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A public-domain text about Boston, accessioned whole so the archive can quote it.","text_extract":"NYPL RESEARCH LIBRARIES \n\n\n3 3433 07954363 7 \n\n\nm \n\n\n*^.\"'. \n\n\nH'^ \n\n\ni*> \n\n\nJ . \n\n\n^. -,, \n\n\n>o \n\n\n1 ^^ ^ \n\n\n\\^ \n\n\n-fir.-'- • ■*• \n\n\nU^jLxJyil \n\n\n/ \n\n\n^ \n\n\nl^(^ \n\n\n-fip €|)arlrci francifi 3lUam6. \n\n\nRICHARD HENRY DANA. A Biography. With \n\nPortraits Revised Edition. 2 vols, crown 8vo, \n\ngilt top, ^4.00. \nTHREE EPISODES OF MASSACHUSETTS \n\nHISTORY. With two Maps. 2 vols, crown \n\n8vo, gilt top, $4.00. \n\nHOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & COMPANY, \nBoston and New York. \n\n\nuention Scanner: \nFoldout in Book! \n\n\nTHREE EPISODES OF \nMASSACHUSETTS HISTORY \n\n\nTHE SETTLEMENT OF BOSTON BAY \n\nTHE ANTINOMIAN CONTROVERSY \n\nA STUDY OF CHURCH AND TOWN GOVERNMENT \n\n\nBY \n\n\nCHARLES FRANCIS ADAMS \n\n\nVOLUME I \n\n\nBOSTON AND NEW YORK \n\nHOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY \n\n(grbe iaitcrsiDe ^Srcsj^, Cambriboc \n\n1892 \n\n\nCopyright, 1892, \nBy CHARLES FRANCIS ADAMS. \n\n.All rights reserved. \n\n\nSECOND EDITION. \n\n\nThe Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A. \n£21ectrotyped and Printed by H. O. Uougbton & Co. \n\n\nPREFACE. \n\n\nFifty years ago, the late Richard Frothingham \nundertook to write a history of Charlestown. The \nbook was published in numbers, which appeared with \nsufficient regularity until the narrative reached the \neventful 17th of June, 1775. The author then found \nhimself irresistibly drawTi from the smaller to the \nlarger field, and the History of the Siege of Boston \nsuperseded the History of Charlestown, which remains \nto this day unfinished. \n\nEighteen years ago, the town of Weymouth had \noccasion to celebrate the two hundred and fiftieth \nanniversary of its settlement, and I was invited to de- \nliver an historical address in commemoration of the \nevent. In preparing it, my attention was first drawn \nto the early settlement of the region about Boston \nBay ; the rest naturally followed, and step by step I \nfound myself drawn into a study of the history of the \ntown in which I lived. \n\nMy experience differed from Mr. Frothingham's in \nthis respect : his narrative enlarged into an episode \nof general history after a century and a half of local \nhistory had been covered ; my narrative began with \nan episode of general history, — an episode involving \n\n\nIV PREFACE. \n\nnot only mueli of that which is most interesting in the \nstory of the settlement of ^lassachusetts, but also the \nconcurrent course of events in England and Scot- \nland. \n\nWhen this part of the narrative was disposed of, \nit again immediately merged itself in another episode \nof general history, than which none connected with \nearly New England is more interesting or charac- \nteristic, — more dramatic, more curious or more \ncontested. As Sir Ferdinando Gorges and Thomas \nMorton passed off the little local stage. Mistress Anne \nHutchinson and young Sir Henry Vane appeared \nupon it. And so they played their parts. \n\nWhen they disappeared, it might naturally be sup- \nposed the slow, uneventful course of local narrative \nbegan. I did not find it so. On the contrary, the \nwhole succession of events in the quiet Massachu- \nsetts town, — from the 16th of September, 1639, when \na church was gathered, to the 11th of June, 1888, \nwhen the town voted to become a city, — the whole \nsuccession of these events, with no effort on my part, \n— indeed, I might almost say in spite of me, — seemed \nto lift itself up until it became sublimated and typi- \ncal. It was the story, not of a town, but of a people. \n\nProperly, therefore, and in a narrow sense, this book \nis a History of the Town of Quincy, in Massachusetts ; \nin reality, it is what its title says, \" Three Episodes \nof Massachusetts History.\" \n\nCHARLES FRANCIS ADAMS. \n\nBoston, February 1, 1892. \n\n\nCONTENTS OF VOL. I. \n\n\nTHE SETTLEMENT OF BOSTON BAY. \n\nCHAPTEB PAGE \n\nI. \" A New Found Golgotha \" 1 \n\nII. The Argonauts of Boston Bay . . . .13 \n\nIII. Squanto's Story 23 \n\nrV. Weston's \"Rube Fellows\" 45 \n\nV. The Wessagusset Hanging 69 \n\nVI. The Smoking Flax Blood-quenched . . .84 \nVII. Sir Ferdinando Gorges and the Council for New \n\nEngland 10.5 \n\nVIII. \"MoNS Parturiens\" 130 \n\nIX. The \"Ridiculus Mus \" 141 \n\nX. \" Thomas Morton op Clifford's Inn, Gent.\" . 162 \n\nXI. The May-pole of Merry-Mount .... 174 \n\nXII. Nantasket and Thomson's Island .... 183 \n\nXIII. Morton's Arrest 194 \n\nXIV. Boston founded 209 \n\nXV. The First Assault on King Charles' Charter 240 \n\nXVI. The Assault renewed 268 \n\nXVII. Exit Gorges 294 \n\nXVIII. The Fate of Sir Ferdinando's \"People and \n\nPlanters\" 321 \n\nXIX. Of the Subsequent Fortunes of Thomas Morton, \nWalter Bagnall and Edward Gibbons, once \nOF Merry-Mount 343 \n\nTHE ANTINOMIAN CONTROVERSY. \nI. The Rev. John Wheelwright of \" The Mount \" . 363 \n11. Mistress Anne Hutchinson 381 \n\n\nVI CONTENTS OF VOL. I. \n\nIII. A Quarrel in a Vestry 407 \n\nIV. A Province in a Turmoil 418 \n\nV. The Fast-day Sermon 432 \n\nVI. A Hou.se divided against Itself .... 451 \n\nVII. V^ ViCTis 468 \n\nVIII. The Trial of a Seventeenth-century Prophetess 483 \n\nIX. The Excommunication 50'J \n\n\nI. \n\nTHE SETTLEMENT OF BOSTON BAY, \n\n\nTHE SETTLEMENT OF BOSTON BAY. \n\n\nCHAPTER I. \n\n\nThroughout the years 1616 and 1617 the hand \nof death lay heavily on those then dwelling in the \neastern portions of what is now the State of Massa- \nchusetts. The savages died, as a writer of that time \nphrased it, \" like rotten sheep ; \" though what particu- \nlar form in modern nomenclature the fatal sickness \ntook has never been ascertained. Those who wrote \nabout it shortly after called it \" a plague,\" with which \nthe inhabitants were \" sore afflicted ; \" but in the sev- \nenteenth century the name '' plague \" was a conven- \nient one, popularly used in connection with any fatal \nepidemic the nature and symptoms of which physicians \ndid not understand.^ There is no reason to suppose \nthat the Massachusetts sickness bore any resemblance \nto the Black Death, which swept over Europe in the \nfourteenth century ; or to the Sweating Sickness, \nwhich ravaged England in the fifteenth. Neither \ncould it have been the plague of Florence and Lon- \n\n1 See Bradford, 102, 326 ; Johnson, Wonder [Vorking Providence, \n16 ; Young, Chron. of Pilg. 183, n. \n\n\n2 «/l NEW FOUND GOLGOTHA.\" 1616-17. \n\ndon, which Boccaccio and Defoe have described ; for \nthat seems to have been a disease which, wherever \ngenerated, was incident to the filth of mediaBval cities, \nand at home only in the midst of it. \n\nIt has been suggested that the epidemic of 1616-17 \nwas a visitation of yellow fever.^ This conjecture is \nbased chiefly on the description of one of its symptoms, \ngiven long afterwards by Indians, then old, but, at the \ntime of the sickness, young, who, speaking from dis- \ntant recollection, said that '' the bodies all over were \nexceeding yellow, both before they died and after- \nwards.\" 2 Yet that it was not the yellow fever is made \nclear by two facts : its ravages were confined, as a rule, \nto the aborigines, and did not extend to Europeans ; \nand, moreover, unlike most forms of plague, so called, \nas well as yellow fever, it was not stayed by frost. \nThis appeared in the course of the winter 1616-17. \nDuring that season a few Europeans were kept on the \ncoast of Maine. The cold they found intense ; but, \nthough they \" lay in the cabins with those people that \ndied, some more, some less mightily, not one of them \never felt their heads to ache while they stayed there.\" ^ \nAnd again, when in 1634 a similar mortality befell \nthe Indians of the Connecticut, a few Dutch from \nNew York, who had found their way into those parts \nto trade, and were trying to pass the winter there, \nalmost starved \"before they could get away for ice \nand snow.\" ^ Clearly, therefore, whatever the disease \nmay have been, it was not yellow fever. \n\nOther authorities have, upon the whole, concluded \nthat it was an epidemic of smaU-pox.^ But this could \n\n1 Barry, i. 25. ^ m. Mass. Hist. Coll. vi. 57. \n\n2 I. Mass. Hist. Coll. i. 148. ^ Bradford, 325. \n\n^ Dr. Holmes in the Mass. Hist. So. Lowell Inst. Lectures, 1869, \n\n\n1616-17. ''AN INFECTIOUS FEVER.'' 3 \n\nhardly have been the case. Small-pox was a disease \nwith which all Englishmen of the seventeenth cen- \ntury had a terrible familiarity. Probably one face \nin four they laid their eyes on was seamed and pitted \nwith pock-marks. They knew its every symptom. \nThey were themselves liable to it. Yet Richard Vines \nand his companions, though they \" lay in the Cabbins \nwith those People that dyed,\" ^ neither had the disease \nthemselves nor described it as small-pox. Thomas \nDermer, also, a captain who sailed along the coast in \n1619-20, and who must have recognized a pock-mark \nas soon as he saw it, spoke of the disease as \" the \nplague ; \" though, wrote he, \" we might perceive the \nsores of some that had escaped, who described the \nspots of such as usually die.\" ^ Nor is this all the evi- \ndence against the small-pox hypothesis. When the \ndisease raged on the Connecticut, in 1634, it also \nmade its appearance at Plymouth, sweeping away \n\" many of the Indians from all the places near ad- \njoining ; \" and now it attacked the Europeans also, \nso that Bradford described it as \" an infectious fever, \nof which many fell very sick, and upwards of twenty \npersons died, men and women, besides children.\" ^ \nAmong these was Deacon Samuel Fuller, the first \nNew England physician, who had all his mature life \nbeen tending the sick. Dr. Fuller could hardly have \nseen the Indians dying of \" an infectious fever,\" and \nthen have died of it himself among his dying neigh- \nbors, and never have identified the malady as small- \npox, if it had been small-j)ox. But in 1633-34 the \n\np. 261 ; Green, Centennial Address before the Mass. Med. Society^ \nJune 7, 1881, p. 12. \n\n^ Gorg-es, Briefs Narration (Prince Soc. ed.), chap. x. \n\n2 Purchas, iv. 1778. ^ Bradford, 314. \n\n\n4 \".1 x\\EW FOUND GOLGOTHA.'' 1G14. \n\nsinall-pox dill rage among the New England Indians,^ \nand Bradford, recognizing it at once, gives a fearfully \ngrapliic account of their sufferings ; and he adds, \n''they fear [the small-pox] more than the plague.\" \nThis last would seem to be decisive. A man who \nhad seen both forms of disease, and who was thor- \noughly familiar with small-pox, distinguishes the In- \ndian epidemic from it as an \" infectious fever,\" and \nas the less dreaded malady of the two. The great \nMassachusetts pestilence of 1616-17 could, therefore, \nhardly have been small-pox. \n\nWhatever the epidemic was, it made clean work \nwithin the limits of the narrow region to which its \nravages seem to have been confined. In fact, it prac- \ntically swept out of existence that entire tribe of the \nAlgonquin race known as the Massachusetts, while \nfor the time it apparently left untouched their neigh- \nbors, the hostile Tarratines at the north, and the Nar- \nragansetts and Pequots to the south and west. \n\nBefore this final calamity fell upon them, all ac- \ncounts concur in representing the Massachusetts as a \nnumerous people, and it is even said they were able \nto muster in time of war as many as three thousand \nfighting men.2 This would indicate a total population \nof at least five times that number, and was about the \nsupposed strength of the Pequots when, twenty years \nlater, they sustained a not wholly unequal struggle \nwith the combined colonies of Massachusetts, Plym- \nouth and Connecticut. Captain John Smith, who in \n161 1 voyaged along the coast trading and exploring, \n\n1 It is a singnlar fact, noted by both Bradford (p. 327) and Win- \nthrop (i. *120), that the English, who daily ministered to the savages \nduring this epidemic, did not contract the disease. \n\n2 I. Mass. Hist Coll. I 148. \n\n\n1614. THE MASSACHUSETTS. o \n\nsaw something of the Massachusetts as they then were, \nand he describes them as a \" goodly, strong and well- \nproportioned people,\" dwelling in a region which im- \npressed itself upon him as \" the paradise of all those \nparts ; for here are many isles all planted with corn, \ngroves, mulberries, salvage gardens, and good har- \nbors.\" He speaks of them, also, as \" very kind, but \nin their fury no less valiant ; for, upon a quarrel we \nhad with one of them, he only with three others \ncrossed the harbor of Quonahassit [Cohasset] to cer- \ntain rocks whereby we must pass, and there let fly \ntheir arrows for our shot, till we were out of danger.\" \nThere can be little doubt that, during this expedi- \ntion. Smith entered, and to some extent explored, Bos- \nton Bay, especially its southern portions. His map, \non which Quincy and Weymouth bays are very clearly \nindicated, is sufficient evidence of this. But if, as he \nsays, he found the Massachusetts a \" very kind \" peo- \nple, they certainly did not always so demean them- \nselves. They were savages like the rest, and, as will \npresently appear, could upon occasion show themselves \nas treacherous as they were cruel; though for that \nmatter they, too, had their own wrongs to avenge. \nThe traders along the coast were not only \" stuberne \nfellows,\" but rough and lawless as well, and there had \nbeen repeated cases of kidnapping, one at least of \nwhich had been accompanied by unprovoked and \nwholesale killing.^ If vessels from unknown shores \nhad then visited the coast of England or of France, \nor were now to sail into the harbors of Massachusetts, \nand, on departing, carried off, never to be heard of \nagain, such visitors as could be enticed on board, it is \nsafe to say that those coming in other vessels of appar- \n\n1 Bradford, 97 ; Smith, Gen. Hist. 204. \n\n\n6 \"^ NEW FOUND GOLGOTHA:' 1611. \n\nently similar character thereafter visiting those shores \nwould not be kindly received. This was the exact case \nof the savages of the New England coast ; but his- \ntory has recorded not much on their side of the story. \nSaying little of their wrongs, it dwells at length on \ntheir treachery, their cruelty, and their extermination. \n\nSmith mentions a French trading-vessel which had \npreceded him on the coast in 1614. There are traces \namong the early traditions of Boston Bay of two \nother vessels of the same nationality ; one of which \nwas cast away upon Cape Cod, while the other came \ninto Boston harbor to trade, and did not again leave \nit. The dates of these two occurrences cannot be \nfixed, but there seems reason to believe that both of \nthem happened somewhere between the time of \nSmith's visit, in 1614, and the breaking out of the pes- \ntilence, two years later. \n\nThe mariners of the wrecked vessel, it would seem, \nsucceeded in saving not only their lives, but a consid- \nerable portion of their goods and stores, which they \nendeavored to conceal on the sandy shores of Cape \nCod. As soon as their presence became known the \nsavages began to gather, and finally set upon them, \nkilling all but a few, and compelling the survivors to \ndisclose the whereabouts of their property. These \nsurvivors were five in number, and their captors dis- \ntributed them about in wretched captivity. Sent \nfrom one sachem to another to be made sport of, they \nwere fed with the food of dogs, while as hewers of \nwood and drawers of water they experienced a fate \nworse than that of slaves. So Governor Bradford re- \nported ; ^ whether the fate of these unfortunate French \nsailors was worse than that of the \" silly savages \" \n\n1 Bradford, 98. \n\n\n1614-19. INDIAN CAPTIVES. 1 \n\nwhom Captain Thomas Hunt, in 1614, kidnapped and \nsold at Malaga \" for a little private gain for rials of \neight,\" will never be known. But whether worse or \nnot, the fate of the Frenchmen was bad enough ; and \nit can readily be believed that, first and last, as the \nancient record expresses it, \" they weept much.\" Of \nthe five, two were at last redeemed from captivity by \nCaptain Dermer as late as 1619 ; while another, more \nfortunate than the rest in respect to the chief into \nwhose hands he fell, adapted himself to his new con- \nditions, and even had a squaw bestowed upon him, by \nwhom he left a child. Of yet another there has a \ntradition come down through two wholly disconnected \nsources ^ that he had saved a book, apparently a copy \nof the Bible, in which he often read ; and that finally \nhe learned enough of their language to rebuke his \ntormentors, and to predict for them God's displeasure \nand the coming of a race which should destroy them. \nSubsequently to the wreck on Cape Cod, the other \nof the two French vessels which have been referred to \nhad found its way into the outer roads of Boston har- \nbor, and cast anchor off Peddock's Island.