RHODE ISLAND; ROGER WILLIAMS AND ANNE HUTCHINSON.
On the 5th of February, 1631, the very ship which came like the herald
of God’s mercy to the famishing people, changing their solemn fast and
humiliation into a day of thanksgiving, brought with its other freight
“a young minister, godly and zealous, having precious gifts,” a better
freight even than bread to the famishing, but which at the same time
might be regarded as its type. This was Roger Williams, one of the
noblest spirits of an age which abounded in great men.
Roger Williams possessed one of those rarely-gifted minds which
perceives truth at a glance. Looking beyond the advancement of his age,
he stood forth as the firm advocate and prophet of that diviner
knowledge which is compassed by Christianity, but which the highest
Christian professors, except in very rare instances, comprehend only
piecemeal.
Like the rest of his suffering brethren, Roger Williams was a Puritan,
and fled to America to escape persecution. Unlike them, however, amid
the afflictions of persecution he had attained to a profound knowledge,
either through the grasp of a great intellect, or the single-mindedness
of a child-like spirit, both of which were portions of his character. He
saw that the office of civil magistrate was to restrain crime, not to
control opinion; to punish guilt, not to violate the freedom of the
human soul.
Arrived in Massachusetts, he found the churches there not free as the
gospel would make them; and great was the excitement produced by the
doctrines which he promulgated—“the ill-egg of toleration,” as it was
now termed. Nevertheless the people of Salem invited him to become their
minister, at which the court of Boston “marvelled,” and before long his
friends at Salem were required to give him up. He then withdrew to
Plymouth, whence after two years he was recalled to Salem by those who
could never forget his mild virtues and his great doctrines.
Controversy on controversy succeeded; the magistrates asserted their
laws of intolerance, insisted on the presence of every man at public
worship, in the very spirit of that intolerant and legislative religion
which had driven them from their native land. Williams stood forth as
the unflinching champion of religious liberty, of the sanctity of
opinion and the freedom of the human mind, and as the bold assailant of
soul-oppression, “the removal of which yoke,” said he, “will prove an
act of righteousness to the enslaved nations.” Besides these doctrines,
he so steadfastly maintained the original right of the Indians to their
land, that he even questioned the validity of any grant of their
territory from an English monarch to his subjects.
The teachings of this apostle of liberty were considered subversive of
all good government; the ministers in a body declared “any one worthy of
banishment” who should assert, as Williams had done, that magistrates
ought not to interfere even to stop a church from heresy, or that an
English royal grant was wanting in moral validity. A committee of
divines was sent to Salem “to deal with him and the church in a church
way,” and a tract of land to which the people of Salem laid claim was
withheld from them as a punishment. Williams, seeing his townspeople
thus suffering on his account, wrote a letter to all the churches of
which these magistrates were members, asking that they might be
admonished of their injustice. This was the finishing stroke to his
offending. The general court proceeded to disfranchise Salem until
apology should be made for the letter. All now yielded to the storm; not
a voice in Salem was raised in his behalf; even his wife reproached him
as an evil-doer. But Christ, his great master, had been deserted by all,
even by the beloved disciple. Williams could not forget this trial of
his prototype; and declared to the court before which he was arraigned
that “he was ready to be bound and banished, nay, even to die in New
England, rather than renounce the opinions which had dawned upon him in
the clearness of light.”
The court, influenced by Cotton, pronounced against him the sentence of
exile, but as winter was at hand, he was allowed to remain till spring.
This reprieve gave time for the affection of his friends to revive;
throngs collected to hear the beloved pastor so soon to be removed from
them. Twofold value seemed now to attach to his opinions; his views
began to spread; his enemies were alarmed; and it was resolved at once
to remove him on board a pinnace and ship him off to England. But he was
already gone. It was now the depth of winter; for fourteen weeks, he
says, he was sorely tossed in a bitter season, not knowing what bread or
bed meant; often in a stormy night he had neither food, fire, nor
company, nor better lodging than a hollow tree. But God was with him
through all, and cared for him; he was fed in the wilderness as the
prophet had been of old. The Indians were his friends; already while
residing at Plymouth he had become acquainted with their principal
sachems, and studied their language until he was able to converse with
them freely. Their simple hearts had opened to his apostolic virtues;
the cruel chiefs of the forest declared that they loved him as their
son.
