A great oak tree fell in the city of Hartford on August 21, 1856.
The night had been wild and stormy; in the early morning a
violent wind twisted and broke the hollow trunk about six feet
above the ground, and the old oak that had stood for centuries
was overthrown.
All day long people came to look at it as it lay on the ground.
Its wood was carefully preserved and souvenirs were made from it:
chairs, tables, boxes, picture-frames, wooden nutmegs, etc. One
section of the trunk is to-day in the possession of the
Connecticut Historical Society. Tradition says that this tree was
standing, tall and vigorous, when the first English settlers
reached Hartford and began to clear the land; that the Indians
came to them then, as they were felling trees, and begged them to
spare that one because it told them when to plant their corn.
"When its leaves are the size of a mouse's ears," they said,
"then is the time to put the seed in the ground."
At sunset, on the day when it fell, the bells of Hartford tolled
and flags draped in mourning were displayed on the gnarled and
broken trunk, for this tree was the Charter Oak, and its story is
bound up with the story of the Connecticut Colony.
About the year 1613, five little ships set sail from Holland on
voyages for discovery and trade in the New World. They were the
Little Fox, the Nightingale, the Tiger, and two called the
Fortune. The Tiger was under the command of a bold sailor named
Adriaen Block and he brought her across the ocean to New
Netherland, which is now New York. There was then a small Dutch
village of a few houses on Manhattan Island.
While she was anchored off the island, the Tiger took fire and
burned. But Block was not discouraged. He set to work at once and
built another boat--one of the first built in America. She was 40
feet, 6 inches long by 11 feet, 6 inches wide, and he called her
the Restless. In the summer of 1614 he sailed her up the East
River and out into Long Island Sound where no white man had ever
been before. He named both the Bast River and the Sound
"Hellegat," after a river in Holland, and a narrow passage in the
East River is still known as "Hell-Gate."
Block sailed along the low wooded shores of Connecticut, past the
mouth of the Housatonic, which he named the "River of the Red
Mountain," and reported it to be "about a bowshot wide," and by
and by he came to a much larger stream emptying into the Sound.
This was the Connecticut, and Block turned and sailed up the
river as far as the point where Hartford now stands. He noticed
that the tide did not flow far into this river and that the water
near its mouth was fresh, so he called it the "Fresh River."
When the Dutch in Manhattan heard of this new country which he
had discovered, they began a fur trade with the Indians who lived
there. In June, 1633, they bought from the Indians a strip of
land on the river, one Dutch mile in length by one third of a
mile in width, and they paid for it with "one piece of duffel
[that is, heavy cloth] twenty-seven ells long, six axes, six
kettles, eighteen knives, one sword-blade, one pair of shears,
some toys and a musket." On this land, which is now in the city
of Hartford, the first block-house in Connecticut was built and
was called the "House of Hope." Although two small cannon were
mounted upon it the Dutch said the place should be a peaceful
trading-post only and free to all Indians who came in peace.
Very soon after this little Dutch fort of the House of Hope was
finished, Lieutenant William Holmes, from the Plymouth Colony,
sailed up the river, and he and his men carried with them on
their boat a frame house all ready to put together. The Dutch
challenged the Plymouth boat as it passed their fort, but Holmes
paid no attention. He had been told by the Governor of Plymouth
to go up the river and he went, and at the mouth of the
Farmington, where Windsor is to-day, he set up the first frame
house in Connecticut and surrounded it with a palisade for
protection.
Other Englishmen from Massachusetts Bay, hearing of these new
fertile lands and of friendly Indians and a profitable fur trade,
came overland, making their way through the wilderness. By and by
their numbers were so great that the Dutch were crowded out and
driven away and Connecticut was settled by the English.
One of the most interesting parties of settlers who came from
Massachusetts to Hartford was "Mr. Hooker's company." Thomas
Hooker, the minister in Cambridge, led one hundred members of his
church overland to new homes in Connecticut in June, 1636. These
people had come from England a few years before, hoping to find
religious and political freedom in America, and, after a short
stay in the Massachusetts Bay Colony, they decided to remove to
Connecticut. Their journey was made in warm weather, under sunny
skies, with birds singing in the green woods. They traveled
slowly, for there were women and little children with them, old
people too, and some who were sick. Mrs. Hooker was carried all
the way in a litter. They followed a path toward the west which
by that time had probably become a well-marked trail. Part of it,
no doubt, led through deep forests. Sometimes they passed Indian
villages. Sometimes they forded streams. They drove with them a
herd of one hundred and sixty cattle, letting them graze by the
way. They had wagons and tents, and at night they camped, made
fires, and milked the cows. There were berries to be picked along
the edges of the meadows and clear springs to drink from, and the
two weeks' journey must have been one long picnic to the
children.
When "Hooker's company" arrived on the banks of the Connecticut
River, three little English settlements had already been made
there. They were soon named Hartford, Windsor, and We(a)thersfield.