^ While \nshe lay there, those on board of her apparently wholly \nunsuspicious of danger, the savages conceived the idea \nof her capture. Several years later one of those con- \ncerned in the affair, Pecksuot by name, exultingly \nrecounted its details to some trembling, half-starved \nsettlers, whose attention was doubtless not a little \nquickened by the well-grounded anticipation of a not \ndissimilar fate in near reserve for themselves at the \nhands of their informant. It is probable that the \nstory lost nothing either in the telling or in its long- \n\n1 N. E. Canaan, B. I. ch. iii. (Prince Soc. ed. 131, 132, n.) \n\n2 Ibid. (Prince Soc. ed. 130, n.) \n\n\n8 \"A NEW FOUND GOLGOTHA.\" 1615. \n\nsubsequent repetition ; but there is a vivid pictu- \nresqueness about it.^ \n\nThe plot was no less ingeniously devised than skil- \nfully executed. Throwing a quantity of furs into sev- \neral canoes, the savages paddled out to the anchored \nvessel. As they approached, their aspect was, as \nSmith expresses it, \" very kind,\" and no weapons of \nany sort, either bow or arrow, club or hatchet, were \nanywhere visible ; but, concealed under their robes \nand belted about their loins, they carried their knives. \nAs they came alongside the trader they flung their \nbeaver skins upon its deck, and, in the usual way, pro- \nceeded to chaffer for their price ; watching mean- \nwhile, with savage cunning, until they might take \ntheir victims wholly unaware. Then, at a given sig- \nnal, the attack began, and they thrust their \" knives \nin the French mens Bellys.\" The surprise was com- \nplete. Most of the vessel's crew were butchered on \nthe spot ; but the master, whose name has come down \nto us as Ffinch, less fortunate than the others in that \nhe was only wounded, crawled down into the vessel's \nhold, whither his assailants did not dare to follow him. \nThere for a time he concealed himself. The savages \nthen cut the cable, and, the tide setting that way, \ntheir prize soon drifted ashore, and \" lay upon her \nsid and slept ther.\" Presently the unfortunate mas- \nter, whether overcome by persuasion or driven by hun- \nger, wounds and despair, came up from his place of \nrefuge. He, too, was then despatched. Subsequently, \nafter the sachem had divided among his followers \neverything easily movable, they destroyed the stranded \nvessel, and \" it mad a very great fier.\" A number of \nyears later, in 1631, an early settler in Dorchester, \n1 IV. Mass. Hist. Coll. iv. 480. \n\n\n1616-20. A DOOMED RACE. 9 \n\nwhile digging in order to lay the foundations of a \nhouse, turned up some French coins, one of which \nbore the date of 1596.^ They were embedded deep \nin the soil, and were in all probability part of the pos- \nsessions of the unfortunate French mariners, which \nsubsequently had served a purpose as the ornament of \nsome Indian woman or the plaything of her child. \n\nThe tribe of the Massachusetts was thus in the \nfull pride of savage manhood when under the very \nshadow of their doom. A \" tawny \" race of \" tall \nand strong-limbed people,\" they were the possessors \nof \" large corn-fields,\" and dwelt in the plantations \nwhich then covered the islands in Boston Bay. They \nfelt their strength, and naturally enough exulted in it, \nmeeting the suggestion of disaster with the boast that \n\" they were so many, that God could not kill them.\" \nTwo years later the pestilence came, and, as if by \nmagic, \" the country was in a manner left void of \ninhabitants.\" Hardly, it was afterwards estimated, \ndid one in twenty escape ; ^ and though this probably \nwas an exaggeration, yet an explorer who came upon \nthe coast after the pestilence, comparing what he then \nsaw with his recollections of a previous visit, wrote \nthat as he passed along he found \" some ancient plan- \ntations, not long since populous, now utterly void.\" ^ \nWhen, also, Samoset came into the settlement at \nPlymouth, he told those there to the same effect, that \nthe place where they were was \" called Patuxet, and \nthat about four years ago all the inhabitants died of \nan extraordinary plague, and there [was] neither \nman, woman, nor child remaining.\" \n\nNo language of modern description could compare \n\n1 Winthrop, i. *o9. 2 Young, Chron. ofPilg. 258. \n\n8 Prince Soe. Pub. Gorges, i. 219 (n. 276). \n\n\n10 *M NEW FOUND GOLGOTHA.\" 1G16-21. \n\nin picturesque vigor with the simple words in which \nthose who shortly after visited the scene described the \nall-pervading character of the mortality, or the com- \npleteness of the destruction it worked. It seems to \nhave begun its ravages in 1616, and to have worn \nitself out, for want of fresh material rather than for \nany other cause, in 1617. Five years are not incon- \nsiderable in the lapse of time, and the scars of distem- \nper are, as a rule, rapidly effaced ; while, even if the \nshattered nerves of the survivors have in that interval \nfailed to recover their tone, the dead at least, it might \nbe supposed, would crumble into the soil. In the \ncase of the Massachusetts Indians we know, from the \nevidence of Robert Cushman,^ that five years later the \nspirit of the tribe was crushed, for, writing early in \n1622 of its wasted condition, he said that \" those that \nare left have their courage much abated, and their \ncountenance is dejected, and they seem as a people \naffrighted.\" Neither had the lapse of those five years \nsufficed to obliterate even the physical reminders of \ndeath. The country was not only swept wellnigh \nclean of the living, and in some places absolutely \nclean, but it was full of bleaching bones. When in \nJuly, 1621, Governor Winslow made the first consid- \nerable excursion from Plymouth into the interior, pen- \netrating as far as the northern limits of Rhode Island, \nhe noted, as he crossed the Taunton River, that the \nland was very fertile, and had been for the most part \nunder cultivation. \" Thousands of men,\" he reported, \n\" have lived there, which died in a great plague not \nlong since ; and pity it was and is to see so many \ngoodly fields, and so well seated, without men to dress \nand manure the same.\" They had perished so rap- \n\n1 Young, Chron. of Pilg. 183, 206, 258. \n\n\n1622. \"A VERY SAD SPECTACKLE.\" 11 \n\nidly, and the terror among the living had been so \ngreat, that they were not '' able to burie one another ; \nther sculs and bones we found in many places lying \nstill above ground, where their houses and dwellings \nhad been ; a very sad spectackle to behoidd ; \" ^ and \nanother writer speaks of the wigwams as lying \" full \nof dead corpses,\" while ^' howling and much lamenta- \ntion was heard among the living, who, being possest \nwith great feare, of times left their dead unburied.\" ^ \n\nThe plague centre would seem to have been Boston \nBay. Apparently there were not more than five hun- \ndred inhabitants, of whom some forty were fighting \nmen, left in all that region, and this handful of sur- \nvivors cannot be said to have occupied the country in \nany sense of the term. The disease swept the islands \nin the harbor wholly clear of inhabitants, and drove \nthe sachem Chickatabot from his plantation at Pas- \nsonagessit, now Mt. Wollaston, overlooking Quincy \nBay. The first white occupant of the abandoned \nplantation thus described what he saw in the region \nround about during the summer of 1622 : — \n\n\" They [had] died on heapes, as they lay in their houses ; \nand the living, that were able to shift for themselves, would \nrunne away and let them dy, and let there Carkases ly above \nthe ground without buriall. For in a place where many \ninhabited, there hath been but one left a live to tell what \nbecame of the rest ; the livinge being (as it seemes) not able \nto bury the dead, they were left for Crowes, Kites and ver- \nmin to pray upon. And the bones and skulls upon the sev- \nerall places of their habitations made such a spectacle after \nmy comming into those partes, that, as I travailed in that \nForrest nere the Massachussets, it seemed to mee a new \nfound Golgatha.\" * \n\n1 Bradford, 102. 2 „. Mass. Hist. Coll ii. 66. \n\n^ New English Canaan, Book I. chap, iii (See notes in Prince Soc \ned. 130-134.) \n\n\n12 \"/I NEW FOUND GOLGOTHA:* 1614-16. \n\nAnd in this way, as that eminent Christian divine \nand close student of the precepts of his Master, the \nRev. Cotton Mather, charitably observed eighty years \nlater, \" the woods were almost cleared of those perni- \ncious creatures, to make room for a better growth.\" ^ \n\n1 Magnalia, B. I. cli. ii. § 6. \n\n\nCHAPTER II. \n\nTHE ARGONAUTS OF BOSTON BAY. \n\nOn the afternoon of the i^ of September, 1621, \nshortly before sunset, an open boat, or shallop as it \nwas then called, entered Boston harbor, coming up \nalong the shore from the direction of Plymouth. In \nit were thirteen men, ten Europeans and three sav- \nagesj under the immediate command of Captain Miles \nStandish ; and their purpose was to explore the coun- \ntry in and about Massachusetts Bay, as Boston harbor \nwas then called, and to open a way to some inter- \ncourse with those inhabiting thereabout.^ The party \nhad left Plymouth with the ebb tide shortly before \nthe previous midnight, expecting to reach their des- \ntination at a o^ood hour in the mornino- : but the dis- \ncs o \n\ntance had proved greater than they supposed, and \ntheir progress slower ; so that the nine leagues upon \nwhich they had calculated seemed to them more like \ntwenty than the thirteen they really were. Once \nwithin the entrance of the harbor they steered directly \nfor what looked to them like \" the bottom of the bay,\" \nand came to anchor off Thomson's Island, passing the \nnight on board the shallop. Either that evening or \n\n1 The account of this expedition is contained in Mourt's Relation, \n57-60. This has been reprinted in n. Mass. Hist. Coll. ix. 57. Dr. \nYoung included it in his Chronicles of Plymouth (pp. 224-229) ; \nand subsequently, in 1865, the Relation.^ very carefully annotated by \nDr. H. M. Dexter, was made the first publication in the Library of \nNew England History. \n\n\n14 THE ARGONAUTS OF BOSTON BAY. Sep. \n\nearly the next inornin^, Standish, with others of the \nparty, hiiided on the island, and named it Trevore, \nfrom William Trevore, one of their number.^ \n\nHaving left Plymouth Tuesday night and passed \nalmost the whole of AVednesday in getting to their \ndestination, it was Thursday, the ^, before Standish \nand his companions were ready to extend their ex- \nplorations to the mainland. Betimes that morning \nthey seem to have crossed the narrow channel which \n\n^ The course taken by Standish's party has given rise to much \nquestion among' the commentators. The words used by Mourt are, \n\"We came into the bottom of the bay.\" To one accustomed to sail- \ning in Boston harbor and familiar with its entrances, this phrase, \nused in connection vnih. a boat coming up from Plymouth and making \nthe harbor by Point Allerton, can hardly bear a doubtful meaning. \nThe view from the channel off Point Allerton in the direction of \nThomson's Island is unbroken, while towards Boston it is obstructed \nby a succession of islands. Any stranger so entering the harbor in a \nsmall boat would naturally make for the open water near the mouth \nof the Xeponset, the apparent \" bottom of the bay.\" \n\nMoreover, Standish had Indian pilots and a distinct destination. \nUnquestionably, also, he had Smith's chart of 1614. He was in search \nof the principal sachem of the Massachusetts tribe. That tribe he \nsupposed lived near what Smith had called \" the high mountain of \nMassachuset,\" and set down as such on his map. Before the great \npestilence the sachem of the Massachusetts had dwelt at a place \ncalled the Massachusetts Fields. (Young, Chron. of Mass. 305, 395.) \nHis Indian pilots would naturally have directed Standish's course \ntowards where they knew these fields were, and in going there he had \nSmith's \"high mountain\" directly before him. The Massachusetts \nFields lay just behind the Squantum headland, in what is now the \ntown of Quincy ; and Thon^ison's Island is the nearest point to them, \nnot on the main shore. \n\nIn a deposition made long after, in relation to the ownership of \nThomson's Island, Standish stated that he visited this island in com- \npany with William Trevore the year he came into the country. {N. \nE. Hist, and Gen. Reg. ix. 248 ) It could only have been on this oc- \ncasion ; and apparently they must have landed on the island either \nthe evening of their arrival or early the next morning, as after \nthat the whole time of the explorers is accounted for in other direc- \ntions. \n\n\n1621. SQUANTUM. 15 \n\nseparates Thomson's Island from the bold and pictu- \nresque promontory of Squantum, and, there landing, \nfound upon the beach a number of lobsters thrown in \na pile ready to be carried off. Off these they made \na breakfast. This done, Standish posted a couple of \nmen behind the cliff on the landward side to guard \nthe shallop, and then went inland looking for inhabit- \nants, taking with him four others, with Squanto, one \nof his three Indians, for a guide. The party had not \ngone far when they met an Indian woman coming \nfor the lobsters they had eaten. Giving her some- \nthing for them, they questioned her as to the where- \nabouts of her people. Though Chickatabot then, and \nlong afterwards, was the chief sachem on that side of \nthe Neponset, and is reputed to have lived on a little \ncedar-covered hummock, still traditionally known as \nthe Sachem's Knoll, not far from where they were, \nthe woman seems to have belonged to the following of \na sagamore called Obbatinewat, who is mentioned in \nthe early records only in connection with Standish's \npresent visit. Accordingly it is not known where he \nmade his home, and at this time he may have been \nlurking in the neighborhood of Savin Hill or Dor- \nchester Heights. He certainly seems to have been \nsomewhere north of the Neponset ; for, instead of \nguiding the explorers to him, as she would have done \nhad he been south of that river, the woman pointed \nout the place where he was, and then, taking Squanto \nwith her, left Standish and the others to return to the \nshallop. She had apparently come across the bay to \nthe headland in a canoe. Retracing their steps to \nwhere they had left their boat, Standish and the rest \nmade haste to follow her. \n\nThey found Obbatinewat at the place she had \n\n\n16 THE ARGONAUTS OF BOSTON BAY. Sep. \n\npointed out, and, Squanto acting as interpreter, he \ndescribed to them apparently how he belonged further \nto the north, but added that he was then living in such \nmortal terror of the Tarratines that he did not dare \nstay long in any fixed place. He further told them \nthat the Squaw Sachem, by which title he seems to \nhave designated the widow and successor of Nane- \npashemet, the lately slain chief of the Massachusetts, \nwas likewise hostile to him. Taking advantage of the \nhunted creature's terror, Standish explained to him \nhow several sachems had already professed allegiance \nto King James, and promised that if he would do the \nsame he should be protected against his enemies. \nObbatinewat readily enough assented to this proposal, \nand then offered to guide the explorers to the place, \non the other side by the bay, where the Squaw Sachem \nlived. Accordingly, taking him with them on the \nshallop, the party made their way among the islands, \nthe great number of which they now with astonish- \nment seemed first to realize, and entered the inner \nharbor. That afternoon they came to anchor, appar- \nently on the Charlestown or Chelsea shore, near the \nmouth of the Mystic, and sent out their guides to \nlook for savages. None were to be found ; and again \nthe party passed the night on their shallop, appar- \nently not caring to run the risk of sleeping on the \nshore. \n\nThe next day they landed and pushed up into the \ncountry, in the direction, it would seem, of Medford \nand Winchester.^ Presently, after marching about \nthree miles, they came to an abandoned village ; and, \na mile further on, to the place where Nanepashemet \n\n1 The localities visited by the explorers from this point forward are \nvery closely followed by Dexter in his notes to Mourt, pp. 127-9. \n\n\n1621. NANEPASHEMETS HOUSE. 17 \n\nhad lived, and where his house was still standing, a \ndescription of which they give. In a swamp, not far \nfrom this, they found the dead sachem's stronghold, \nbeing an Indian palisadoed fort, some forty or fifty \nfeet in diameter, of the usual circular construction, \nwith a single entrance by means of a bridge crossing \nthe two ditches, tile one within and the other without; \nand \" in the midst of this palisado stood the frame of \na house, wherein, being dead, he lay buried.