And now, his flight being in the winter, he came to the Indians. Alone,
and on foot, he arrived at Seekonk on the Pawtucket river, and was
kindly received by Massasoit, the sachem. Seekonk lay, however, within
the Plymouth grant, and this was not to be his abiding place. God,
rather than man, willed not that he should remain here. In a short time
he received a letter from Winslow, the governor of Plymouth, an
excellent man, who was secretly his friend, “lovingly advising him,
since he was fallen into the edge of their bounds, to remove to the
other side of the water, where the country would be all free before
him.”
[Illustration: ROGER WILLIAMS’ DEPARTURE FROM SALEM.]
Williams received this friendly advice as the council of God, and
directed his course to Narragansett Bay. In the month of June, he, and
five of his friends who had followed him into exile, landed from a frail
Indian canoe on a spot near the mouth of the Moshassuck river. Tradition
has hallowed the spot as being near a spring of clear water, which
remains to this day. Here he took up his abode, calling the place
Providence, in grateful commemoration of God’s merciful providence to
him in his distress. He had landed within the territory of the
Narragansett Indians, the sachems of whom were the aged Canonicus and
his nephew, the bold Miantonomoh, who received him kindly and granted
him a settlement on their borders. Here for two years he lived,
labouring not alone as a preacher of the gospel, though his daily life
was a gospel sermon, but, as he himself says, “day and night, at home
and abroad, on the land and the water, at the hoe and the oar for
bread.” During this time he was joined by many others, and probably,
also, by his wife and family. In March, 1638, he received a free gift of
territory from the associate chiefs “in consideration,” say they, “of
the many kindnesses and services he hath continually done for us, we do
freely give unto him all that land” which is then primitively indicated
by the boundary of rivers and great hills, “with its grass and meadows
and fresh waters.”
The exile Williams, like Joseph of old, was now a prince among his
brethren, but instead of assuming in his own person lordship and
dominion, this simple-minded follower of Christ divided the land into
twelve parts, one of which he gave to each of the friends who were with
him, reserving for himself only an equal portion with them, his
allotment, containing two fields, which he had on his first coming
purchased from the Indians and planted with his own hands; one of which
fields he called “What-cheer,” which being words learned from the
English, was the first Indian salutation he received in the land of his
exile; and the other, “Saxifrax Hill.” He had not come thither to seek
his own aggrandisement, but, as he says, “his soul’s desire was to do
the nation good;” and now that God had given him an opportunity to test
and establish his principles, he firmly commenced his work, determining
to “found a commonwealth, where a pure democracy should prevail, and the
magistrate should rule only in civil things.” He desired, as he himself
says, that it might be a shelter for persons distressed for conscience;
and so it in truth became.
From whatever side the character of Roger Williams is viewed, it is
equally admirable; suffering from persecution, he himself never was a
persecutor, and no sentiment of revenge found a place in his heart; like
the Great Master, whose true disciple he was, he pitied and forgave his
enemies, and sought only to do them good: so much so, indeed, that we
shall presently find him endangering his own life to insure their
safety. “Many hearts,” it is related, “seeing the steadfast nobility of
his conduct, were touched with relentings.” Winslow, who had always been
his secret friend, visited him on one occasion, and being affected by
the poverty which surrounded him, left a piece of gold for the supply of
himself and family; even his enemies confessed “that he had the root of
the matter in him;” and his friends declare him to have been “one of the
most disinterested of men, a most pious and heavenly-minded soul.”
Thus was established the province of Rhode Island, which was confirmed
by free charter, granted by the parliament, in 1651, to Roger Williams
and his twelve friends under the title of “Providence Plantation, in the
Narragansett Bay in New England.” A still more liberal charter was
granted to them by Charles II., which empowered them to “rule
themselves, and such as should inhabit within their bounds, by such a
form of civil government as by the voluntary agreement of the greater
number should be found most serviceable, and to make suitable and
agreeable to the laws of England so far as the nation and constitution
of the place would admit.” In a letter from Roger Williams to Captain
John Mason we read, “our grant is crowned with the king’s extraordinary
favour to this colony, as being a banished one, in which his majesty
declared himself that he would experiment whether civil government could
consist with such liberty of conscience. This, his majesty’s grant,
startled his majesty’s high officers of state who were to view it, in
course, before the sealing, but fearing the lion’s roaring, they
crouched against their wills in obedience to his majesty’s pleasure.
