NARRAGANSETT DAYS
While Roger Williams was absent in England, an event occurred at home
which must have sorely grieved his kindly heart when he heard of
it. This was the death of his faithful friend and ally, the sachem
Miantonomo. Their friendship, as well as that between Roger Williams
and Miantonomo’s uncle, Canonicus, forms one of the most interesting
chapters in the life of our hero. Brave, dignified, upright, true,
Miantonomo could give many a church elder of his time a lesson in honor
and sincerity. He deserved a far better fate at their hands than he
received.
Ever since the Pequot War, there had been trouble between the Mohegans
and the Narragansetts. Uncas, the powerful sachem of the former tribe,
was Miantonomo’s deadly rival. When, therefore, war broke out between
him and an ally of Miantonomo, the Narragansett sachem took part in
the struggle. With a force of about a thousand men, which greatly
outnumbered the Connecticut Indians, he took Uncas completely by
surprise. Unhappily, Miantonomo was hindered by a heavy armor that
had been loaned him and this, together with the sudden fury of Uncas’
assault, cost him the day. He was taken captive to Hartford, after
proudly refusing to plead for his life.
When the commissioners of the United Colonies next met, his case was
put in their hands. What should be done with the silent, haughty
prisoner? Should he be condemned to death or receive a lighter
punishment or--best of all--be set free? Whatever Miantonomo’s faults,
he had always kept faith with his white allies and, remembering his
treaty at the time of the Pequot War, had even asked permission of
Massachusetts before attacking Uncas. The United Colonies hesitated. At
length they shifted the responsibility to certain prominent ministers
of the gospel. Surely they would be lenient. Without question they
would grant him life and freedom. _Death!_ With one voice they
pronounced the awful sentence.
It is not difficult to imagine the savage joy with which Uncas received
his hated foe back again. As Miantonomo was led forth from Hartford,
one of Uncas’ men stole up behind him and felled him to the ground
with a single blow of a hatchet. This heartless murder--for it can be
called nothing less--will always remain a dark blot on the history of
early New England. If only Roger Williams had been at home! No doubt
the gloomy sachem said it to himself more than once with childlike
yearning. To-day, nearly three hundred years after the tragedy, we echo
sadly, “If only Roger Williams had been at home!”
The Narragansetts did not soon overlook the cruel death of their
favorite chief. They meditated revenge--deep, thorough revenge. They
would have the head of Uncas, no matter what Massachusetts and the
other colonies might say. Such was the state of affairs when Roger
Williams returned from England. The Narragansetts actually commenced
hostilities against the Mohegans and threatened to carry the war
against the white colonists as well, except those of Providence and
Rhode Island, as the island of Aquidneck was now called.
Roger Williams lost no time in doing his utmost to quench “the flames
of war raging next door” to him. He sent word of the plans of the
Indians to a meeting of the commissioners of the United Colonies held
at Boston. In consequence of this, Massachusetts decided to take up
arms against the revengeful Narragansetts. Their sachem, Pessicus,
Miantonomo’s brother, then lost some of his former bravery. He, like
Massachusetts, depended upon Roger Williams to get him out of his
difficulties. He had the same unquestioning confidence in the friend
of his tribe as had Miantonomo before him. The result of the whole
business was that peace was arranged and the Narragansetts pledged
Massachusetts two thousand fathom of wampum. A treaty was concluded
which patched up the differences between the two Indian tribes and
perhaps prevented, for a second time, a widespread massacre of the
whites. The credit was entirely due to Roger Williams.
But to return to the personal affairs of the great peace-maker. We
must not suppose that all this time he was on the road to riches. At
no time in his career does he seem to have had an abundance of worldly
goods. He was obliged to work in the open, at hard manual labor, to
earn a living for himself and those dependent on him. Now, upon his
return from England, he found himself poorer than ever. His family
numbered six children and it was a big problem to clothe and feed them
properly. Their needs probably determined his next step--his removal
from Providence to Cawcawmquissick or Narragansett, some twenty miles
down the Bay, where he established a trading-post.
The location had its advantages. It was convenient for hunters and
accessible to Newport, at which port furs could be shipped to England
and needed supplies be received in return. Here, in the heart of the
Narragansett country, Roger Williams passed six busy years of his life,
his business yielding him one hundred pounds annually. He planted and
harvested his crops, continued to serve as mediator between the natives
and the colonists, and to take an active part in the affairs of the
colony.
He found at Narragansett a most congenial neighbor in the person of
Richard Smith, a prosperous trader and the owner of a large estate.
A fugitive from English persecution, he had resided for a time in
Plymouth territory, and then, for the sake of a still more liberal
atmosphere, moved to the Narragansett Bay region. His was the first
English house in that section, built a few years after the settlement
of Providence. Mrs. Smith was the soul of courtesy and hospitality and
the Williams family was fortunate in having her and her good husband
within neighborly distance.