\" \n\nThe explorers went but a mile beyond the stockade. \nThey had then come to Nanepashemet's home, where \nhe had been surprised by the Tarratines, about a year \nbefore as it is supposed, and killed. The house, if it \ncan so be called, was another stockade, much like the \none they had already seen, but standing on a hilltop. \nIt had not been occupied since the sachem's death. \nHere the party stopped, and two of\" their guides were \nsent out to find the frightened Indians ; for, as they \nmarched along, it was evident the rumor of their ap- \nproach had gone before, and the savages had fled to \ntheir hiding-places, leaving behind them only the poles \nof their hastily stripped wigwams, and, in one place, \na pile of corn covered with a mat. \n\nPresently their guides found some Indian women at \na spot not far off, and thither the party went. The \npoor creatures had evidently taken refuge there, and \nin great alarm were trying to hide themselves, having \nbrought with them such of their supplies as they could \ncarry, for the unburied corn lay about in heaps. It \nwas not without difficulty that their fears were quieted ; \nbut at last the friendly bearing of the strangers pro- \nduced its effect, and the squaws took heart sufficiently \nto provide for them such food as they could. No \nmales had yet been seen ; but at length, after much \n\n\n18 THE ARGONAUTS OF BOSTON BAY. Sep. \n\nseiuliiig- ami coaxing, a warrior was induced to show \nhimself, '' shaking and trembling for fear.\" He, too, \nwas at last made to understand that the explorers meant \nhim no harm, but wished rather to trade with him for \nhis furs, and finally he gained confidence enough to \npromise to deal with them. They then asked him as \nto the whereabouts of the Squaw Sachem, but on this \npoint seem to have got little satisfaction. They could \nlearn nothing except that she was \" far from thence.\" \n\nThe day being now spent, the party made ready to \ngo back to their boat, and Squanto took the opportu- \nnity to urge upon them the propriety of plundering \nthe Indian women of their furs and what little else \nthey had ; \" for, said he, they are a bad people, and \nhave oft threatened you.\" To this proposal Stan- \ndish and his companions made answer that, were they \nnever so bad, \" we would not wrong them, or give \nthem any just occasion against us: for their words, \nwe little weighed them ; but if they once attempted \nanything against us, then we would deale far worse \nthen he desired.\" By this time the women had grown \nvery friendly; so friendly, in fact, that they accom- \npanied the party the whole distance back to the shal- \nlop, where at last the spirit of trade proved so strong \nthat they even \" sold their coats from their backs, \nand tied boughs about them, but with great shame- \nfacedness, for indeed they are more modest than some \nof our English women are.\" Then the explorers, \" the \nwind coming fair, and having a light moon, set out at \nevening, and, through the goodness of God, came safely \nhome before noon the day following.\" \n\nThe party were gone from Plymouth four days, \nfrom Tuesday midnight to Saturday noon, during \nwhat is now the end of September and early October. \n\n\n1621. A ^'PARADISEr 19 \n\nThey had also been most fortunate in their weather ; \nand on this point the slowness of the voyage up, and \nthe wind coming fair with a light moon on the \nreturn, tell, in connection with the season, the whole \nstory. The record of a weather bureau would only \nconfirm it. They had first seen Boston harbor with \nits islands and the region thereabout during the finest \nseason of the New England year, — the season of \nclear, windless, autumn days, while the leaves, yet \nscarlet and golden, are thick on the trees. Every- \nthing then conveys a sense of ripeness, with hardly a \nsuggestion of death, and the atmosphere, mild and yet \nexhilarating, hangs like a veil over the landscape, \ngiving it a soft aspect, in strong contrast with the \nsharp-cut brilliancy of the ordinary New England \nday. It was during two of these rare days that \nStandish and his companions rambled over the Squan- \ntum headland and the Medford hills, and along the \nshores of the Mystic. In the distance they saw the \nBlue Hills, hazy and shadowy against the sky, while \nthe swelling, forest-clad outline of the nearer land- \nscape glowed with a dying verdure. It was not un- \nnatural, therefore, that when they got home the Plym- \nouth shore seemed to them tame and flat, and they \nspoke in regretful terms of the broad harbor they had \njust seen, and the beautiful region about it, and \nwished '' they had been ther seated.\" \n\nIt was now seven years since Smith's visit to that \nregion. He had been there at a different season of \nthe year, but had been impressed in the same way, \nand had pronounced the vicinity of Boston Bay \" the \nparadise of all those parts.\" Otherwise no stronger \ncontrast could be imagined than between what he re- \nported and what Standish saw ; for, in place of the \n\n\n20 THE ARGONAUTS OF BOSTON BAY. Sep. \n\n\" great troops \" of \" j:^oo(lly, strong, and well-propor- \ntioned people,\" whom Smith found \"very kind, but in \ntheir fury no less valiant,\" Standish and his compan- \nions could only hunt up the skulking Obbatinewat, \nwho '' durst not then remaine in any setled place,\" \nand the poor, cowering wretch who was coaxed in to \nthem, \" shaking and trembling for feare.\" The is- \nlands, too, in the country of the Massachusetts, which \nSmith saw planted with cornfields, groves, mulberries, \nand salvage gardens, — these islands the Plymouth \nexplorers reported had been \" cleared from end to end, \nbut the people were all dead or removed.\" \n\nMany points in Boston harbor bear names of \nPlymouth origin. Point Allerton, for instance, com- \nmemorates Isaac Allerton, who was for many years \ndeputy-governor under Bradford ; while the Brewsters, \nopposite, were so called after the elder of the Plym- \nouth church. While it is not known precisely when \nthese names were given, — whether by the explorers \nof 1621, or by others at a later day, — Bradford says \nthat the Charles River was first identified on this oc- \ncasion, \" supposing that was it which Captaine Smith \nin his mapp so named.\" The island Trevore soon \nlost the designation given it by Standish, and has, since \n1626, been known a^ Thomson's Island ; but the pe- \nninsula opposite has always retained its original name, \nperpetuating the memory of the Indian interpreter \nwho guided the first party of Europeans that ever set \nfoot upon it. It has been suggested that it was then \nand there called Squantum by Standish or Bradford \nor Winslow, just as the name Trevore had been given \na few hours earlier ; but of this there is no evidence. \nThe name is a familiar one in the Indian dialect, \nbeing that of a god ; by some said to be the good, as \n\n\n1621. \"A SPETIALL INSTRUMENT:' 21 \n\nopposed to the evil one, though the word itself would \nseem to imply a god of wrath. It may therefore have \nbeen the Indian name for the peninsula from time im- \nmemorial, just as Nahant was the name of the other \npeninsula opposite to it, witho-ut the harbor ; but it \nis certain that Squantum has been known by that \nname, or as Squanto, ever since the first European \nlived near it, and that practically it does perpetuate \nthe memory of the Indian guide, and not that of the \nIndian deity.^ \n\nThat this should be so is, too, in every way fit and \nproper. Squanto has not had his due place in New \nEngland history given to him ; for if human instru- \nments are ever prepared by special providence for a \ngiven work, he was assuredly so prepared for his. \nGovernor Bradford on behalf of the Pilgrims wrote \nhis best epitaph in these words : — \" [He] was their \ninterpreter, and was a spetiall instrument sent by God \nfor their good beyond their expectation. He directed \nthem how to set their corne, wher to take fish and to \nprocure other comodities, and was also their pilott to \nbring them to unknowne places for their profitt, and \nnever left them till he dyed.\" ^ \n\nSquanto, in fact, was for a time perhaps the most \n\n^ A derivation of the name, as grotesque and far-fetched as it is \nabsurd, was at a later period found in the ubiquitous Lover's-leap le- \ngend. An Indian woman was supposed to have put an end to herself \nby spring-ing- from the bold crag whieh forms the peninsula s east- \nern extremity, and is still known as Squaw Rock. (See Memorial \nHistory of Boston, i. 64.) Thence the name Squaw's Tumble, cor- \nrupted into Squantum. Even John Adams, writing in 1762, speaks \nof \" the high, steep rock from whence the squaw threw herself who \ngave the name to the place.\" Works, ii. 136. See, also, Drake, In- \ndians, 106 ; Shurtleff, Boston, 505 ; Young, Chron. of Filg. 191, n. ; \nYoung, Chron. of Mass. 257 ; iii. Mass. Hist. Coll. viii. 176; Wonder \nWorking Providence, 16 ; Dexter, Mourt, 99, n. ; N. E. Canaan, 93. \n\n2 Bradford, 95. \n\n\n22 THE ARGONAUTS OF BOSTON BAY. 1621-2. \n\nessential factor to the prolonged existence of the \nPlymouth colony, for it was he who showed the starv- \ning and discouraged settlers how to plant and tend \nthat maize, without their crop of which the famine of \nthe second winter would have finished those few who \nsurvived the exposure of the first. Not only, also, is \nhis name perpetuated by a promontory in Quincy \nBay, but the story of his life affords almost the best \nintroduction possible to an account of the settlement \nof the region thereabout. Full of the spirit of the \ntime, it tastes also of the soil. \n\n\nCHAPTER III. \n\nSQUANTO'S STORY. \n\nSquanto, or Tisquantum, as he was indiscrimi- \nnately called, was of the Pokanoket tribe, which had \nonce occupied all the region between the Narragan- \nsetts and the Massachusetts, and had been sufficiently \npowerful to hold its own against both. The tradi- \ntion ran that at one time it could muster three thou- \nsand warriors.^ Squanto was a native of Patuxet, as \nPlymouth was called in the Indian dialect. It is not \nknown when he was born ; but in 1614, when Smith \ncame to New England, he had in company with hi^n \none Captain Thomas Hunt, who, when Smith set out \non his return voyage, remained behind to load his ves- \nsel with dried fish for the Spanish market. When \nready to sail, this man apparently conceived the idea \nof supplementing his legitimate cargo by kidnaj^ping \na number of natives, with a view to selling them as \nslaves. This he proceeded to do, and, enticing a score \nor so of the Pokanokets on board his vessel, put to \nsea. Among them was Squanto.^ Off Cape Cod he \nlater kidnapped others of the Nauset tribe. \n\n1 I. Mass. Hist. Coll. i. 148. \n\n2 The time and place of the kidnapping of Squanto have given the \nauthorities a great deal of trouble. There are two distinct statements \non the subject. Bradford (p. 95) says he was \" carried away with \ndivers others by one Hunt,\" and that he was \" a native of this place \" \n(Plymouth). Sii* Ferdinando Gorges, on the other hand, says that Cap- \ntain Weymouth happened to come into Plymouth in July, 1605, from \n\n\n24 SQUANTO'S STORY. 1605^14. \n\nHunt seems to have then gone to Malaga, where he \nproceeded to dispose of his cargo, both dried fish and \n\nhis voyage to the Penobscot, \" from whence he brought five of the \nnatives, three of -whose names were Manida, Skettwarroes, and Tas- \nquantura, whom I seized upon.\" (Briefe Narration, ch. ii., Prince \nSoc. ed. ii. 8, n.) Accordingly Drake {Book of Indians, 71) says that \n\" it is impossible that JSir Ferdinando should have been mistaken \" \nin this matter; and Dr. Dexter (Moiirt, DO, n.), after saying that \nSquanto was clearly one of Weymouth's five captives, ventures the \nsupposition that he somehow got back from the kidnapping of lOOo, \nand was kidnapped again in 1614. (JSee, also, Bryant and Gay, United \nStates, i. 401; Young, Chron. of Pilg. 190, n.) \n\nNevertheless there can be no doubt that Gorges was mistaken in \nhis statement, and that the Patuxet savage was not kidnapped at \nPemaquid. In the first place, it is not supposable that a member of \nthe Pokdnoket tribe would be passing the summer of 1605 in a visit \namong his deadly enemies the Tarratines, whose language even was \nnot intelligible to him (ui. Mass. Hist. Coll. vi. 59 ; Palfrey, i. 23, n.), \nand be captured as one of a party of them in the way described by \nRosier (iii. Mass. Hist. Coll. viii. 144). In the second place, Gorges \nthroughout is singularly careless in the references he makes to his \nIndians. He mentions by name seven in all. He then, for instance^ \nin the Brief Eelation, says he sent out two of them, Epenow and \nManawet, with Captain Hobson, in 1614 (ri. Mass. Hist. Coll. ix. 5). \nAfterwards, in the Briefe Narration, he says he sent out, not two, but \nthree, and gives their names as Epenow, Assacomet, and Wenape (iii. \nMass. Hist. Coll. vi. 60) ; then, two pages further on (p. 62), he includes \nSquanto among them. Again he speaks of Epenow as having been \ntaken with twenty-nine others, who were sold for slaves in Spain, — \nvery clearly referring to Hunt's proceeding in 1614 (ib. 58) ; and im- \nmediately afterwards (p. 60) he says he sent liim out as a guide and \ninterpreter to an expedition some months earlier in the same year. \nFinally, as respects Squanto, Gorges distinctly contradicts himself. \nIt is in the Briefe Narration, printed in 1658, and written at least as \nlate as 1637, that he names Tasquantum among the savages captured \nby Weymouth. Meanwhile, in the Brief Relation, printed in 1622, \nfifteen years nearer the event, he speaks of Tasquantum as ' ' one of \nthose savages that formerly had been betrayed by the unworthy \nHunt.\" (n. Mass. Hist. Coll. ix. 7.) \n\nApparently the names of the five Weymouth savages were Manida, \nSketwarroes (iii. Mass. Hist. Coll. vi. 50, 51), Assacomet, Wenape \n(ib. 60), and Manawet (ii. Mass. Hist. Coll. ix. 5). Epenow was a \nMartha's Vineyard Indian, kidnapped earlier than 1614 by Captain \n\n\n1615-19. DERMER'S VOYAGES. 25 \n\nIndians ; but before the latter were all sold, the pro- \nceeding came to the notice of the church, when the \npriests interfered, seizing upon the savages as heathen \nmeet for conversion. Whether Squanto was one of \nthose thus saved from Spanish servitude, or whether \nHunt, finding him useful, kept him in his own hands, \ndoes not appear ; but he is next heard of in England, \nwhere, towards the end of 1614 or the beginning of \n1615, he was domesticated in the house of '' the Wor- \nshipfull John Slany, of London, Merchant,\" dwell- \ning in Cheapside, and one of the undertakers and \ntreasurer of the Newfoundland plantation. By him \nSquanto next seems to have been sent out to New- \nfoundland, probably with Captain John Mason, who \nwent there as governor, as he was called, though more \nproperly as the resident business manager of the \ncompany. In 1615 Captain Dermer, an explorer in \nGorges' interest, visited Newfoundland, and there \nfound Squanto. Talking with him, he received the \nusual glowing account which exiled savages are wont \nto give of their native places, and conceived a strong \ndesire to explore the region thus described. Accord- \ningly he wrote to Gorges in relation to the matter, \nand, the next year, when he returned to prepare for \nhis voyage, he took Squanto back to England with \nhim. \n\nEarly in the season of 1619 Dermer, still accom- \npanied by Squanto, sailed in one of Gorges' vessels \n\nEdward Harlow (Smith, Gen. Hist. ii. 174), and picked up in London \nby one Captain Harley, who carried him to Gorges (ni. Mass. Hist. \nColl. vi. 58). Squanto alone was one of Hunt's victims, and Gorges \nfirst heard of him in Captain Mason's service in Newfoundland, through \nCaptain Dermer, in 1618 (n. Mass. Hist. Coll. ix. 7). On this point \nsee, also, the notes (146, 255, 293, 300) in Baxter, Sir Ferdinando \nGorges, in the Prince Society Publications. \n\n\n26 SQUANTO'S STORY. 1619. \n\nbouiul for the Maine fishing stations. Leaving this \nvessel at ]\\Ionhegan, they set out on the 19th of May, \nin an open five-ton pinnace, and coasted along the \nshore to Plymouth. But it was now nearly five years \nsince the kidnapping of Squanto, and in the mean time \nthe great plague of 1616-17 had ravaged all those \nparts ; so they found the place void of inhabitants. \nThey were all dead. Leaving Plymouth, Dermer \nnext touched at Cape Cod, where he redeemed from \ncaptivity one of the French crew shipwrecked there \nthree years before, and then on the ~ of June he \nreached a large island south of that cape. Turning \nback, he then returned to Monhegan, arriving at that \nplace on the |JJ of the same month. \n\nAfter refitting, and sending home an account of \nwhat he had seen, Dermer now started for Virginia, \nstill in his pinnace. While off Cape Ann he came \nvery near being wrecked ; and at Cape Cod he fell \ninto the hands of the Indians, and barely escaped \nwith his life, being saved by Squanto, who, as Dermer \nwrote, \" entreated hard for me.