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Elder Palmer's Backsliding

When Rev. R. A. Davenport, pastor of the Chestnut Hill Baptist Church in Exeter, told his congregation at a "homecoming" service the strange story of Elder Gershom Palmer he softpedaled a bit on the high spots.

It's a colorful story, full of the flavor of its era. Nathaniel Hawthorne would have found it to his taste; Mary Wilkins Freeman could have made good copy of it. They would have discovered in it, too, a moral which is not altogether clear to this antiquarian. Readers may, if they like, frame it for themselves.

We confess to a distinct weakness for Exeter, that far-flung, sparsely populated township of lovely wooded hills and clear streams along which in places you may fish for miles without sight of a human habitation. Its 1314 inhabitants of today are in a large part descended from families which lived there when in 1820 the census revealed a population of 2581. It boasted 2500 souls when the first census was taken in 1790.

Exeter's prosperity was at the peak when Elder Gershom Palmer was pastor of the Exeter Baptist Church, predecessor of the Chestnut Hill Church. On every water power there was a factory making cotton and woolen cloth, yarns, bull rakes and wooden articles of many kinds.

The church stood then on Exeter Hill where it had been established in 1750. The first building was a crude affair as might have been expected; the second, built in 1816, had two tiers of windows, a gallery, separate doors for men and women, and by and large was a credit to the town.

Elder Palmer's fame as exhorter and religious leader lives in local tradition. He came to the church in 1806. In 1816, when the new church was finished, he conducted a revival which won 200 converts.

By 1825, under his direction, church membership had grown to the now almost incredible figure of 732. That was more than half the total population of Exeter today.

How any such number could be taken care of we don't pretend to know. The building's capacity, gallery and all, could not much have exceeded 200. Perhaps branch meetings were held in such remote sections as Woody Hill and Escoheag.

Elder Palmer's popularity was such that nobody thought of marrying without having him tie the knot. It happened that in the late winter of 1827 three weddings were set for the same day with the Elder engaged for all.

He officiated at the first two. As was the custom of the time, rum was served freely, and Elder Palmer, being a companionable sort and immensely popular, partook generously but not wisely.

He didn't get around to marry the third couple until the next day.

The bride and bridegroom were annoyed. Their parents demanded an explanation, and the Elder gave one.

He was on his way to the wedding, he said, when he came upon a man who had broken his leg. It seemed more important to him that he should stop and render assistance than that the wedding should be run off on schedule. So he stayed with the sufferer until it was too late to do any marrying.

Elder Palmer would appear to have been unpracticed in mendacity because in such a place as Exeter it was absurdly easy to establish the truth or falsity of his explanation. Who was the man? Where did he live? What was the pastor's condition after the second wedding party?

These questions were inevitable. It was inevitable also the story should out that the Elder got tight. The story spread that he had started for the third wedding in a wobbly state and had curled up beside the road somewhere to sleep off his liquor.

Nobody cared how much rum he had consumed, but that he should have lied was serious. There never had been such a scandal in the town before-perhaps there never has been one since to equal it. Everybody, whether within the fold or out of it, talked the matter over, some refusing to believe the pastor could do any wrong, others protesting he had disgraced his profession.

By April, 1827, a distinct falling off in church attendance was noticeable. Many who hitherto had been pillars said they could not sit under a preacher who had told a lie.

A church council was held, before which Elder Palmer was called, and repeated his explanation of the man with the broken leg. The members of the council voted that the charge against him had not been proved.

This did not reconcile the stay-a ways, so in June, 1828, a council of leading members from neighboring churches was called to advise with Exeter. There were 20 pastors and brethren representing eight Baptist churches of the Stonington Union Association in this solemn conclave. Elder Palmer still refused to retract and the council found against him in these words: "Resolved, That we consider the portion of the church of Exeter who now style themselves the church have upheld Elder Gershom Palmer in a palpable falsehood."

Despite this verdict Elder Palmer's supporters remained stanch and the Elder stayed on, sticking to his story. Church attendance continued to dwindle. Various other councils were held in efforts to heal the breach. A long time elapsed, however, before the props were finally pulled out from under the erring pastor.

The decision is entered in the yellowing record books of the church, now in possession of Horace J. Arnold, its clerk, dated Oct. 12, 1829, and signed by Christopher G. Greene, then clerk. It reads in part: "This may certify that Elder Gershom Palmer is excluded from the Baptist Church of Exeter for the sin of reporting a palpable falsehood, who being admonished to clear the cause of Christ has refused the authority of the church; consequently, "Resolved, To withdraw the hand of church fellowship from Elder Gershom Palmer until he returns to the Lord by repentance and to the church by confession."

That ended Elder Palmer with the Exeter Church. But it did not end his activity. Those who had been loyal for more than two years continued to support him, following his leadership to the founding of a new church at Liberty.

The rest, who had stayed away because they could not condone his "palpable falsehood," now became Exeter Church. It was about an even split. The parent church still had as many members as the building could hold, and a new place of worship burgeoned near the banks of the Queen's River, where now are deep woods and then were prosperous farms and small factories.

There must be a moral in the story, but you'll have to phrase it for yourself.

Original story by J. Earl Clauson, originally published in the Providence Evening Bulletin under the heading "These Plantations". Later collected into a book of the same name that was printed in 1937 by The Roger Williams Press (E. A. Johnson Company).