“Some of yours, as I lately heard,” continues he, “told tales to the
Archbishop of Canterbury, that we are a profane people, and do not keep
the Sabbath, but some do plough, etc. But first you told him not how we
suffer freely all other persuasions, yea the Common Prayer, which you
yourselves will not suffer.”
But leaving Roger Williams established now at the head of a province, we
will return to the year after his banishment, when, as he says, “the
Lord drew the bow of the Pequod warriors against the country.” The
English had at this time extended themselves into Connecticut, which was
inhabited by Pequods, a fierce tribe which could muster at least 700
warriors. In 1634, the Pequods murdered the crew of a small trading
vessel on the Connecticut river, but pleading self-defence as their
excuse, and making submission, the government of Massachusetts passed
over the offence, and a league of amity was formed between them, the
Pequods being at the same time reconciled with their old enemies, the
Narragansetts. The Pequods, however, were no sooner relieved from fear
of the Narragansetts, than, naturally false and treacherous, they
resolved to attack the English, and accordingly murdered a man with
horrible circumstances of cruelty. This outrage and breach of faith were
only inadequately punished, and the Pequods, emboldened by what seemed
the feebleness of the English, determined on forming an alliance with
the Narragansetts and Mohegans for the complete extermination of the
English. This became known to Roger Williams, then a banished man among
the Narragansetts, and with a noble Christian spirit he informed his
persecutors of the dangers which impended. A universal terror prevailed,
and there was none to help them but Roger Williams. The governor and
council of Boston wrote beseeching him to use his speediest endeavours
with his friends, the Mohegans and Narragansetts, to prevent their
league of destruction with the bloody Pequods. “And the Lord,” says he,
“helped me to put my life into my hands;” and scarcely acquainting his
wife, he embarked, all alone, in a poor canoe, and through a violent
storm reached the dwelling of the sachem. Here he found the Pequod
ambassadors reeking as it seemed with blood; and for three days and
three nights the tardy business of mediation kept him among them whose
bloody knives he expected each night at his own throat. The
Narragansetts and Mohegans wavered, but God was with the messenger of
peace, and “wondrously preserved and helped him.” The terrible league
was broken, and the Narragansetts and Mohegans were induced by Williams
to become allies of the English. A braver, nobler action never was
performed. The banished man had heaped coals of fire on the heads of his
persecutors. After this generous act of interference on their behalf,
some of the leading men of Massachusetts wished that, at least, the
sentence of banishment against him should be revoked; but the fear of
his principles and his influence overcame the sense of gratitude, and he
remained a banished man.
The same year that Roger Williams was expelled from Massachusetts, Anne
Hutchinson, a woman of deep religious experience and great powers of
mind, arrived with her husband and family from England. Religious
discussion was at this time one of the occupations of the Puritans of
Boston; twice, or oftener, in the week, they met to canvass the sermons
of the preceding Sabbath, in order that the religious life might be kept
active. Men, however, were only admitted on these occasions, and this,
to the masculine intellect and large spirit of Anne Hutchinson, seemed
like doing the divine work only by halves. She therefore opened similar
meetings in her own house, to which her own sex were invited. Twice in
the week were these meetings held, and soon attracted great numbers of
the principal women of the place. Henry Vane, the once popular governor,
who had, by this time, been discovered to hold heretical opinions,
favoured her greatly; her views were supported by her brother-in-law,
John Wheelwright, a highly respected and learned minister, and even by
the orthodox Cotton. Nevertheless, it was soon noised abroad that this
eloquent and able woman was promulgating all kinds of new and
unthought-of heresies. Her views, it was said, threatened destruction to
church and state. The utmost excitement prevailed; sermons were
preached, public discussions were held, and finally a synod was
convened, which ended by banishing her and her friends. Vane, in the
meantime, had returned to England, and Cotton, afraid of the storm,
attached himself to the persecuting party.