\" Squanto seems now \nto have left him, but apparently only for a short time, \nwhile Dermer himself, having continual trouble with \nthe natives, went on to Martha's Vineyard. Here he \nfell in with Epenow, another of Gorges' Indians, who, \na number of years before, had been kidnapped and \ntaken to England by Captain Edward Harlow. Un- \nlike Squanto, Epenow seems to have been an ingrained \nsavage, crafty and cruel. Being a captive in London, \nhe had in the summer of 1614 effected his deliverance \nin a very clever way ; for, exciting the cupidity of \nGorges and Captain Harley by wonderful stories of \nthe hidden wealth of his native place, he had induced \nthem to fit out a vessel on which he went as inter- \n\n\n1619-20. EPENOW. 27 \n\npreter and guide. He was to lay open to them the \nmmes of Martha's Vineyard. They were not without \nsuspicions of the wily fellow, and he was kept under \nclose watch, being clad \" with long garments, fitly to \nbe laid hold on if occasion should require.\" Never- \ntheless, when they reached Martha's Vineyard, and his \nfriends in their canoes were lying about the vessel, he \nsuddenly slipped overboard and made his escape, \" al- \nthough he was taken hold of by one of the company ; \nyet, being a strong and heavy man, could not be \nstayed.\" A combat ensued, in which the Europeans \ndo not seem to have had the advantage. \"And thus,\" \nwrote Gorges, \" were all my hopes of that particular \nmade void and frustrate, and they returned without \ndoing more.\" \n\nWhen, therefore, Dermer came to Martha's Vine- \nyard in 1619, and there met him, Epenow had been \nfor five years in the enjoyment of his recovered lib- \nerty ; but on this occasion he apparently treated Der- \nmer well, giving him, as Dermer himself says, \" very \ngood satisfaction in everything almost I could desire.\" \nContinuing his voyage, the explorer seems to have \npassed through Long Island Sound and Hell Gate, \nwhere he was nearly wrecked, and at last reached \nJamestown. There he passed the winter. \n\nThe next season, having in the mean time put a deck \nto his pinnace. Captain Dermer again sailed for Cape \nCod. Squanto was now certainly with him. Land- \ning on Martha's Vineyard, he once more, according to \nGorges, encountered Epenow, who now showed the \nother side of his character. The statement of Gorges \nis not to be implicitly accepted ; but whether Epenow \nhad any connection with the affair or not, Dermer's \nparty was certainly attacked by the Indians, and all \n\n\n28 SQUANTO'S STORY. March, \n\nof them killed, excepting one man who had been left \nin the boat, and Dermer himself, who was grievously \nwounded. In fact. Gorges says, he received fourteen \nwounds ; while, according to Bradford, the savages \nwould have \" cut off his head upon the cuddy of hi? \nboat, had not the man rescued him with a sword.' \nNotwithstanding his hurts he made shift to get to Vir- \nginia, where, to the great discouragement of Gorges, \nhe subsequently died.^ \n\nThe conflict between Dermer and the Indians, which \nresulted so disastrously for the former, must have \ntaken place in the summer of 1620, and only a very \nfew months before the arrival of the Mayflower at \nCape Cod. Bradford says that at the time Squanto \nwas with Dermer, but it does not ai^pear when he sep- \narated from him. It may have been then ; or he may \nhave gone back to Virginia with Dermer, and, after \nthe death of the latter, found his way to his own coun- \ntry in some trading vessel. In any event, having thus \nhad no little experience as a voyager along that coast, \nhe was living in the winter of 1620-1 with the rem- \nnants of the Pokanokets within the territory of Mas- \nsasoit ; and on Thursday, the -^ of g^, a very fair, \nwarm day, at about one o'clock in the afternoon, he \nwalked into the Plymouth settlement in company with \nSamoset. \n\nIt has already been mentioned ^ that during the five \nyears of Squanto's absence the pestilence had literally \nexterminated his tribe. Scarce any had been left \nalive, and he was the only surviving native of Patuxet. \nIt is probable, therefore, that he now actually felt \nmore at home among the settlers than among his fel- \nlows, and certainly he never afterwards showed the \n\n1 Brief Relation, 19, Prince Soe. ed. i. 219, n. ^ Supra, 26. \n\n\n1021. MASSASOIT. 29 \n\nslightest disposition to return and cast in his lot with \nthe latter. When he came into the settlement it was \nas a sort of herald to announce the coming of Massa- \nsoit with his train of sixty men ; but the next day, \nwhen the rest went away, he remained, and to good \npurpose ; for the Plymouth people had none too much \nto eat then, and it probably was in consequence Oi \nthis painfully apparent fact that \" Squanto went at \nnoone to fish for Eeles. At night he came home \nwith as many as he could well lift in one hand, which \nour people were glad of. They were fat and sweet. \nHe trod them out with his feete, and so caught them \nwith his hands, without any other instrument.\" \n\nSquanto died towards the close of November, 1622, \nand his connection with the Plymouth settlement \nextended, therefore, over a period of only twenty \nmonths ; but those months covered the crucial period \nfor Plymouth, and during them his services were in \nconstant requisition. Early in Apnl, about four \nweeks after Squanto made his appearance, the May- \nflower sailed for home, and Bradford then goes on to \ndescribe how — \n\n\" Afterwards they (as many as were able) began to plant \nther corn, in which servise Squanto stood them in great \nstead, showing them both the nianer how to set it, and after \nhow to dress and tend it. Also he tould them, excepte they \ngott fish and set with it (in these old grounds), it would \ncome to nothing ; and he showed them that in the midle \nof Aprill they should have store enough come up the \nbrooke, by which they begane to build, and taught them how \nto take it, and wher to get other provissions necessary for \nthem ; all which they found true by triall and experience. \nSome English seed they sew, as wheat and pease, but it \ncame not to good.\" \n\n\n30 SQUANTO'S STORY. July, \n\nNo sooner was it possible to dispense a little with \nSquanto's services as a planter than they were called \ninto requisition as an interpreter for, \"haveing in \nsome sorte ordered their bussines at home,\" the mag- \nistrates bethought themselves of Massasoit's visit to \nthem in March, and determined to send a return em- \nbassy to him with suitable presents. Stephen Hop- \nkins and Edward Winslow were made choice of for \nthis service, and on Monday, i|^ July they set out \nunder Squanto's guidance, bearing with them as pro- \npitiatory gifts \" a Horse-man's coat of red Cotton, and \nlaced with a slight lace,\" and a \" copper Chayne.\" \nMassasoit's home was on the Narragansett Bay, a \ndistance of some forty miles from Plymouth by the \nroad they took, but Squanto, telling the ambassadors \nwhat they should do in each exigency as it arose, \npressed them on so energetically that the journey was \nfinished betimes on the second day. Then, his work \nas guide being done, he acted as interpreter and \nmaster of ceremonies. \n\n\" Having delivered our foresayd Message and Presents, \nand having put the Coat on his backe, and the Chayne \nabout his necke, [Massasolt] was not a little proud to be- \nhold himself e, and his men also to see their King so bravely \nattyred.\" \n\nThis took place on a Wednesday. The next day \nMassasoit entertained his guests, and was very ear- \nnest with them to stay longer, — \n\n\" But wee desired to keepe the Sabboth at home : and \nfeared we should either be light-headed for want of sleepe, \nfor what with bad lodging, the Savages barbarous singing \n(for they use to sing themselves asleepe), lice and fleas \nwithin doores, and Muskeetoes without, wee could hardly \nsleepe all the time of our being there ; we much fearing, \n\n\n1621. JOHN BILLINGTON. 31 \n\nthat if wee slioukl stay any longer, we should not be able to \nrecover home for want of strength. So that on the Fry day \nmorning [July ^] before Sun-rising we took our leave and \ndeparted.\" \n\nBradford adds that the ambassadors \" came both \nweary and hungrie home,\" having \" found but short \ncommons.\" Squanto they had left behind, for Massa- \nsoit had retained him for the time being, to send \nfrom place to place in search of beaver skins ; so, hav- \ning served as a planter, a guide and an interpreter, \nhe was now doing active duty as a commercial agent. \n\nA few weeks after the return of Winslow and Hop- \nkins, in the early part of August, a boy named John \nBillington, the son of one of the settlers, lost himself \nin the woods and wandered off in a southerly direc- \ntion until he came to an Indian village, at what is \nnow Sandwich, some twenty miles from Plymouth. \nHe was thence taken to Eastham, and, his where- \nabouts having been discovered by the magistrates \nthrough the aid of Massasoit, it was determined to \nsend a party to recover him. As usual, Squanto ac- \ncompanied the party as its guide and interpreter, — \nTokamahamon, another Indian, also going along, — \nand the next morning they landed at Barnstable. \nHere an incident occurred which throws a strong \ngleam of light on the kidnapping proceedings of Wey- \nmouth, Hunt and the rest along that coast, showing \nas it did the harsh afflictions heaped on the doomed \nand plague-stricken race. It can be told only in the \nwords of the historian of the exj^edition : — \n\n\" One thing was very grievous unto us at this place ; \nThere was an old woman, whom we judged to be no lesse \nthan an hundred yeeres old, which came to see us because \nshee never saw English, yet could not behold us without \n\n\n82 SQUANTO'S STORY. Aug. \n\nbreaking forth into great passion, weeping and crying ex- \ncessively. We demaunding the reason of it, they told us, \nshe had three sons, who when master Hunt was in these \nparts went aboord his Ship to trade with him, and he car- \nried them Ca])tives into Spaine, (for Tisquantum at that \ntime was carried away also,) by which meanes shee was de- \nprived of the comfort of her children in her old age. . . . \nSo we gave her some small trifles, which somewhat ap- \npeased her.\" \n\nFrom Barnstable the party moved along the shore \nto Eastbam, and there, remaining on board their boat \nas a precaution against any possible hostilities on the \npart of the savages, who swarmed in great numbers \nabout it, they sent Squanto on shore to negotiate for \nthe return of the lost boy. This he did successfully. \n\n\"After Sun-set, Aspinet came with a great traine, and \nbrought the boy with him, one bearing him through the \nwater : hee had not lesse then an hundred with him, the \nhalfe whereof came to the Shallop side unarmed with him, \nthe other stood aloofe with their bow and arrowes. There \nhe delivered us the boy, behung with beades, and made \npeace with us, wee bestowing a knife on him, and likewise \non another that first entertained the Boy and brought him \nthither. So they departed from us.\" \n\nDuring this expedition alarming rumors had reached \nthe ears of those engaged in it of an attack on the \nfriendly Massasoit by the powerful tribe of Narragan- \nsetts, who, unreduced in numbers by the great plague \nof 1617, occupied the country to the west. It ap- \npeared that among Massasoit' s sachems was one called \nCorbitant. This chief, more jealous if not more far- \nseeing than the rest, did not fancy the neighborhood \nof the Plymouth colony, and consequently was now \nallying himself with the Narragan setts. Corbitant \n\n\n1621. HOBAMACK. 33 \n\nseems to have appreciated at their true importance \nthe services Squanto was rendering the Europeans ; \nfor he declared that if Squanto \" were dead, the Eng- \nlish had lost their tongue,\" and, to use the language in \nMourt, he spoke \"disdainfully of us, storming at the \nPeace between Nauset, Cummaquid and us, and at \nTisquantum the worker of it.\" Accordingly, with \nsavage directness, Corbitant sought the first occasion \nto destroy Squanto. He did not have long to wait. \n\nAt about this time another Indian, Hobamack by \nname, had cast in his fortunes with the Europeans. \nThough unacquainted with the English tongue, Hoba- \nmack proved an important acquisition to the settle- \nment, for among the savages he was a warrior of \nknown prowess. Later he professed Christianity, and \nreceived an allotment of land in Plymouth ; neither, \nmore fortunate than Squanto in this respect, has his \nfidelity to his new friends ever been called in question, \nfor \"though he was much tempted by enticements, \nscoffs, and scorns from the Indians, yet could he \nnever be gotten from the English, nor from seeking \nafter their God, but died amongst them, leaving some \ngood hopes in their hearts that he went to rest.\" \n\nShortly after the return of the Eastham expedition \nSquanto and Hobamack were despatched among the \nIndians to ascertain the facts about the rumored at- \ntack on Massasoit. Corbitant, learning of their pres- \nence, surprised them at an Indian settlement some \nfourteen miles west of Plymouth, in what is now Mid- \ndleborough, and at once proceeded to pick a quarrel \nwith them, presently drawing his knife ; upon which \nHobamack fled, leaving his companion behind, and \nmade his way in great terror to Plymouth, where he \nappeared, \" aU sweating,\" and spread the news of \n\n\n34 SQUANTO'S story. 1G21 \n\nSquanto's danger. A meeting of the settlers was at \nonce held, and energetic action decided upon. It was \nresolved to send Standish with a strong party of four- \nteen men to make a night surprise, with instructions, \nif they found that Squanto had indeed been killed, \n\" to cut off Corbitant's head.\" Meanwhile they were \nalso to seize another sachem, of doubtful friendliness, \nand hold him as a hostage until definite word could \nbe obtained as to the safety of Massasoit. The party \nset out on the ^ of August, and succeeded the next \nnight in surprising the village, though they failed to \nsecure Corbitant, who, it appeared, after threatening \nSquanto, had gone away with his followers without in- \njuring him. In the panic of the surprise some of the \nIndians made an attempt to escape, and were badly \nwounded. The next morning, after making loud \nproclamation of the vengeance they would inflict on \nCorbitant if he did not desist from his acts of hos- \ntility, or if Massasoit was injured, Standish and his \nparty returned to Plymouth, bringing with them the \nwounded of the previous night and the rescued Indian. \nA month later took place that expedition to Boston \nBay which has already been described, when the pe- \nninsula of Squantum was visited and perhaps so named. \nThis closed the season; and; being now well recov- \nered in health and strength, the little colony, reaping \nthe natural fruits of their own prudent energy, or, as \nBradford more piously phrased it, finding that the \nLord was with them in all their ways, began to gather \nin their small harvest and to make ready their dwell- \nings against the winter. Thanks chiefly to Squanto, \nduring all that summer there had been no want felt. \nAnd now, when autumn came, there came with it \ngreat flocks of water-fowl and of wild turkeys, nor did \n\n\n1621. A CHALLENGE. 35 \n\nthey want of venison or meal or Indian corn ; \" which \nmade many afterwards write so largly of their plenty \nhear to their f reinds in England, which were not fained, \nbut true reports.\" \n\nIn November the ship Fortune arrived, bringing its \nwelcome addition to the numbers of the colony ; and, \nbeing immediately loaded, was despatched on her re- \nturn voyage a fortnight later. Part of her return \ncargo, and apparently the most valuable part of it, \nwas two hogsheads of beaver and other skins ; and \nfor these also the settlers were indebted to their Indian \nfriend, for, as Bradford writes, there was not \"any \namongst them that ever saw a beaver skin until they \ncame hear and were informed by Squanto.