Roger Williams, by May Emery Hall—A Project Gutenberg eBook CHAPTER IX 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.