These three settlements were the beginning of the Connecticut Colony.
At first the people were under the government of Massachusetts
because Massachusetts thought they were still within her borders.
But before long it became necessary for them to organize a
government of their own. They had brought no patent, or charter,
with them from England, and so, finding themselves alone in the
wilderness, separated by many long miles of forests from
Massachusetts Bay, they determined to arrange their own affairs
without reference to any outside authority. They set up a
government on May 1, 1637, and the next year, under the
leadership of such men as Thomas Hooker, John Haynes, who had
once been Governor of Massachusetts Bay, and Roger Ludlow, who
had had some legal training, this government, made up of deputies
from each of the three little settlements, drafted eleven
"Fundamental Orders." These "Fundamental Orders" were not a
written constitution, but a series of laws very much like those
of the colonies of Plymouth and Massachusetts Bay. There is a
tradition that they were read to the people and adopted by them
in the Hartford Meetihg-House on January 14, 1639.
Connecticut continued under this form of government, which she
had decided upon for herself, for more than twenty years--until
after the civil war in England was over. Then, when royalty was
restored and Charles the Second became king, in 1660, the people
feared that they might lose something of the independence they
had learned to love and value, and they sent their governor, John
Winthrop, to England to get from the king a charter to confirm
their "privileges and liberties."
Winthrop was a man who had had a university education in England
and the advantages of travel on the continent of Europe. He had a
good presence and courteous manners. Best of all, he had powerful
friends at court. There is a story that in an audience with the
king he returned to him a ring which the king's father, Charles
the First, had given to Winthrop's grandfather, and that the king
was so pleased with this that he was willing to sign the charter
Winthrop asked for. Whether this is true or not, the king did
sign one of the most liberal charters granted to any colony in
America. It gave the Connecticut people power to elect their own
governor and to make their own laws. This is the famous charter
which is said to have been hidden later in the Charter Oak Tree.
Two copies were made of it, and one of these Governor Winthrop
sent home, September, 1662, in an odd-shaped, leather-covered
box. This box, which is lined with sheets from an old history of
King Charles the First and has a compartment at one side that
once held the royal seal of green wax attached to the charter,
can be seen to-day in the rooms of the Connecticut Historical
Society.
When the people understood what a good charter they had received
they were greatly pleased. The record of the General Assembly for
October 9, 1662, says, "The Patent or Charter was this day
publickly read to the Freemen [that is, the voters] and declared
to belong to them and to their successors"; and October 29 was
appointed a "Thanksgiving Day particularly for the great success
God hath given to the endeavors of our Honored Governor in
obtaining our Charter of His Majesty our Sovereign." Samuel
Wyllys, in front of whose home stood the oak tree which was
afterward to become known as the "Charter Oak," was appointed one
of the first keepers of the charter.
For about a quarter of a century the government of Connecticut
was carried on under the charter. Then King Charles the Second
died, and his brother, the Duke of York, became king. The
advisers of the new king, James the Second, wished to unite all
the little scattered New England colonies under one strong
government which should be able to resist not only Indian
attacks, but also attacks from the French on the north. So in
1686, James sent over Sir Edmund Andros, who had once been
Governor of New York, with a commission as Governor of the
Dominion of New England. It was the duty of Andros to take over
the separate governments of the different colonies and to demand
the surrender of their charters.
But the people of New England did not like the new policy. Each
colony wished to preserve its independence; each wished to be
left entirely free to manage its own affairs, yet each expected
help from England against its enemies. England, on the other
hand, felt that the isolation of these small colonies, their
jealousy of one another and their frequent quarrels, were a
source of weakness, and that a single strong government was
necessary to preserve order, to encourage trade, and to secure
defense. The plan of union, however, as has been said, was
greatly disliked by the colonies, and Connecticut sent a petition
to the king praying that she might keep her privileges and her
charter, and meanwhile she put off submission to the new governor
as long as possible.
At last, however, Sir Edmund Andros wrote from Boston to Governor
Treat of Connecticut that he would be "at Hartford about the end
of the next week." This was on October 22, 1687. He left Boston
on the 26th. A record written at that time says, "His Excellency
with sundry of the Council, Justices and other gentlemen, four
Blue Coats, two trumpeters, 15 or 20 Red Coats, with small Guns
and short Lances in the tops of them, set forth in order to go to
Connecticut to assume the government of that place." He reached
Hartford on the 31st, having crossed the Connecticut River by the
ferry at Wethersfield. "The troop of horse of that county
conducted him honorably from the ferry through Wethersfield up to
Hartford, where the train-bands of divers towns united to pay
their respects at his coming" and to escort him to the tavern.