\" \n\nSome time in December, not long after the sailing \nof the Fortune, an Indian messenger appeared in the \nsettlement in company with the friendly Tokamaha- \nmon, and inquired for Squanto. It was a messenger \nfrom Canonicus, chief of the Narragan setts. On \nbeing informed that Squanto was not then at home, \nthe messenger seemed to be rather relieved than other- \nwise, and, leaving for him a bundle of new arrows \nencased in a rattlesnake's skin, prepared to return at \nonce, but was detained until the next morning, the \nsettlers hoping to learn something further. Failing \nin that, they then dismissed him, with a threatening \nmessage to his chief, and he took himself off in a vio- \nlent storm without tasting food, thankful apparently \nto escape with a whole skin. Presently Squanto got \nback, and, the arrows being shown him, he was called \nupon to interpret their significance. This he did, say- \ning that they and the rattlesnake's skin, sent in that \nmanner, imported enmity ; that, in fact, it was a chal- \nlenge. Thereupon the arrows were taken from the \n\n\n36 SQUANTO'S STORY. 1621-2. \n\nskin, and the famous return challenge of powder and \nshot sent back in it to Canonicus, to that chieftain's \ninfinite alarm. \n\nNothing further calculated to excite fears of any- \nimmediate danger happened at that time, but subse- \nquently, so far as Squanto was concerned, these events \nassumed another meaning in the minds of the settlers. \nThe winter wore slowly away. The little settlement \nwas always in readiness against attack, but there was \ncomparative plenty in the land, and, with a sufficiency \nof food, there was little sickness. That this plenty \nwas largely due to the active intervention of him who \nhad \"directed them how to set their corne, wher to \ntake fish, and to procure other comodities,\" and in \nwhose death a year later \" they had a great loss,\" the \ngovernor of the colony is witness. Yet Bradford's \ntestimony has not prevented modern authorities from \nreaching the conclusion that all this time \" Squanto \nwas in the interest of Corbitant, and lived among the \nEnglish as a spy.\" ^ This startling conclusion seems \nto be based entirely on certain occurrences which be- \nfell during the six months between the first visit of \nthe Plymouth people to Boston Bay in Sej)tember, \n1621, and their second visit in the succeeding April. \nWhile those occurrences, as will be seen, do not justify \nthe inference in regard to Squanto which has been \ndrawn from them, they do afford a notable illustra- \ntion of the innate childishness of the Indian charac- \nter, and of the shrewd cunning with which the Plym- \nouth elders played upon it. \n\nNaturally enough, as their earliest friend and in- \nterpreter, Squanto plumed himself greatly on his im- \nportance to the English settlement, and regarded with \n^ Drake, Book of Indians, 103. \n\n\n1622. AN INDIAN INTRIGUE. 37 \n\nno friendly eyes the growing estimate in which Hoba- \nmack was there held. Squanto was, in fact, jealous of \nHobamack ; and his jealousy was reciprocated. But \nMassasoit was a personage of far more consequence to \nthe Plymouth people than Squanto even ; and Hoba- \nmack stood in much closer relations to Massasoit than \nSquanto. His rival, therefore, shone with a borrowed \nlight most painful to Squanto. Consequently he seems \nto have set to work, much as an intriguing boy might \ndo at school, to undermine both Hobamack and Mas- \nsasoit, so as to leave himself supreme in the eyes of \nhis brother savages as the white man's Indian. His \nplot was a perfectly transparent one, and a good occa- \nsion for its development presented itself at the time \nof the April expedition of 1622, to Boston Bay. \n\nHobamack had already intimated to the magistrates \nhis suspicion of the Massachusetts Indians, repeating \nrumors as to some alliance between them and the \nNarragansetts, and hinting that suspicious whisper- \nings were going on between Squanto and his friends \noutside. In this way he .seems by degrees to have \nconjured up a conspiracy, with Squanto for the prime \nmover in it, the purpose of which was to get Standish \nand his party, during the expedition to the Massachu- \nsetts, away from their boat to some Indian village, \nunder a pretence of trading, and to fall upon them \nthere. There is no evidence that any such conspiracy \never existed except in the jealous brain of Hobamack ; \nand indeed the story of the subsequent settlement \nof Boston Bay shows very clearly that at this time \nit could not have existed. Nevertheless, naturally \nenough, considering the remote and oppressive soli- \ntude of the Plymouth settlement, the nervousness \nproved contagious, and even the magistrates took the \n\n\n38 SQUANTO'S STORY. April, \n\nalarm so that a meeting of notables was held and the \nsituation fully discussed. At this meeting Standish's \ncounsels seem to have prevailed, and a bold, even an \noutwardly defiant, course was decided upon. The ex- \npedition to Boston Bay was not to be abandoned or \neven postponed ; on the contrary, it was to be sent off \nat once, and both Squanto and Hobamack were to go \nwith it as guides. Accordingly, early in April, Stan- \ndish set sail, taking with him ten men and the two \nIndians. \n\nThen at last Squanto's plot, the result of his whis- \nperings and his mysterious comings and goings, re- \nvealed itself. Scarcely had the departing boat \nrounded the Gurnet, shaping its course to the north- \nward, than an Indian of Squanto's family, panting \nfor breath and with the blood trickling from a fresh \nwound on his face, came running in from the woods. \nMeeting some of the settlers who chanced to be out- \nside of the village, and looking back as if he expected \nto see the pursuers close at his heels, he called upon \nthem to get within the defences. He was immedi- \nately taken to Governor Bradford, and made out to say- \nthat not only the dreaded Corbitant but their sup- \nposed friend Massasoit were both close at hand, in \nleague with a body of Narragansetts to attack the \nplace in Standish's absence. Immediately the gates \nwere closed, every one repaired to his post, and three \nguns were fired as a signal for the expedition, if still \nwithin hearing, to return. Fortunately, the breeze \nhaving died away, Standish's party had found them- \nselves becalmed just beyond the Gurnet, and had \nthere come to anchor. As soon as they heard the \nalarm, therefore, they took to their oars and rowed \nback to the town, arming themselves and making \nready for the fight. \n\n\n1622. A FALSE ALARM. 39 \n\nPresently they landed, and the wounded Indian \nwas confronted with Hobamack. Then the truth began \nto leak out. Squanto had not calculated on the dying \naway of the wind before he and Hobamack were \nfairly off for the Massachusetts, and he had hoped ap- \nparently to embroil the settlers and the savages before \nmatters could be explained, thus kindling \" such a \nflame as would not easily be quenched.\" If this was \nhis plan, the return of Hobamack effectually spoiled \nit ; for no sooner did the latter hear the pretended \nfugitive's story than he stoutly insisted that it was \nfalse, declaring that, if any such conspiracy as that \nalleged reaUy were on foot, he could not but have \nknown it. Accordingly, as no hostile savages made \ntheir appearance, the alarm gradually subsided, and \nHobamack's squaw was sent out to make her way \nto Massasoit's village and ascertain what was going \non. Arriving there, she not only found everything \nperfectly quiet, but, apparently without in any way \nextenuating Squanto's conduct, she told the sachem \nof what had taken place at Plymouth, and thereby \nexcited his extreme indignation. Squanto's shallow \nscheme thus recoiled on himself. His object was, \nand is, apparent enough. He had gone about to \nbreed suspicion and fear between the colonists and \nMassasoit. He wanted no rivals near the Plymouth \nthrone. His conduct was not that of a spy ; indeed, \nit showed clearly enough that he was acting in collu- \nsion neither with Corbitant nor with Massasoit. He \nwas simply a very shallow intriguer who had got up \nan alarm, the utter groundlessness of which even he \nshould have seen could not long be concealed. Nat- \nurally he was the chief sufferer from it ; for, not only \ndid it shake the confidence of the settlers in him, but \n\n\n40 SQUANTO'S STORY. May, \n\nthrough it he incurred the dangerous enmity of Mas- \nsasoit ; and this, as by degrees the advantage he had \ntaken of the credulity of his less sophisticated fellows \ncame to light, just failed of costing Squanto his life. \n\nHe had \" sought his owne ends, and plaid his owne game, \nby putting the Indeans in fear, and drawing gifts from \nthem to enrich himselfe ; making them beleeve he could stur \nup warr against whom he would, and make peece for wliom \nhe would. Yea, he made them beleeve they kept the plague \nburied in the ground, and could send it amongs whom they \nwould, which did much terifie the Indeans, and made them \ndepend more on him, and seeke more to him than to Mas- \nsasoyte.'* \n\nBut in the matter of worldly cunning the God-fear- \ning elders of Plymouth, with all their simplicity, were \nfar more than a match for any savage ; so when, a \nlittle later on, it came to the question of surrendering \nSquanto to Massasoit under the provisions of their \ntreaty with the latter, they contrived to evade the \nobligation. At the same time they sedulously stimu- \nlated the jealousy between their two Indian guides, \nSquanto cleaving to Bradford for protection against \nMassasoit, while Hobamack attached himself to Stan- \ndish, so that \" the governor seemed to countenance the \none, and the captain the other, by which they had bet- \nter intelligence, and made them both more diligent.\" \n\nThe alarm into which Plymouth had been thrown \nresulted, therefore, in nothing except the loss to \nSquanto of much of the prestige he prized so highly, \nfor Governor Bradford reproved him sharply, and all \nthe neighboring Indians were cautioned against giving \nany credence to him. Nevertheless he was altogether \ntoo useful a person to be lightly cast off. He could \nnot yet be spared ; and so, when a few weeks later the \n\n\n1622. MASSASOIT'S ENMITY. 41 \n\nexpedition again set out for the Massachusetts, he \nwent with it. On its return after a successful but \nsomewhat tempestuous voyage, Massasoit himself was \nfound to be at Plymouth, having come there to ex- \nplain away the suspicions against himself, and at the \nsame time to take vengeance on Squanto. Governor \nBradford did his best to pacify his savage ally, but \nwas only very moderately successful in his efforts ; \nfor, though Massasoit went away himself, he no sooner \ngot home than he sent back a messenger asking that \nSquanto might be put to death. When this request \nwas not complied with, the persistent savage seems to \nhave again sent the messenger back to Plymouth, this \ntime in company with others on a sort of formal em- \nbassy, demanding the delivery to them of Squanto in \nconformity with the articles of the treaty entered into \nbetween the Plymouth people and himself a year be- \nfore. Things now assumed a very serious look for \nSquanto. The question of his delivery apparently \nrested with Governor Bradford, who seems not only \nto have felt the weight of the treaty obligations, but \nto have hesitated greatly at the danger of incurring \nthe enmity of Massasoit as the price of saving to the \nsettlement even so useful an instrument as its single \ninterpreter. The Indian messengers would not be put \noff; they said that the sachem had sent them there \nwith his own knife to kill Squanto, and they were en- \njoined to bring back his head and hands as evidence \nof his death. Seeing that the governor hesitated, \nthey offered a great number of beaver skins to obtain \nhis consent. These he declined ; but none the less \nBradford seems to have made up his mind that \nSquanto could not be saved, and he even took steps \npreparatory to abandoning him to his fate. Squanto \n\n\n42 SQUANTO'S STORY. May, \n\nmeanwhile seems to have demeaned himself in true \nIndian fashion. Being sent for, he made no effort to \nfly or hide, but came out, and, before the assembled \ncommunity and his savage pursuers, boldly accused \nHobamack of being the worker of his overthrow ; and \nthen yielded himself to the magistrates to be deliv- \nered up or not, as they should decide. \n\nThey decided to give him up ; but, just as he was \nabout to be surrendered into the hands of his execu- \ntioners, to the utter amazement of every one a strange \nboat was seen in the distance coming out from behind \nthe Gurnet, and slowly making its way across the har- \nbor's mouth. A miracle could hardly have been more \nopportune for Squanto, or excited greater surprise \namong those who were deliberating over his fate ; for \nit was now nearly eighteen months that the little com- \nmunity had been gazing in their deep isolation to sea^ \nward, and once only during that time had their eyes \nbeen gladdened by the gleam of an unfamiliar sail. \nSo the sudden appearance of a mere boat in the offing \nat just this time naturally excited unbounded surprise \nand hardly less alarm ; it seemed as if it must have \nsome hidden connection with Massasoit's demand, and \na rumor crept about the excited and anxious throng \nthat the boat contained Frenchmen from the Narra- \ngansett Bay, allies of the hostile savages; and Gov- \nernor Bradford told the emissaries that he must be \nsure what its presence might signify before the pris- \noner could be delivered to them. Fortunately for \nSquanto, they had by this time grown impatient ; per- \nhaps, also, the appearance of the strange sail may \nhave excited apprehensions in their minds as well ; in \nany event, \" being mad with rage, and impatient at \ndelay, they departed in great heat.\" \n\n\n1622. A PILOT. 43 \n\nSquanto's escape was a narrow one, and due to the \nmerest chance; for, as will presently be seen, the \nstrange boat contained merely some pioneers of tlie \nparty destined a few months later to attempt the first \nabortive settlement on the shores of Boston Bay, and \nits appearance had no connection with anything then \ngoing on at Plymouth. It was none the less most \nopportune, and Massasoit does not seem to have \nagain attempted to molest Squanto in Plymouth ; and \nSquanto took good care that he should have no oppor- \ntunity to lay hands on him outside of the settlement. \nNone the less, Squanto's time was approaching. The \nevents which have been described took place in May, \n1622. In July following, the party arrived which has \njust been referred to as attempting the first settlement \non Boston Bay, and established itself there in the \nearly autumn ; but, as will presently be seen, the im- \nprovidence of those composing it soon brought them \nto the verge of starvation. Nor were the Plymouth \npeople, owing to the shortness of their own harvest, \nin position to supply the wants of others. Under \nthese circumstances, towards the close of 1622, a joint \nexpedition in search of supplies was agreed upon, \nwhich Squanto undertook to pilot round Cape Cod to \nthe as yet unvisited south coast. According to his \nown account, he had twice before rounded the cape, \nonce with Dermer, and again, as he asserted, with a \nFrench party of which there is no record. He now \nseems to have piloted the expedition safely as far as \nthe shoals off Orleans, when the angry look of the \nocean in front terrified the master, and he hurriedly \nput into Chatham harbor, — Squanto, who had been \nthere three years before with Dermer, giving some \nslight direction. Here the voyage ended. Squanto \n\n\n44 SQUANTO'S STORY. Nov. \n\nwas still confident that he could take the vessel across \nthe shoals; and in this he had the support of the \nnatives, who said that large vessels had gone through. \nIt was accordingly determined to make one more at- \ntempt. But it was not to be. Squanto was the staff \nand the stay of the expedition, — its pilot, its inter- \npreter, its mediator. Without him it was impossible \nto proceed further, \" because the master's sufficiency \nwas much doubted, and the season very tempestuous, \nand not fit to go upon discovery, having no guide to \ndirect.\" And now, in the simple language of Brad- \nford, — \n\n\" In this place Squanto fell sick of an Indean feavor, \nbleeding much at the nose (which the Indeans take for a \nsimptome of death), and within a few days dyed ther ; de- \nsiring the Governor to pray for him, that he might goe to \nthe Englishmen's God in heaven, and bequeathed sundrie \nof his things to sundry of his English freinds, as remem- \nbrances of his love ; of whom they had a great loss.\" \n\n\nCHAPTER IV. \n\nWeston's \" rude fellows.