Roger Williams, by May Emery Hall—A Project Gutenberg eBook CHAPTER X THE CHARTER ON TRIAL Meanwhile, what of the charter itself which Roger Williams had gained at the expense of so much time and trouble? Had it succeeded in uniting the struggling settlements? Were they now a harmonious, happy family? Alas! No such miracle had occurred. In fact, two years and a half passed before any kind of union was brought about. Canonicus Bridge, Roger Williams Park, Providence, appropriately named after the Narragansett sachem who was the steadfast friend of Roger Williams. The Betsy Williams Cottage, Roger Williams Park, Providence. It is an old-fashioned red dwelling, well covered with vines in summer, not far from the statue of Roger Williams. The cottage is appropriately furnished with Colonial relics. Finally, in May, 1647, representatives from the different towns met at Portsmouth. The larger part of the colony, however, was present at this first General Assembly. Those persons from the mainland who attended paddled to their destination in canoes. In those days the water trip from Providence to Portsmouth was looked upon as quite an undertaking, though to-day a steamer could easily make the same journey in less than two hours. The delegates from Providence, including Roger Williams and his brother Robert, were bidden Godspeed by the town in words as gravely serious as might be used had the intended voyage been across the ocean: “We commit you unto the protection and direction of the Almighty, wishing you a comfortable voyage, a happy success, and a safe return unto us again.” At this first representative meeting of the colony, a simple form of government was decided upon. It was agreed that the affairs of the province should be managed by a president, four assistants and six commissioners from each town, or twenty-four in all. Roger Williams was not chosen first president, as we might suppose, but this may have been because he declined the honor. Surely the good and faithful man deserved a rest. He did, however, serve twice as an assistant and once as deputy-president under the first charter. The colonial body declared itself in favor of “a democratical form of government”—a truly startling novelty for the seventeenth century. Then a clear, simple code of laws was drawn up, far milder and more just than any then in existence. They provided that while burglary and theft were punishable crimes, still the penalty should not be too extreme for poor persons who stole because of hunger. Debtors having no goods or lands with which to settle their bills were not to be sent to prison “to lie languishing to no man’s advantage.” The destitute and infirm were to be provided for in all the towns. No person was to be required to take an out-and-out oath, his solemn word or testimony being considered just as binding. The laws concluded thus quaintly: “And otherwise than thus what is herein forbidden, all men may walk as their consciences persuade them, every one in the name of his God. And let the saints of the Most High walk in this colony without molestation in the name of Jehovah, their God, forever and ever.” Just how primitive was the life of these early settlers is shown in that section of the laws touching upon archery. It also gives a glimpse of the constant danger which surrounded the pioneers of Providence Plantations. “Forasmuch, as we are cast among the archers, and know not how soon we may be deprived of powder and shot, without which our guns will advantage us nothing; to the end also that we may come to outshoot these natives in their own bow; Be it enacted by the authority of this present Assembly, that that statute touching archery shall be revived and propagated throughout the whole colony; and that every person from the age of seventeen years to the age of seventy, that is not lame, debilitated in his body, or otherwise exempted by the colony, shall have a bow and four arrows, and shall use and exercise shooting; and every father having children shall provide for every man-child from the age of seven years, till he come to seventeen years, a bow and two arrows or shafts to induce them and to bring them up to shooting; and every son, servant, or master, thus appointed and ordered to have a bow and arrows, that shall be remiss and negligent in the observance hereof and shall be found to lack a bow and so many arrows for the space of a month together after the last of the fourth month, commonly called June, shall forfeit three shillings and four pence; the father shall pay for the son, the master for the servant, and deduct it out of his wages.” At this first assembly, an anchor (to which later was added the motto “Hope”) was chosen as the seal of the province. Appropriate emblem, indeed! Many a storm would the infant colony be called upon to battle with before being grounded firmly in good government. Never before had a group of people greater need of hope and courage than those who were trying out their “lively experiment.” A law was passed, too, forbidding the sale of firearms to the Indians under penalty of a heavy fine. Several years passed and still Providence Plantations failed to become the settled, united colony of Roger Williams’ hopes and dreams. It was a union in name only. As for the position of the founder himself, it was as if he were the head of an unruly school. The four disturbing classes, instead of acting together for the good of the school, were more intent on their own little concerns and differences. The people of Providence quarreled among themselves, while Providence, Newport, Portsmouth and Warwick quarreled with one another. It is true that certain inhabitants of Providence made an agreement that for the common good they would forget their jealousies and bickerings, but, unhappily, the very persons who signed the paper were the ones who had no need of such a pledge to begin with. The liberal, brotherly spirit of Roger Williams was plainly evident in their determination to let “love cover their differences in the grave of oblivion.” At last matters reached a crisis. William Coddington planned to detach the island of Rhode Island and the neighboring island of Conanicut from the rest of the colony and sailed for England early in 1649 to obtain a separate charter. And this even though he had been honored by being elected president of the province and owed his position in the colony largely to Roger Williams’ kindness and helpfulness. It looked very much as if Roger Williams’ work would have to be done all over again, especially as Coddington returned in two years with the new charter which made him governor of the two islands in the Bay for life. Besides, the neighboring colonies still had a covetous eye on their sister colony of whom they had always disapproved. Massachusetts still claimed Pawtuxet, Plymouth declared she owned the Island of Rhode Island, while poor Warwick had been tossed back and forth between the two very much like a baseball. Finally, Providence and Warwick had the good sense to unite and ask Roger Williams to go to England a second time to have the original charter confirmed. Portsmouth and Newport, with equally good sense, urged John Clarke, the good minister-physician of the latter town, likewise to appeal to the mother country to have the Coddington charter annulled. Roger Williams had to be urged twice to undertake the task. The care of his sizable family and lack of money probably had much to do with his first refusal. At length, however, he came to the conclusion that his duty to his fellow-colonists was of more importance than his own private affairs. The two towns promised to defray the expenses of the trip and to make up whatever was still owing for the former voyage. Even so, Roger Williams sold his trading-post at Narragansett in order to finance the venture. He found a purchaser in his neighbor, Richard Smith, who paid him fifty pounds in ready money for it. There is no indication that, on the part of the seller, this was an attempt to drive a sharp bargain—far from it. The business must have been worth far more than Roger Williams realized on it, even though it was a cash transaction. There was one thing more to be done—to “humbly pray Massachusetts that he might inoffensively and without molestation pass through her jurisdiction as a stranger for a night.” The request was grudgingly granted and, in company with the Reverend John Clarke, Roger Williams for the second time set his face toward England, in November, 1651.