imprisoned, and as a former minister in the Church, Robinson knew that he could suffer an even worse fate. Still, Robinson believed he had to “find satisfaction to my troubled heart,” as he put it—and he believed that he found direction in the New Testament book of Ephesians:

  Be ye therefore followers of God, as dear children. And walk in love, even as Christ has loved us. . . . And have no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness, but even reprove them rather.

  In obedience to Scripture, he finally concluded, he could no longer serve the Church of England. The Reverend John Robinson thus became a Separatist.

  As he explained his position to a Church official, leaving the Anglican Church, Robinson believed, was comparable to the Jews of the Old Testament escaping their captivity in Babylon:

  “Break asunder those chains of unrighteousness . . . and come out of Babylon”

  But let all them that fear the Lord and his righteous judgments, and . . . to whom the liberty purchased with the blood of Christ seems precious, break asunder those chains of unrighteousness, those bonds of Antichrist, and come out of Babylon, and plant their feet in those pleasant paths of the Lord, wherein they may make straight steps unto him, walking in that light, and liberty, which Christ hath dearly purchased for them . . . But for separation from a church rightly constituted . . . I do utterly disclaim it. For there is but one body, the church, and but one Lord, or head of that body, Christ, and whosoever separates from the body, the church, separates from the head, Christ, in that respect. (Ephesians 4:4)

  But this I hold, that if iniquity be committed in the church, and . . . the church will not reform . . . she makes it her own by imputation, and enwraps herself in the same guilt with the sinner . . . and no
w ceases to be any longer the true church of Christ. (Titus 1:16, Proverbs 21:27) No church now can . . . depart from the Lord by any transgression, and therein remain unrepentant after due conviction, and will not be reclaimed, it manifests unto us that God also has left it, and that, as the church by her sin hath separated from, and broken covenant with God, so God by leaving her in hardness of heart without repentance, has on his part broken and dissolved the covenant also. . . .

  As a young assistant pastor at St. Andrew’s Church in Norwich, John Robinson appeared to have a promising ministry in the Church of England ahead of him—until he was suspended by Church officials for his Puritan theology.

  THREE CENTURIES OF A CITY LIBRARY

  For what doth your church represent, . . . binding men to subscribe to the hierarchy, service-book, and ceremonies . . . tying men to a certain form of prayer and thanksgiving; excommunicating men for the refusal and omission of these and the like observances of their laws? And what do you but loose and unbind the conscience in tolerating, yea, approving, yea, making and ordaining unpreaching ministers, and in binding the people under both civil and ecclesiastical penalties to their ministrations in their own parishes, and from others? . . . Are not these matters of conscience . . . ?3