\" \n\nThose in the boat, the sudden appearance of which \noff the entrance to Plymouth harbor had saved \nSquanto's life, were the forerunners of a larger party \nsent out by one Thomas Weston, \"a merchant of Lon- \ndon,\" to establish a plantation, or trading post, on \nthe shores of Boston Bay. Thomas Weston was well \nknown to the Plymouth people, for he had been one \nof the active promoters of the commercial enterprise \nwhich had led to their coming to New England, though \nhis connection with it, being of the pure money-mak- \ning kind, was, as the result showed, to the advantage of \nno one. He seems to have been a man of a type not \nuncommon in the days of Elizabeth and James L, — \nEnglish adventurers, half traders and half explorers, \nwho probably required the inducement only to ripen \ninto something closely resembling a freebooter. His \nhead was full of schemes for deriving great and sud- \nden gain from the settlement of the North American \ncoast, in regard to the possibilities of which he shared \nto the full all the sanguine faith of Raleigh, Gorges \nand Smith. Though he does not seem to have ever \nhimself visited the country prior to his coming in the \nyear 1623, there can be little doubt that he was fa- \nmiliar with the published accounts of it ; and in all \nprobability he had been concerned in fishing and \ntrading ventures to the Banks of Newfoundland and \n\n\n46 WESTON'S ''RUDE FELLOWS:' 1620. \n\nthe neighboring coasts. He may have prospered in \nthem. At all events, in 1620 he was possessed of \nsome means, and was eager to try his fortune in those \nparts in a more systematic way, and, for that time, \non a considerable scale. \n\nHe is first mentioned in the early chronicles of the \nPlymouth colony in connection with the proposed \ntransfer of a portion of the Kev. John Robinson's lit- \ntle congregation from their place of refuge in Holland \nto some point in North America. Weston was then \n(1619-20) the treasurer, as well as the agent and mov- \ning spirit, of the company calling itself the Merchant \nAdventurers of London. As such, and in its behalf, \nhe was lookins* about for the material with which to \neffect a permanent settlement for trading purposes \nsomewhere within the Virginia patent. He was not \nwithout personal knowledge of Robinson's people, \nhaving had dealings with certain of them in previ- \nous years ; and, though he could hardly have had \nany deep sympathy either with their religious view^s \nor their social aspirations, he had in some way be- \nfriended them. Being now refugees in Holland, they \nwere considering a scheme of settling under the Dutch \njurisdiction at New Amsterdam, as New York was \nthen called, when Weston, coming over to Leyden from \nLondon for the purpose, dissuaded them, making, on \nthe part of the Merchant Adventurers, liberal prom- \nises of aid in both ships and money as inducements for \nthem to cooperate with him and his associates. Sub- \nsequently the negotiation was transferred to London ; \nbut it did not move smoothly, and it required Mr. \nTreasurer Weston's utmost efforts to save the project \nfrom complete abandonment. His associates among \nthe Merchant Adventurers evidently had no confi- \n\n\n1620. THE MAYFLOWER. 47 \n\ndence in it, and, under one pretence or another, with- \ndrew their support. He was himself, in his utter dis- \ncouragement and disgust, repeatedly on the point of \ndoing the same; and if he had, there can be little doubt \nthat the Plymouth settlement would not have been \neffected when and where it was. Thus, whether what \nis now one of its most striking pages was to be alto- \ngether omitted from the history of America, depended \nthrough long weeks of the spring and summer of 1620 \non the wavering action of a London trader and specu- \nlator, — vulgar, obscure and mercenary. \n\nBut at last, seeing the extent to which both himself \nand the Leyden exiles were involved, Weston, in the \nwords of Governor Bradford, \" gathered up himself a \nlitle more,\" and in conjunction with Robert Cushman, \nthe agent of the exiles in London, took the decisive \nstep of chartering the Mayflower. It was already \nthe middle of June, and six weeks more of \" going up \nand downe, and wrangling and expostulating,\" were \nto try the patience of all before the Speedwell, on \nwhat is now the first day of August (1620), was got \nunder weigh at Delft-Haven to join the Mayflower at \nSouthampton, where the final details of the joint con- \ntract between the parties to the enterprise were to be \nagreed upon. A paper had been drawn up at an \nearly stage of the negotiation, in which the amounts \nto be contributed and the rights reserved on each ^le \nhad been set down ; but Weston and his associates \nwere disposed to take every advantage they could of \nthe necessities of the Leyden people. Step by step \ntheir demands became unconscionable, and Cushman, \nacting under a conviction that his so doing was abso- \nlutely necessary to secure their further cooperation, \nassumed the responsibility of altering the preliminary \n\n\n48 WESTON'S ''RUDE FELLOWS.\" 1G20-1. \n\nagreement in several important respects. Though \nCarver was in England at the time with Cushman, the \nchanges thus assented to by the latter do not seem \nto have come to his knowledge, or been communicated \nto the others, until the whole outward bound party \nreached Southampton ; then they refused point-blank \nto approve the agreement as altered. Weston, there- \nupon deeply incensed, returned to London, after \nplainly notifying the emigrants that they need look \nfor no further assistance from those whom he repre- \nsented, but must now \" stand on their owne leggs.\" \nHe was as good as his word ; and this, their first diffi- \nculty with Thomas Weston, cost the Pilgrims dear; \nfor, being in sad w^ant of funds and wholly unable to \nwait, they were compelled, in order to go on with their \nvoyage, to sell a part of their stores, finally setting \nout with scarcely \" any butter, no oyle, not a sole to \nmend a shoe, nor every man a sword to his side, \nwanting many muskets, much armoure, &c.\" \n\nAt last, though not until after what is now the \nmiddle of September, the Mayflower got finally well \nunder weigh. Weston seems then to have waited in \nthe firm belief that the lapse of a few weeks would \nwitness her return, freighted with the products of the \nNew World ; but it was eight long months before she \nbrought back anything from Plymouth, and then \nnoAing more substantial than tidings. Those whom \nshe carried out, struggling through the long winter \nagainst disease, due to want and aggravated by expo- \nsure, — seeing in the vast, dark wilderness which sur- \nrounded and crushed them not even the face of a sav- \nage, — had naturally found little opportunity to trade. \nThis, Weston in no way realized ; and accordingly by \nthe next vessel, the Fortune, which set sail in July, \n\n\n1621. A HARSH REBUKE. 49 \n\na few weeks after the return of the Mayflower, he did \nnot fail to send out a long letter in which he again \nrecounted his grounds of complaint. Especially did \nhe dwell on the return of the Mayflower empty, — \nthe last, and in his eyes the most inexcusable, short- \ncoming of the Pilgrims. \n\n\" That you sent,\" he wrote, \" no lading in the ship is \nwonderfull, and worthily distasted. I know your weaknes \nwas the cause of it, and I beleeve more weaknes of judg- \nmente then weaknes of hands. A quarter of the time you \nspente in discoursing, arguing and consulting would have \ndone much more. . . . And consider that the life of the \nbussines depends on the lading of this ship, which, if you \ndoe to any good purpose, that I may be freed from the \ngreat sums I have disbursed for the former, and must doe \nfor the later, I promise you I wiU never quit the bussines, \nthough all the other adventurers should.\" \n\nThe vulgar adventurer addressed this harsh rebuke \nto the gentle and high-minded Carver ; but, when he \nwrote it, Carver had been already three months dead. \nBradford had succeeded him as governor, and as such \nhe returned to Weston's missive a pathetic and digni- \nfied reply : — \n\n\" At great charges in this adventure, I confess you have \nbeene, and many losses may sustaine ; but the loss of his \n[Carver] and many other honest and industrious mens lives \ncannot be vallewed at any prise. Of the one, ther may be \nhope of recovery, but the other no recompence can make \ngood. But I will not insiste in generalls, but come more \nperticulerly to the things themselves. You greatly blame \nus for keping the ship so long in the countrie, and then to \nsend her away emptie. She lay five weks at Caj^-Codd, \nwhilst with many a weary step (after a long journey) and \nthe indurance of many a hard brunte, we sought out in the \nfoule winter a place of habitation. Then we went in so \n\n\n50 WESTON'S ''RUDE FELLOWS^ 1621. \n\ntedious a time to make provission to sheelter us and our \ngoods, aboute wliicli labour many of our amies and leggs can \ntell us to this day we were not necligent. But it pleased \nGod to vissite us then, with death dayly, and with so generall \na disease, that the living were scarce able to burie the dead ; \nand the well not in any measure sufficiente to tend the sick. \nAnd now to be so greatly blamed, for not fraighting the \nshij), doth indeed goe near us, and much discourage us. \nBut you say you know we will pretend weaknes ; and doe \nyou think we had not cause ? Yes, you tell us you beleeve \nit, but it was more weaknes of judgmente, then of hands. \nOur weaknes herin is great we confess, therefore we will \nbear this check patiently amongst the rest, till God send us \nwiser men. But they which tould you we spent so much \ntime in discoursing and consulting, &c., their harts can tell \ntheir toungs, they lye.\" \n\nAt the close of the letter to which this was the \nreply, Weston had called upon the settlers to assent \nto the agreement, about the terms of which there had \nbeen so much dispute at Southampton. Cushman, \nwho had come over in the Fortune and seems always \nto have acted with Weston, urged them to comply, \nand he was supported by letters from those at Ley- \nden : so at last, in the hope of getting further aid in \ntheir present sore need, Bradford and the rest yielded \nthe points at issue. They signed their names to the \namended agreement, and sent it out by the Fortune, \nwhich was despatched on her return voyage upon the \n13th of December ; nor, in their eager desire to con- \nciliate their London partners, did they fail to find a \nreturn carsro for her. She went back loaded with \nclapboards, besides two hogsheads filled with the skins \nof the beaver and otter. But so far as Weston was \nconcerned, both the signing of the agreement and the \nstrenuous effort to load the vessel resulted in nothing ; \n\n\n1622. A PIONEER PARTY. 51 \n\nfor, in spite of his strong assurances of continued aid, \n**h* was the first and only man that forsook them, \nand that before he so much as heard of the return of \nthis ship or knew what was done.\" \n\nIt was the middle of February, 1621-2, before the \nFortune reached England, and Weston had then al- \nready severed his connection with the Merchant Ad- \nventurers. The cause of his so doing is neither clear \nnor of moment, though there would seem to have been \ntrouble in the organization, and a probably not un- \nfounded distrust of Treasurer Weston. He, too, was \nevidently alarmed at the extent to which he had per- \nsonally become involved in the Plymouth enterprise, \nand was not indisposed to secure himself from loss, \n— if need be, at the cost of his partners. His idea \nseems to have been to send out a private expedition \nof his own, with a view to reaping the benefit, on his \nindividual account, of whatever those of Plymouth \nhad acquired in the way either of experience or of \nprofit. Accordingly, as early as January, 1621-2, \nhe and one other of the Adventurers, a Mr. Beau- \nchamp by name, purchased a small vessel, called the \nSparrow, and fitted her out for a fishing and trading \nvoyage ; designing her to be the forerunner of a more \nconsiderable expedition which they proposed to send \nout a few weeks later. The company on board the \nSparrow included a few men who were engaged to \nleave the vessel on her arrival at the fishing stations \non the coast of Maine, and thence to find their way \nby boat to Plymouth, looking up as they went along \nsome convenient place in which to fix a settlement. \n\nThe Sparrow arrived at the Damariscove Islands \nearly in May, and the party destined for Plymouth \nprepared to finish their voyage in an open boat.^ The \n1 IV. Mass. Hist. Coll. iv. 478. \n\n\n52 WESTON'S ''RUDE FELLOWS:' May, \n\nreckless want of foresight which characterized all \nWeston's undertakings then became manifest,*- for \nnone of the men composing this party knew anything \nof the coast they were to skirt along, nor had any- \npilot been provided. Not only were they expected to \nfind their own way to Plymouth, but it had been taken \nfor granted that they would there be supplied with \nwhatever they might need until the arrival of the main \nexpedition. The master of the Sparrow not being able \nto procure any pilot, his mate, who seems to have been \na dare-devil English sailor, volunteered, and under his \nguidance the pioneers set out. They touched at the \nIsles of Shoals, and then at Cape Ann. Thence they \nstruck across to Massachusetts, or Boston, Bay, where \nthey passed some four or five days exploring. They \nnow selected for the proposed plantation a site on the \nsouth side of the bay, as in that vicinity they found \nthe fewest natives ; and then, becoming gradually op- \npressed by the vastness of the surrounding solitude, \nwhich day by day seemed to bring home to them a \nmore realizing sense of the smallness of their own \nnumber, the party determined to go on to Plymouth. \nFrom lack of acquaintance with the coast the har- \nbor's mouth was missed ; but, as the boat was crossing \nfrom the Gurnet to Manomet, it was sighted in the \noffing, and guns were fired as a signal. Hearing \nthem, the adventurers changed their course and stood \nin. They had arrived just in time to be the acciden- \ntal means of saving Squanto's life, in the way already \ndescribed. \n\nThe sense of relief at Plymouth was naturally great \nwhen -it became known that the sudden apparition of \nthe strange boat had no connection with any Indian \ntroubles. Those who came in it, too, brought letters \n\n\n1622. SHORT COMMONS. 63 \n\nand tidiugs from home, thus breaking a silence of \nnearly a year ; so, destitute though the newcomers \nwere, they were cordially welcomed by the scarcely less \ndestitute settlers. But the letters, long looked for, \nwere found, when read, to contain cold comfort, — so \ncold, indeed, that the magistrates kept it to themselves. \nThey brought tidings of dissension among the Mer- \nchant Adventurers, and made it plain that little fur- \nther assistance was to be looked for from that source. \nThere was also a vagueness, a \" shufling\" as Bradford \nexpressed it, in the tone of these letters, suggestive \nof something underhand ; while Weston's scheme for \nsecuring to himself, by means of another and rival \nsettlement, the fruits of their own patient endurance, \nwas but thinly veiled under professions of friendliness \nand mutual assistance. \n\nNevertheless, for the time being there was but one \nthing to do. It was out of the question to bid the \nnewcomers be gone; so they were kindly received, \nand still further reduced the short commons then pre- \nvailing at Plymouth. Indeed, the immediate necessi- \nties were at this time so pressing that it was decided a \nparty under Edward WinsloW should accompany the \nSparrow's shallop on its return to the Damariscove \nfishing stations, and endeavor there to procure some \nsupplies. Nor was this mission wholly unsuccessful. \nThe fishing vessels were, it was true, not over-well \nprovided themselves ; but the story of want and pa- \ntient endurance, now told, so moved the not over-ac- \ntive sympathies of the rough mariners that they vied \nwith each other in sending the settlers, without price, \neverything they could possibly spare ; and the provi- \nsion thus obtained sufficed, when doled out under the \ncareful husbanding of the magistrates, to keep the \n\n\n64 WESTON'S ''RUDE FELLOWS.