That Roger Williams, too, was the best of neighbors, we have abundant
proof. No kindly service was too small for him to undertake if he
could thereby help those about him, whether English or Indian. Now he
busied himself trying to find the stray cattle of a friend, again he
gave his house over to Massachusetts soldiers who had come to collect
the wampum debt from the Narragansetts. The savages were continually
making excuses to Roger Williams for their delay in settling the heavy
account. Many of these were genuine enough, no doubt. He listened to
the grievances of both sides and, as usual, poured oil on the troubled
waters.
To the Narragansetts, he was friend, peace-maker, adviser, physician.
They served in his household, for the early records of the province
show that he was granted “leave to suffer a native, his hired household
servant, to kill fowl for him in his piece at Narragansett about his
house.” Their bodily ailments were ever a source of care and anxiety to
him. Though Providence Plantations was a temperate colony, yet Roger
Williams was allowed to administer “a little wine or strong water”
to the red men in their illnesses. “I might have gained thousands by
that trade,” he once said, “but God hath graciously given me rather to
choose a dry morsel.” When in need of greater medical skill than his
own, he wrote his friend, John Winthrop the younger, of Connecticut,
for medicine and a “drawing plaster,” adding generously, “if the charge
rise to one or two crowns, I shall thankfully send it.”
The lack of good physicians was still sorely felt in the colony. When
the second daughter of Roger Williams became ill, he again asked Mr.
Winthrop’s advice--this time, as to the best doctor in Massachusetts.
As late as 1660, however, Roger Williams resorted to simple
remedies--of necessity, very likely--instead of consulting a doctor.
When his son Joseph “was troubled with a spice of an epilepsy,” he
wrote, “We used some remedies, but it hath pleased God, by his taking
of tobacco, perfectly, as we hope, to cure him.”
Correspondence and neighborly interchange of courtesies were kept up
for years between the Williams family and that of John Winthrop, Jr.
The affection and kindliness of the former governor of Massachusetts
for his banished friend descended to his son. “Your loving lines in
this cold, dead season”--thus began one of Roger Williams’ letters
to him--“were as a cup of your Connecticut cider.” Once Mrs. Williams
sent Mrs. Winthrop a couple of papers of pins, as this simple necessity
appeared to be scarce in Connecticut. Her husband added the suggestion
that if Mrs. Winthrop herself did not need them, they might “pleasure a
neighbor.” Writing paper seemed to be as scarce in Providence as pins
were in Connecticut. One letter of Roger Williams was written on the
blank side of an envelope addressed to himself by Winthrop. He crossed
out his own name and wrote that of his correspondent in blacker ink.
The monotony and hard work of the Narragansett existence were enlivened
now and then by the loan of a book. In this way, Roger Williams kept in
touch with the latest thought in England. He eagerly read all volumes
that came his way bearing upon religious subjects, but at one time
he expressed an earnest desire for a geography. In turn, he supplied
his friends with books from his own limited library. We are sorry to
say they were not always returned promptly. Thus he sent urgent word
to Connecticut for Winthrop to recover one of these books which an
Englishman of Long Island had borrowed.
During Roger Williams’ residence at Narragansett, the aged chieftain
Canonicus died. Honorable and just in his dealings with the colonists,
always more inclined toward peace than war, he stands out in history as
one of the wisest and best of New England Indians. He picked out Roger
Williams as the object of his special favor. Despite extreme age, he
had laid out the grounds of his neighbor’s trading-house with his own
hands. The two men had the deepest respect and love for each other.
Nearing his end, the Narragansett chieftain sent for Roger Williams.
He had a dying request to make--that he might be buried in the “cloth
of free gift” that was one of many tokens of friendship from his great
white friend. “So he was,” recorded Roger Williams simply. Thus the
“prudent and peaceable prince” was laid to rest with his fathers.
One other event marked Roger Williams’ sojourn at Narragansett. A day
came when exciting news spread like wildfire throughout the colony.
Gold had been found--rich, precious gold--yes, and silver, too--on
the island of Rhode Island. So the word went round. What a future for
the poor, struggling little colony! Roger Williams, with the others,
believed that a mine of wealth was in their midst and wrote in one of
his letters that the ore had been tested and found genuine. The arms
of England and of the Lord High Admiral were posted over the mine and
nobody allowed to take possession. Unfortunately, the golden dream
soon changed to drab reality. A more careful test showed that what was
believed to be gold was not gold at all. The disappointed dreamers,
sadder but wiser, returned to their plows to earn a living out of the
soil in the old humdrum but dependable way.
What about Roger Williams’ charter money all this time? The colony had
voted him the hundred pounds to pay the expenses of his trip across the
water, but he had not yet collected it all. After patiently waiting
several years, he gently hinted that Providence pay her share in goats!
“I have here (through God’s providence) convenience of improving
some goats; my request is, therefore, that if it may be without much
trouble, you would be pleased to order the payment of it in cattle of
that kind.”
Let us hope that the “cattle” duly reached Narragansett.