Anne Hutchinson’s opinions were Antinomian; among other heretical
opinions which are charged upon her by Winthrop, are these—_that the
Sabbath is but as other days, and that there is no resurrection of the
body_: and as an instance of her hardened state, he records, that “after
she was excommunicated, her spirit, which seemed before to be somewhat
dejected, revived, and she gloried in her sufferings, saying, ‘that they
were the greatest happiness next to Christ that ever befell her.’” Noble
spirit this of the true martyr, which the persecutor never understands.
As in Roger Williams’s case, the sentence of banishment was pronounced
on her at the commencement of winter, and with a faint sentiment of
mercy, she was allowed to remain close prisoner in a private house till
the inclement season should be over. In the meantime, her husband and
others of her party left Boston to seek for a new place of settlement,
and finding one to their mind on the remote borders of the Plymouth
grant, applied for it; but, says Winthrop, “the magistrates knowing
their spirit, gave them a denial.”
Before the month of January was over, a warrant was sent to Anne
Hutchinson, to order her departure. In the meantime, those of her family
and friends who had set out to the south, intending to plant themselves
in Delaware Bay, had been welcomed on their journey by Roger Williams,
who induced them to remain in his neighbourhood; and by his influence,
Miantonomoh conferred on them the beautiful island of Aquetneck, called
by them, from an imagined resemblance to Rhodes, Rhode Island, in
Narragansett Bay, and in the immediate neighbourhood of the Providence
settlement. Here, says Winthrop, “Anne Hutchinson broached new heresies
every year.”
The enlightened historian of the present day,[2] reviewing the past in
the calm spirit of philosophy and Christianity, speaks thus: “The spirit
of the institutions established by this band of voluntary exiles—for the
number was considerable which followed this noble woman into
banishment—on the soil which they owed to the benevolence of the native,
was derived from natural justice: by a social compact, signed by all,
the government was based on the general consent; the forms of
administration were borrowed from the Jews. Coddington was elected
judge, and three elders were chosen assistants. The colony rested on the
principle of intellectual liberty. The settlement prospered, and in 1641
its constitution was framed. It was ordained therefore by the whole body
of freemen, ‘that the government be a democracy, or popular government,
viz., It is in the power of the body of freemen orderly assembled, or
the major part of them, to make or constitute just laws by which they
will be regulated, and to depute from among themselves such ministers as
will see them faithfully executed between man and man.’ It was further
ordained that _none be accounted a delinquent for doctrine_. The little
community was held together by affection and freedom of opinion. The
seal of the state was a sheaf of arrows, and the motto AMOR VINCIT
OMNIA. The same year a patent was obtained from England through their
friend, the now powerful Henry Vane.”
John Wheelwright, with other of Anne Hutchinson’s disciples, went to the
north, where he purchased, in the valley of the Piscataqua, a tract of
land from a celebrated Indian sorcerer, the chief of the Pennicook
Indians, and founded the town of Exeter.
Of the remarkable woman, the head of this intellectual movement, which
still survives in America, we have but little to relate, and that is sad
as the last act of a tragedy. Leaving the state from which she was
thrust out, she travelled by land through the wilderness to Providence,
and thence joined her family and friends on their island settlement.
Banishment had not, however, destroyed her influence in Massachusetts;
she continued to draw after her such numbers that the wise men of
Massachusetts suspected her of witchcraft. Her son and her son-in-law,
both preachers, who had been in Barbadoes, returning thence to Boston,
were heavily fined and imprisoned for preaching. Anne Hutchinson was now
a widow, and as not even Rhode Island seemed a refuge from persecution,
she and her family, the following year, removed still further south, to
the borders of the Dutch settlements. Unfortunately, the Indians were at
that time in a state of exasperation against the Dutch, and not
discriminating between nations, set fire to the house of Anne
Hutchinson, and, sorrowful to relate, she and all her family, with the
exception of one child, sixteen persons in number, perished at midnight
either by the flames or the cruel weapons of the Indians.