\" 1622. \n\nsettlement alive until after the harvest. Besides sav- \ning Squanto's life, therefore, the arrival of Weston's \nshallop had served still another useful end. It was a \nrevelation, as it were, to the Plymouth people of a \nnew and before apparently undreamed-of means of \ncommunication with mankind. The Damariscove sta- \ntions were only some forty leagues from Plymouth, \nand each season they were resorted to by as many as \nthirty sail. The forlorn Pilgrims now for the first \ntime learned their way thither. Subsequently they \nnot only opened through this channel a tolerably reg- \nular intercourse with their friends in London and \nLeyden, but at a somewhat later day they established \na permanent station of their own on the Kennebec, \nwhere Augusta now is, and there for years carried on \na profitable trade. \n\nMeanwhile, in London, his associates in the Mer- \nchant Adventurers had got rid of Weston by buying \nout his interest in the company, and he was busy fit- \nting out his own expedition ; though, as usual, with \nmore energy than judgment. He bought two vessels, \nthe Charity, of one hundred tons, and the Swan, of \nthirty. His plan was to have the Charity make voy- \nages to and fro across the Atlantic ; she was to carry \nmen and supplies out, bringing back fish, furs and the \nother products of his New England El Dorado. The \nsmaller vessel meanwhile was to remain at his pro- \nposed settlement, to enable his agents there the better \nto trade along the coast. So far his scheme was well \ndevised ; but, when it came to organizing it, he showed \nboth lack of discretion and complete ignorance of the \nconditions essential to success. Himself an ingrained \nadventurer, eager for gain and over-confident in all \nthings, he was out of all patience with the discoursing, \n\n\n1622. ''STOUT KNAVES.\" ' 55 \n\narguing and consulting of the Plymouth people. He \ncared nothing for religious freedom in the present, \nor an empire's future growth. What he wanted was \ntrade ; and he wanted it now. He was convinced, ac- \ncordingly, that the Ley den expedition had been made \nup of unsuitable material, and organized on a wrong \nplan. Not only had it been encumbered with women \nand children, but its material outlook had been subor- \ndinated to religious considerations. In his own enter- \nprise he proposed to have no repetition of these mis- \ntakes. No families, no women and children, were to \nbe sent out ; only able-bodied men. These, too, were \nto be under the immediate direction of his own agents, \nwho were to have a constant eye to trade, and trade \nalone. \n\nAs he did not propose to go out himself until an- \nother year, he put the expedition under the charge of \nhis brother Andrew, and his brother-in-law, one Rich- \nard Greene. Of Greene nothing is known. Andrew \nWeston is described ^ as a headstrong, hot-tempered \nyoung fellow, very prejudiced, on his brother's ac- \ncount, against both the Plymouth people and the \nMerchant Adventurers. Clearly he was without ex- \nperience, and in no way fitted for the work in hand. \n\nHaving thus provided a head for his enterprise, \nWeston next went to work on its bone and sinew. \nApparently he proceeded much after the fashion of a \nrecruiting-officer, or some ship-agent picking up a \nlarge crew, for he seems to have sent out into the \nstreets and alleys of London, and engaged all the \nable-bodied men who, having nothing else to do, of- \nfered themselves. He himself referred to his com- \npany as being largely made up of \"rude fellows,\" \n\n1 Bradford, 120. \n\n\n66 WESTON'S \"RUDE FELLOWS.\" 1622. \n\nwhose profaneness might scandalize their outward \nvoyage ; while Thomas Morton, who probably accom- \npanied the party, described them as \" stout knaves \" \nand \"men made choice of at all adventures,\" or, in \nother words, as a gang of vagabonds collected at hap- \nhazard.i Meanwhile the London correspondents of \nthe Plymouth people took care to advise them of the \nimpending visitation. \n\nAs it was Weston's plan to trade exclusively on his \nown account, it was obviously his interest to cultivate \nfriendly relations with the colonists, for if possible he \nwanted to prevent their looking upon his enterprise \nas in any way antagonistic to their own. Accordingly \nhe seems to have tried to prevent any letters or infor- \nmation reaching those at Plymouth by his vessels ; \nbut, in this, he was overreached by two of his former \nassociates in the company of Merchant Adventurers, \nEdward Pickering and William Greene, who, getting \nhold of one of his men, induced him to take charge \nof a letter from them to Bradford, warning the latter \nof Weston's probable design, and of the low and \nmercenary character of his people. For the purpose \nof more surely concealing this missive, its bearer was \ndirected to buy a pair of shoes, and sew it in between \nthe soles. In some way Weston got wind of the \nthing and intercepted the letter, which he did not \nhesitate to open and read,^ and there found himself \ndescribed as one whom his former associates in the \n\n1 N. E. Canaan, 106, 117. \n\n2 It will not do to regard the opening of this letter as additional \nevidence of Weston's low and unscrupulous character. That method \nof gaining information seems in the seventeenth century to have been \nregarded as perfectly justifiable. On certain noteworthy occasions \nneither Bradford nor Governor Winthrop hesitated to have recourse \nto it. (See Bradford, 173, and Winthrop, i. *57.) \n\n\n1622. \"A GOOD PAWNE.\" 67 \n\nMerchant Adventurers' Company were glad to be rid \nof, — \" being a man that thought himselfe above the \ngeneral!, and not expresing so much the fear of God \nas was meete,\" — while his brother Andrew was set \ndown as \" a heady yong man, and violente.\" His \npurpose, it was further explained, was to get anything \nwhich might be in readiness for shipment at Plymouth \ninto his vessels, and to appropriate it to his own use. \nThough he opened this letter, Weston neither sup- \npressed nor destroyed it. On the contrary, content- \ning himself with an indignant denial of the impu- \ntations on his purpose and good faith, he forwarded \nletter and commentary together to those to whom the \nfirst was addressed. One other letter was also smug:- \ngled over at the same time. It was from Robert \nCushman to Governor Bradford, though it had the \nappearance of being written by a wife in England to \nher husband at Plymouth, and found its way to its \ndestination without being intercepted. It confirmed \nthe warning intimations of Pickering and Greene. In \nthis letter, too, Weston's former ally, not to say tool, \nin his hagglings with the Plymouth people, evinced a \nshrewd, trading instinct altogether in advance of any- \nthing of the sort which Weston was disposed to con- \ncede to his old associates. Said he : — \" If they [Wes- \nton's people] off err to buy anything of you, let it be \nshuch as you can spare, and let them give the worth \nof it. If they borrow anything of you, let them leave \na good pawne.\" On the back of the same letter was \na postscript from another friendly hand, in which the \nestimate held by Weston and Morton of those com- \nposing their company was further confirmed ; the writer \ndescribing them as \" so base in condition (for the most \nparte) as in aU apearance not fitt for an honest mans \ncompany.\" \n\n\n68 WESTON'S \"RUDE FELLOWS:' June, \n\nThe fact of Weston's forwarding the letter from \nPickering and Greene after it once came into his \nhands is strong evidence that he never had any such \nknavish phm as they imputed to him. It would rather \nseem to have been his purpose from the beginning to \nestablish a plantation and private trading-post some- \nwhere in what was then known as the Massachusetts \nBay ; and he certainly had a patent covering a grant \nof territory there, obtained probably, though it is not \nextant and nothing is now known regarding it, from \nthe Council for New England. Bradford says that \nWeston's attention had been drawn to Boston Bay \nthrough letters from Plymouth in which Standish's \nSeptember explorations there had been described. He \nhad also undoubtedly heard of it from William Tre- \nvore. This man, it will be remembered, was among \nStandish's companions in the expedition of 1621. He \nhad come out in the Mayflower, not as one of the \nPlymouth company, but under an engagement to stay \nin the country a year ; and, his year ending in No- \nvember, 1621, he returned to England on the Fortune, \nreaching London some time in February, 1621-2. \nThe Sparrow, carrying Weston's advanced party, had \nsailed a month before, and the Charity and Swan, with \nhis main company, followed about two months later. \nIn all probability, therefore, Weston's patent was taken \nout in March in consequence of information obtained \nfrom Trevore, who at about the same time also de- \nscribed the places he had visited to David Thomson, \nan agent of the Council for New England, likewise \nthen turning over in his mind a plan of emigration.^ \nThere can, accordingly, be little doubt that Weston's \nexpedition was destined to Boston Bay; and it may \n1 Proc. Mass. Hist. Soc. May, 1876, 361, 373. \n\n\n1622. THREESCORE ''LUSTY'' MEN. 59 \n\neven have been something more than chance which, \nduring the mouth of May, carried to those parts the \nadvance party from the Sparrow, though they un- \ndoubtedly had left England before any news of Stan- \ndish's explorations could have reached there. \n\nThe Charity and the Swan left London in company \nabout the middle of April, 1622, and reached Plym- \nouth towards the end of June, or during the early \ndays of July. Andrew Weston was apparently in \ncharge of the larger ship ; and there is reason to sup- \npose that he took with him Thomas Morton, already \nmentioned, a sport-loving lawyer of Clifford's Inn, as \nwell as a born adventurer and humorist. The Char- \nity was bound for Virginia as well as Plymouth; \nand, stopping at the latter place only long enough to \nland her portion of the threescore \" lusty \" men \nwho made up the body of Weston's company, she pro- \nceeded on her voyage. Whether Andrew Weston \nwent in her docs not appear ; but Richard Greene re- \nmained at Plymouth, and speedily started off in the \nSwan to Boston Bay for the purpose of there arrang- \ning for the reception of the others, while Morton, who \nhad also remained, apparently accompanied him.^ \nThe great body of their followers they left at Plym- \nouth, where they soon began to show themselves for \nwhat they were, — a helpless, improvident, and un- \nruly crew. A number of them were sick and required \nto be nursed, — a new burden imposed upon the al- \nready overworked women, — while the rest developed \n\n1 Morton's statement is as follows : \" In the Moneth of lune, \nAnno Saliitis 1G22, it was my chaunce to arrive in the parts of New \nEng-land with 30. Servants, and provision of all sorts fit for a plan- \ntation : and whiles our howses were huilding-, I did indeavour to take \na survey of the Country.\" {New English Canaan, 59; see, also, \nPrince Soc. ed. 6.) \n\n\n60 WESTON'S ''RUDE FELLOWS.'' July, \n\na decided disinclination for labor, combined (for it \nwas now July) with a marked appreciation of Indian \ncorn, which they found, though green and unprofit- \nable, very \" eatable and pleasant to taste ; \" not that \nthose who planted the corn were negligent in watch- \ning it, or that the magistrates were slow in meting out \npunishment to the transgressors, but, \" though many \nwere well whipt for a few ears of corne, yet hunger \nmade others to venture.\" Under these circumstances, \nwhat with sickness and fasting and flogging, there \nwas nothing to occasion surprise in the fact that \nneither planter nor pilgrim thereafter recalled the \nmemory of that summer at Plymouth with gratifica- \ntion. The latter looked anxiously forward to the day \nwhen God in his providence would disburden them of \nthe former ; while the former requited with a language \nrather of reviling than of gratitude the stern, unsym- \npathetic care expended upon them. \n\nAt length, apparently some time in August, the \nSwan reappeared from Boston Bay. Greene and his \nparty had, it would seem, been received in the most \nfriendly way by the Indians, who, few in numbers and \ncowed in spirit, gladly welcomed those whom they \nhoped would prove their protectors against still pow- \nerful neighbors ; for their dealings with the Plymouth \npeople had removed from the minds of the Massachu- \nsetts all fears of the whites, and they were sincerely \nanxious to have a permanent settlement near them ; \nindeed, they had already begged Standish to establish \none. Weston's agents therefore, so far as a location \nwas concerned, had but to choose.^ Exchanging pres- \nents with Aberdecest, the local sachem, they finally \nchose for their place of settlement a site known by the \n1 Young, Chron. of Pilg. 298 ; iv. Mass. Hist. Coll. iv. 481. \n\n\n1622. WESSA GUSSE T. 61 \n\nIndians as Wessagusset, near the mouth of a little \nstream called the Monatiquot, which empties into one \nof the southern estuaries of Boston Bay.^ While the \nfewness of the Indians in the immediate vicinity was \nundoubtedly a consideration, the choice of this spot \nwas probably due quite as much to the fact that it lay \nsouth of all the principal streams separating the Mas- \nsachusetts from the Plymouth territory, thus making \nintercourse by land between the settlements compara- \ntively easy. The site of the new plantation having \nbeen fixed upon and the necessary preparations made, \nprompt measures were taken for the transfer thither \nof all those of the company who were well enough to \nbe moved ; for a number of them had still to be left \nbehind under the care of that Samuel Fuller already \nmentioned, who, from the time of the first landing to \n1634, was the surgeon and physician at Plymouth, \nand, as such, was \"a great help and comforte unto \nthem ; as in his facultie, so otherwise, being a deacon \nof the church, a man godly and forward to doe good.\" \nDr. Fuller's treatment seems in the present case to \nhave proved successful ; for, later in the season, the \ninvalids joined their companions at Wessagusset. The \nCharity had meanwhile returned from Virginia ; and \nnow Weston's enterprise might be looked upon as \nfairly started. \n\nBut scarcely were the newcomers seated in the place \nthey had chosen than ominous rumors began to reach \nPlymouth, the poor Massachusetts complaining bit- \nterly of them, alleging abusive treatment and theft. \nIt was not in the power of the Plymouth magistrates \n\n1 The site of Weston's settlement was found indicated on Win- \nthrop's map of 1634, discovered in London by Henry F. Waters. It \nwas immediately north of the g-laeial ridge known as Hunt's Hill on \nthe south side of the Weymouth Fore-river. Proc. Mass. Hist. Soc. \nSeries II. vii. 24-30. \n\n\n62 WESTON'S ''RUDE FELLOWSr Nov. \n\nto do more in the premises than offer anxious remon- \nstrances ; and these, it hardly needs to be said, were \nof little avail. Thus matters went on until early in \nOctober. The Charity then returned to England, \nAndrew Weston and Thomas Morton, it would seem, \ngoing in her, while Richard Greene was left in charge \nof the plantation. He was, it is said, fairly provided \nwith supplies ; but he does not seem to have been \ncompetent, and his followers were wasteful. Accord- \ningly while the Charity was still almost within sound- \nings, and before the winter's ice had begun to make, \nthere was scarcity at Wessagusset. Realizing at last \nthe situation, and his own lack of capacity to deal \nwdth it, Greene wrote to Bradford proposing a joint \nexpedition in search of food, — he furnishing the \nvessel, while the Plymouth people were to provide \ncommodities for barter. A written agreement was \nentered into on this basis, and by the middle of Octo- \nber everything was in readiness for a voyage to the \nsouth side of Cape Cod. But the expedition seemed \nfated. At first Greene, who had gone down to Plym- \nouth on the Swan, fell suddenly ill there and died. \nHe was succeeded in command at Wessagusset by a \nman named John Saunders, who was apparently even \nmore incompetent than his predecessor. Still, realiz- \ning the pressure of growing want, Saunders' first act \nin authority seems to have been the writing of another \nletter to Plymouth urging the immediate prosecution \nof the voyage. So, as soon as might be after burying \nGreene, the Swan was started off, Standish going in \ncommand and Squanto acting as pilot. This was the \nexpedition referred to at the close of the preceding \nchapter, — that in the course of which Squanto died. \nIt did not start until after the month of November \n\n\n1622. \"DANGEROUS SHOULDS.