The Cornerstone
a brief life of John Murray for young people, by Irene Carrow Rees
XI. "The One Who Never Turned His Back"
"Simple duty hath no place for fear."
WHITTIER.
On December 14,1774, Mr. Murray again visited Gloucester. After his stormy encounters in Boston, the staunch faith and warm friendship of this little band of Rellyites was a divine blessing to him. He was persuaded to make Gloucester his permanent home but consented only when it was agreed that he should still be free to spend several months each year in missionary journeys. He lived happily with Mr. Sargent, an ardent admirer, and one of the influential men of the place, and would accept no salary, his simple needs being supplied as usual by his watchful friends. Every day the constantly increasing little company met, like the disciples of old, for prayer and praise.
"Here, I " wrote Mr. Murray, "my God grants me rest from my toils; here I have a taste of heaven.
For twenty years, till he removed to Boston in 1793, he lived at Gloucester, and it was the place where most of his pastoral labors were conducted.
These days of peace were but a breathing space before the next tempest. Gloucester was the first place in which he immediately announced his belief in final Redemption. He and his little band of workers were soon summoned before the church to give their reasons for absenting themselves f rom public worship. The usual result followed the investigation; Mr. Murray was no longer allowed to preach in the Baptist meeting house. Before long not only he, but seventeen influential people of the town, all his friends, were excommunicated.
The civil authorities also took action and he was summoned from bed at Mr. Sargent Is, where he bad been ill for some time, to answer to a new charge, conspiracy against the Colonies, the War of the Revolution being then in progress. The Committee of Safety chose to regard him as an English spy in the pay of Lord North. The accusation was not only absurd but particularly ungrateful and cruel.
In May, 1775, through his friendship with General Greene and General Varnum, he had been appointed chaplain to a Rhode Island brigade stationed at Jamaica Plain. When Washington took command of the army at Cambridge, the other chaplains, all Mr. Murray's bitter enemies, presented a petition requesting his removal on account of his "pernicious doctrines" which, they asserted, were corrupting the morals of the soldiers. General Washington's answer was to forward to General Greene an order appointing Mr. Murray chaplain to three of the Rhode Island brigades instead of one. The commission sent to Mr. Murray provided for a liberal salary. It was returned to General Washington with a polite note of thanks, and the request that he be allowed to retain his post as volunteer only.
On reading the letter Washington observed, with reference to the refusal of the money, "Mr. Murray is a young man now; he will live to be old and repentance will be the companion of his age." He was a false prophet; never once did Mr. Murray regret his failure to accumulate wealth. He served the army faithfully till a serious attack of bilious fever compelled his removal to Mr. Sargent's. His influence with the soldiers had been strong for good, even the officers remarking the change for the better in morals and manners.
Gloucester felt the effects of the war keenly, and no sooner was Mr. Murray able to leave the house than he undertook a journey in mid-winter to raise money to relieve the wants of the destitute women and children. General Washington and prominent army officers, as well as Mr. Murray's private friends, gave liberally, and the sum realized was a large one. It was wisely distributed by him and relieved much suffering.
This well-known service was ignored when, in February of the following year, 1777, the Committee of Safety brought its ridiculous charge. Failing to get him out of town as a heretic, his enemies undoubtedly thought to take advantage of the highstrung, patriotic temper of the people to work his ruin.
He was warned not to attend the meeting, as the few friends he had on the Committee could not be present. To shirk an encounter with a foe was never his policy, and, although almost too weak to stand, he obeyed the summons and answered readily all manner of insulting questions about his past life. For his army record, he proudly referred them to his friends, General Washington and General Greene. He defied any one to find an act or word during his seven years' residence in the colonies which was not loyal. The Committee well knew his record but cared nothing for facts.
Though it was a severe winter and the roads almost impassable, the chairman demanded that he leave town, saying that the Committee would not be responsible for the violence of a mob.
"Sir," said Mr. Murray, "I feel such a confidence of innocence here," I putting his hand on his heart, "that I know not what it is to fear. It is with perfect composure that I commit myself to God and the laws of the Commonwealth." He stood his ground manfully until his bodily weakness obliged him to go home.