Governor Andros had come from Norwich since morning, a forty-mile
ride over rough roads and across streams without bridges or
ferries, and it was late when he arrived. The fall days were
short and probably candles were already lighted in the court
chamber where the Assembly was in session. The Connecticut
magistrates knew something of Sir Edmund Andros. Twelve years
before, while he was Governor of New York, he had appeared at
Saybrook and demanded the surrender of the fort and town by order
of the Duke of York who claimed part of Connecticut under his
patent. The claim was not made good, for Captain Bull, who
commanded at Saybrook, raised the king's colors over the fort and
forbade the reading of the duke's patent, and Andros, not wishing
to use force and pleased with this bold action although it was
against himself, sailed away. Now, however, the Duke of York had
become King of England with a new policy for the colonies, and
Andros was obeying the king's orders.
He was a soldier who had served with distinction in the army and
had held responsible positions. He was also a man used to courts
as well as to camps, for as a boy he had been a page in the
king's household and later was attached to the king's service. He
must have presented a contrast in appearance and manner to the
Connecticut magistrates who so anxiously awaited his coming.
When he entered the room he took the governor's seat and ordered
the king's commission to be read, which appointed him governor of
all New England. He then declared the old government to be
dissolved and asked that the charter under which it had been
carried on should be given up to him. The Assembly was obliged to
recognize his authority and to accept the new government; but a
story of that famous meeting has been handed down in Connecticut
from one generation to another telling how the people contrived
to keep their charter, the document they loved because it
guaranteed their freedom.
"The Assembly sat late that night," says the story, "and the
debate was long." When Sir Edmund Andros asked for the charter it
was brought in and laid on the table. Then Robert Treat, who had
been Governor of Connecticut, rose and began a speech. He told of
the great expense and hardship the people had endured in planting
the colony, of the blood and treasure they had expended in
defending it against "savages and foreigners," and said it was
"like giving up life now, to surrender the patent and privileges
so dearly bought and so long enjoyed." Suddenly, while he was
speaking, all the candles went out. There was a moment of
confusion; then some one brought a tinder-box and flint and the
candles were relighted. The room was unchanged; the same number
of people were there; but the table where the charter had lain
was empty, for in that moment of darkness the charter had
disappeared.
No one knew who had taken it. No one could find it. No one saw
the candles blown out. Was it done on purpose, or did a door or a
window fly open and a gust of the night wind put them out? It
chanced that the night was Allhallowe'en, when the old tales say
that the witches and fairies and imps are abroad and busy. Were
any of them busy that night with Connecticut's charter?
"Two men in the room, John Talcott and Nathaniel Stanley, took
the charter when the lights were out." So said Governor Roger
Wolcott long afterward. He was a boy nine years old at the time
and had often heard the story. But these two men never left the
room; they were members of the Assembly; they could not carry off
the charter. However, Major Talcott had a son-in-law, Joseph
Wadsworth, and he was waiting outside,--so says another story.
Wadsworth was young and daring. The charter was passed out to him
and he hid it under his cloak and made his way swiftly through
the crowd that had gathered around the tavern and through the
dim, deserted streets beyond, to where an old oak tree grew in
front of the Wyllys house. This tree had a hollow in its trunk
and Wadsworth slipped the charter into this safe hiding-place and
left it there. Houses might be searched, but no one would think
of looking for a missing paper in the hidden heart of a hollow
oak. And because the old tree proved a good guardian and gave
shelter in a time of trouble to Connecticut's charter it was
known and honored later as the Charter Oak.
[Illustration: WADSWORTH HIDING THE CHARTER
From a bas-relief on the State Capitol, Hartford, Conn.]
We are not told what was said or done in the court chamber after
the charter disappeared. The stories of that night are full of
mystery and contradiction. Perhaps, after all, no very serious
search was made for it. Perhaps its loss brought about a
compromise between the two parties. For Governor Andros had
already gained his object; he had taken over the government of
Connecticut, and the people had saved their pride because they
had not surrendered their charter.
The charter lay hidden for two years; not all that time in the
oak tree, of course, but in some other safe place. One tradition
says it was kept for a while in Guilford in the house of Andrew
Leete. At the end of two years there was a revolution in England,
and William and Mary came to the English throne. Then the charter
was taken out of its hiding-place--wherever that was--and
government was at once resumed under the same old patent which
had disappeared so mysteriously on that famous Allhallowe'en
night.
In the Memorial Hall of the State Library at Hartford, under a
glass shield, in a fireproof compartment built into the end wall
of the room, there hangs to-day one of the two original copies of
the Connecticut Charter. It is in a good state of preservation,
its lettering is clear and distinct, and so is the portrait
engraved upon it of King Charles the Second who gave it to
Governor John Winthrop. A part of its present frame is made from
the wood of the Charter Oak. The other copy, that is, what
remains of it, can be seen in the box which is owned by the
Historical Society.
When, after the Revolutionary War, the Colony of Connecticut
became the State of Connecticut, the charter of the colony was
adopted without alteration as the State Constitution. No change
was made in it until 1818.
The old oak tree, known to Indian legend and better known in
Connecticut's story, lived, honored and protected, until its fall
in the great storm of August 21, 1856.