There followed the darkest period of his life in the New World. Twice after that he received an order to leave town within five days. Mobs threatened him, stones were thrown at him in the streets, and as he traveled about churches were closed to him. Private houses were not large enough to accommodate his hearers and he held his meetings sometimes in theaters and circus tents. Barns were fitted up for service, and such meeting houses were common, especially in New Hampshire. "We felt ourselves highly accommodated," he said, "if we had a clean one."
An attempt was made to expel him from town as a vagrant, since he owned no property. Mr. Sargent promptly presented him with a corner of his garden, giving him a deed to the land, which made him a freeholder in Gloucester.
It was certainly not a serene life, nor one conducive to devout meditation that Mr. Murray now led. He was the captain of a church militant. His little company of Rellyites were the advance guard of liberal thought in the New World, and every man was a warrior, was obliged to be, however peaceful his inclinations.
Once when Mr. Sargent and he were sitting by the winter fire, they were startled by what they supposed was the roar of a rising tempest. As the sound grew louder, they could distinguish the hoots and the yells of the angry mob which came rushing down the main street of the little town and surrounded the house, threatening to ride Mr. Murray out of town or burn the house over his head. What diverted them from their purpose we are not told. Possibly it was his own magnetic personality.
As far back as his early life in England, Mr. Murray had evidenced the power to control the passions of men. Political riots were common at the time and, one night, in returning from a meeting, he got in the midst of a violent mob armed with sticks and stones and bent on the killing of an unpopular officer, as well as the destruction of certain public buildings. A messenger had been hastily dispatched to call the militia to disperse the rioters when Mr. Murray mounted a box and began " to address them. At first the deafening up roar drowned his voice, but little by little, he gained the attention of those about him and when the soldiers at last arrived, they found the crowd quietly dispersing. Then an old nobleman came forward and, grasp ing his hand, exclaimed, "Young man, I thank you. I do not know your name, but I bear testimony to your wonderful abilities. By your exertions this night you have saved much blood and treasure."
Throughout these dark Gloucester days, he was cheered by the stanch fidelity of his friends and his unwavering faith in the care of a loving God.
Mr. Murray was not the only one to suffer; Universalists everywhere bore their share of trial bravely. Conspicuous among the persecuted were Mr. Eddy and General Gridley. Mr. Eddy was an influential member of the Beneficent Congregational Church of Providence, still one of the most prominent churches in the city. He was suspected of inclining to Universalism and was tried for heresy. The string of epithets applied to this good man by his pastor could hardly be repeated in polite society. The trial resulted in excommunication, which was publicly carried out, the heretic being required to stand in the broad aisle of the church and to listen to the reading of his sentence and to an anathema giving him over to the buff etings of Satan. He bore all this with such remarkable dignity and meekness, though be was a man of much spirit, that certain members of the congregation repented their harshness and went to him privately to beg him to return to their communion.
"If," he said, "you will take me back as publicly as you have expelled me, I will come. "
This they refused to do, and he joined a small group of Universalists, which met together occasionally, though no society was established till 1831, a year after Mr. Eddy's death.
Richard Gridley, surveyor and civil engineer, was a Boston man. He had been a British soldier, commanding the artillery under Wolfe at the fall of Quebec, but at the breaking out of the war for Independence, he replied, in response to an inquiry from England as to his sympathies, "I shall fight for justice and my country." He planned the fortifications at Breed's Hill and himself trained the guns on the British, June 17, 1775. He also raised the breastworks at Dorchester Heights and was conspicuous throughout the war for his bravery and loyalty to the Colonies. At his furnace in Stoughton, Massachusetts, the part of the town now Canton, he made for the patriot army the first cannon and mortars ever cast in the country. In 1777, Washington ordered him to construct the fortifications of Cape Ann and protect the harbor at Gloucester. While there he attended the services of Mr. Murray and became a decided and enthusiastic Universalist. When the war was over and a great peace celebration was held in the meetinghouse at Stoughton, General Gridley was left out in the cold, uninvited and forced to remain at home, his conspicuous services to his country all ignored because of his liberal faith.