\" 63 \n\nhad begun, according to the present calendar, and the \nseason was late for a passage round Cape Cod. The \nSwan therefore encountered easterly winds and heavy- \nweather, and was forced to put back. Again the \nparty started ; and again it was compelled to return. \nThe combined exposure, fatigue and anxiety seem to \nhave proved too much even for Standish, who now \nbroke down under an attack of fever and gave up the \ncommand, Bradford taking his place. The outlook \nwas bad. Though it was yet not the close of Novem- \nber, — though the winter was wholly before them, — \nthe want was hardly less severe at Plymouth than at \nWessagu^et. Indeed, it is probable that the scarcity \nwas greatest at Plymouth ; but in that patient, frugal \nand well-ordered community everything was eked out \nto the utmost, while at Wessagusset little thought was \nbestowed on the morrow. But frugality and patience \ncould only mitigate the growing need, and the Plym- \nouth people required no urging from without to be- \nstir themselves ; so once more the expedition started, \nbut only to give those composing it a rough experi- \nence of the \" dangerous shoulds and roring breakers \" \nwhich two years before had frightened the captain of \nthe Mayflower into Provincetown, and which have \nsince made what is called the back side of Cape Cod \na terror to mariners. At last they found themselves \noff Monomoy Point, on Pollock's Rip, and were in no \nlittle danger of foundering ; but the wind and tide \napparently favored them, and the master of the Swan, \nthoroughly frightened, was glad enough to find him- \nself safe in Chatham harbor. Here a party landed, \nand Bradford, through the medium of Squanto, en- \ndeavored to establish friendly relations with the Indi- \nans. These were few in number, and at first very \n\n\n64 WESTON'S ''RUDE FELLOWS^ Nov. \n\nshy ; but when at last they were persuaded the stran- \ngers only wished to trade, they overcame their fear \nsufficiently to give them some venison and other food, \nand in the course of a day or two their bartering in- \nstincts were sufficiently worked, upon to induce them \nto part with eight hogsheads of corn and beans from \ntheir scanty store. Encouraged by this success, the \nparty determined to attempt once more the southern \npassage, but Squanto's illness and sudden death, \nwhich have already been described, put an end to the \nproject by depriving the party at once of its pilot and \nits interpreter ; so, the wind setting in the right quar- \nter, they rounded Cape Cod again and laid their \ncourse directly for Boston Bay. Here they got noth- \ning. Not only did they find the savages suffering \nfrom a new outbreak of the pestilence, but the poor \ncreatures were bitter in their complaints of the Wes- \nsagusset people. They were not only dying daily, but \nthey were daily robbed. Nor was this all. Weston's \noutspoken contempt for the trading capacity of Plym- \nouth people to the contrary notwithstanding, it was \napparent that the ignorance of his own representatives \nhad spoiled the market. They gave as much for a \nquart of corn as had before sufficed to buy a beaver \nskin. \n\nLeaving Boston Bay, the expedition now went to \nthe inside of Cape Cod, to see if anything could be \npicked up along the shores of what are now the towns \nof Eastham, Yarmouth and Barnstable. The stormy \nweather continued, and the Swan was at one time in \nno little danger of being cast away ; indeed, the shal- \nlop which the Plymouth people had brought along, to \ncarry what was bought from the shore to the* vessel, \nwas swept off, and so damaged that, when found al- \n\n\n1622-3. A MIDWINTER TRAMP. 65 \n\nmost buried in the sand, it was no longer serviceable. \nAs there was no carpenter in the party, it became \nnecessary to leave both corn and boat in charge of the \nnatives until at some other time they could return and \nfetch them away. The partners now separated. In- \nasmuch as some twenty-eight or thirty hogsheads of \ncorn and beans had been secured, the expedition \ncould not, in view of the rough weather which had \nbeen encountered, be considered otherwise than suc- \ncessfid. It would seem, nevertheless, that either the \ndiscomfort on board the Swan must have been very \ngreat, or the company little congenial ; for, rather than \ngo back in her. Governor Bradford and his party, \nsending word to those on board to meet them at \nPlymouth, set out on foot for a fifty-mile midwinter \ntramp home. They presently arrived there safe, \nthough weary and footsore, and, three days later, the \nSwan made her appearance. An equal division was \nmade of the food the expedition had secured, and the \nWessagusset party returned to their plantation ; but \nin January another joint expedition started for East- \nbam, Standish, who had meanwhile recovered, being \nnow in command. Besides being stormy, it was bit- \nterly cold, and the suffering from exposure was aggra- \nvated by insufficiency of food ; but the shallop lost in \nNovember was recovered, and a portion of the supplies \nthen collected was secured. Another division was \nmade, and once more the Swan returned to her moor- \nings in the Weymouth fore-river. \n\nAffairs at Wessagusset now rapidly went from bad \nto worse. From the beginning to the end, those living \nthere merely demeaned themselves after the manner \nof their kind. Upon their first arrival, seeing the \nweakness of the plague-stricken savages and conscious \n\n\n66 WESTON'S ''RUDE FELLOWS.\" 1623. \n\nof their own strength, they had been arrogant and \nabusive. It was said that they meddled with the \nIndian women ; what was far worse in the savages' \neyes, they had certainly stolen their corn. As the win- \nter increased in its severity, so did the scarcity, and \nat last gaunt famine stared the settlers in the face. \nMeanwhile their bearing towards the savages had \npassed from one extreme to the other. Day by day \ntheir arrogance and self-confidence vanished, until, \nceasing by degrees to be careless purchasers, they ap- \npeared as naturally as possible in the more congenial \ncharacter of cunning thieves. Stricken, and but the \nshadows of their former selves though they were, the \nMassachusetts Indians soon realized what this change \nmeant, and their demeanor altered accordingly. From \ncowering before the whites they began to despise them \nand domineer over them. \n\nAlarmed at the threatening aspect of affairs, Saun- \nders towards the middle of February renewed his ef- \nforts to purchase food. The Indians refused to sell, \nsaying — no doubt truly enough — they had none to \nspare. Then he determined to take by force what he \ncould get in no other way, and began to prepare for \nthe hostilities sure to ensue. The plantation at Wes- \nsagusset, like that at Plymouth, seems to have con- \nsisted of a few rude log buildings surrounded by a \npale, or stockade, in which were several entrances pro- \ntected by gates. This stockade was now strengthened \nand perfected, and all the entrances save one secured. \nBut, before resorting to open violence, Saunders had \nsufficient good sense to let the Plymouth people know \nwhat he intended. They had at least to be put upon \ntheir guard. Accordingly he sent a letter to Gov- \nernor Bradford informino: him of the severe straits \n\n\n1623. A REMONSTRANCE. 67 \n\nthey were in at Wessagusset, and of what they pro- \nposed to do. Restitution at some future time of what- \never might now be taken was, of course, promised. \n\nSuch an unprovoked outrage as that now suggested \ncould not fail to complicate very dangerously the rela- \ntions between the Plymouth people and the natives. \nSeriously alarmed. Governor Bradford at once called \nthe elders into council, and among them they drew up \nan answer to Saunders' communication, but addressed \nto his company as a whole, which they all signed. In \nit they labored in characteristic fashion to divert \nthose to whom they were writing from the course pro- \nposed. They gravely pointed out that this course was \nnot only in contravention of the laws of God and of \nnature, but that it was calculated to bring to nought \nKing James' policy, both as respects the enlargement \nof his dominions and \" the propagation of the know- \nledge and law of God, and the glad tidings of salva- \ntion \" among the heathen. Leaving high considera- \ntions of state and religion, they then came to particu- \nlars. The attention of those at Wessag^usset was \ncalled to the fact that their case was no worse, if so \nbad, as that of Plymouth, where they had but little \ncorn left, and were compelled to sustain life on ground- \nnuts, clams and mussels ; \" all which they [at Wessa- \ngusset] had in great abundance, — yea, oysters also, \nwhich we [at Plymouth] wanted.\" Therefore, it was \nargued, the plea of necessity could not be maintained. \nBut, finally, those who put their names to the paper \ncame to the real point in the case, and flatly informed \ntheir neighbors that, in case recourse was had to vio- \nlence, those guilty of the violence would have to take \ncare of themselves, and need look for no support from \nPlymouth ; and, moreover, if they escaped the savages \n\n\n68 WESTON'S \"RUDE FELLOWS.\" March. \n\nthey would not escape the gallows as soon as some \nspecial agent of the crown should come over to inves- \ntigate the proceeding. In addition to this general \nand public reply, Bradford by the same messenger \nwrote privately to Saunders, warning him that he, as \nthe recognized head of the company, would be held to \na personal accountability, no matter who else might \nescape ; and so, in a friendly way, advised him to de- \nsist in time. \n\nThese energetic remonstrances had the desired ef- \nfect, and, abandoning all idea of force, Saunders now \ndetermined to start at once for the fishing stations at \nMonhegan, there to procure food. Before doing so \nhe first went to Plymouth ; and the utterly destitute \ncondition of his jiarty was made plain by the fact that \nthe supplies on hand did not suffice to victual a crew \nfor the Swan on a short voyage of some forty leagues \nto the coast of Maine. Leaving her, therefore, at \nWessagusset, Saunders set out, though the winter \ncould not- yet be said to be over, in an open shallop, \nGovernor Bradford letting him have a small supply \nof corn. Considering the season, the coast and the \nfrail craft in which he went, the attempt was a peril- \nous one, and whether he ever reached his destination \ndoes not appear, for his name is not again mentioned. \nCertainly he never returned to Wessagusset. Per- \nhaps, finding himself unable to obtain supplies at the \nfishing stations, he had stayed there awaiting the ar- \nrival of the fleet, rightly thinking it worse than use- \nless for him to go back empty-handed. \n\n\nCHAPTER V. \n\nTHE WESSAGUSSET HANGING. \n\nA FEW days after Saunders left for Monhegan, \nStandish set out on another of his winter excursions \nin search of food, going to Manomet, in what is now \nSandwich. During the expedition of the previous \nNovember, Governor Bradford had bought some corn \nat this place, but, owing to the loss of the shallop, had \nbeen unable to ship it. He had accordingly left it in \ncharge of the savages ; and this corn Standish now \nmeant to bring away. Leaving some two or three \nmen in charge of his shallop, and taking with him as \nmany more, he landed and went some distance inland \nto the habitation of Canacum, the local sachem. He \nhad not been there loug before he noticed that he was \nmuch less hospitably treated than Bradford had been, \nand presently a couple of Massachusetts Indians made \ntheir appearance, — one of whom, Wituwamat by \nname, the Plymouth men well knew. A significant \ninterview between him and Canacum then took place \nin Standish' s presence. \n\nTalking violently and incoherently in his Indian \ndialect, Wituwamat drew a knife, which hung about \nhis neck, from its sheath, and presented it to his host. \nHe spoke, as it subsequently appeared, of the outrages \nperpetrated on the natives at Wessagusset, and of a \nconspiracy which had been formed to destroy the set- \ntlement there. The object of his visit now was to in- \n\n\n70 THE WESSAGUSSET HANGING. March, \n\nduce the Cape Cod Indians to join in it, and he was \nurging Canacum to take advantage of the occasion, \nwhich so unexpectedly offered, to cut off Standish and \nhis party. The knife about his neck was one which \nhe had obtained from Weston's people.^ \n\nIt is, of course, impossible to form any estimate of \nthe military capacity of Miles Standish, for it was \nnever his fortune to have the conduct of any consid- \nerable affair. His field of operations and the forces \nunder his control were always small, and it may well \nbe that he would have proved unequal to anything \nlarger. Nevertheless, both on this and on other occa- \nsions presently to be described, he showed himself \nsomething more than merely a born fighter; for he \nrose to an equality with difficult and dangerous situa- \ntions, and he did it through the easy, because instinc- \ntive, exercise of one of the most important attributes \nof all great comananders, — a correct insight into the \nmethods and characteristics of the men immediately \nopposed to him. He knew what the occasion called \nfor when the occasion presented itself. He did not \nneed time to think the thing out ; nor, seeing what \nthe occasion called for, did he hesitate. He acted as \nquickly as he thought. With him it was not a word \nand a blow, it was a glance and a blow : but the eye \nwas true and the blow well directed and hard ; for, in \nadvance of delivering it, he had measured his oppo- \nnent correctly. \n\nBefore he came to New England the Plymouth cap- \ntain had never seen a savage : but, once he came in \ncontact with a savage, his instinct told him, and told \nhim correctly, how a savage should be dealt with ; \nand he seems never to have made a mistake. In the \n\n1 Young-, Chron. of Pilg. 310-12. \n\n\n1623. MILES STANDISH. 71 \n\npresence of savages he always bore himself boldly. \nHe seems to have been gifted by nature with a quick \near as well as eye, for he was already more familiar \nthan any one else at Plymouth with the Indian speech ; \nbut now he could make nothing of Wituwamat's fierce \nharangue. It sounded to him like gibberish ; but gib- \nberish or not, he saw that harm was intended. It \nwas his custom always to treat the Indians he met in \nfriendly fashion, but he suffered no liberties to be \ntaken, and above all never evinced the slightest sign \nof fear. If they stole from him, he compelled imme- \ndiate restitution ; if they insulted him, he fiercely re- \nsented it. The neglect with which he was now treated \nby Canacum was in strong contrast to the considera- \ntion which the sachem showed towards Wituwamat. \nIt was an Indian insult. Accordingly, expressing \nhimself in angry and defiant fashion, Standish made \nready to return to his boat. Nothing further seems \nto have taken place at the moment, and the Indian \nwomen were induced by some trifling reward to carry \nthe corn down to the shore. There the party had to \nwait until morning, and the night which followed was \nprobably as anxious a night as Standish ever passed. \nThe air bit shrewdly and it was very cold. Against \nWituwamat in particular he was, as the sequel showed, \nmeditating dire vengeance, and the wrath he was nurs- \ning may to a degree have counteracted the effects of \nthe piercing wind from which he in vain sought shel- \nter ; but the events of the afternoon had alarmed him, \nand he wanted to get back to Plymouth with the least \npossible delay. The immediate situation, also, was \nby no means free from danger. A mere handful of \nmen, far from home on an exposed coast in the dead \nof winter, they were surrounded by savages bent on \n\n\n72 THE WESSAGUSSET HANGING. March, \n\ntheir destruction. Nor were they alone. Among the \nothers gathered at Canacum's lodge was a Paomet, \nor Cape Cod, Indian, whom they had seen before, but \nthe oppressive friendliness of whose carriage now was \nextremely suspicious. Not only had he insisted on \ncoming down to the shore with them, but he had vol- \nuntarily even carried some of the corn, an ignomin- \nious act for a male Indian. Neither, after so doing, \nhad he returned to Canacum's lodge in company w^th \nthe women ; but, making a pretext of the cold, he re- \nmained with the Plymouth party, crouching before \ntheir fire. Under the circumstances it is not matter \nfor wonder, therefore, that Standish rested not at all \nthat night, \" but either walked or turned himself to \nand fro at the fire ; \" nor that, when the waking sav- \nage asked him why he did not sleep, he answered him \nthat — \" He knew not well, but had no desire at all to \nrest.\" But the watches even of that long winter night \nslowly wore themselves away without further cause for \nalarm ; and, the next day, the wind coming fair, the \nparty got safely back to Plymouth. \n\nMeanwhile, during Standish's absence, tidings had \ncome of the dangerous sickness of Massasoit. Wins- \nlow was at once despatched to visit him, with the In- \ndian Hobamack as a guide, and arrived only just in \ntime to save his life. The unfortunate man was lying \nin his habitation, blind and almost unconscious, while \nsix or eight women were violently ctiafing his arms, \nlegs and thighs to keep heat in him, and a crowd of \nmen, engaged in their incantations, were, as Winslow \ndescribed it, \" making such a hellish noise as it dis- \ntempered us that were well, and therefore unlike to \nease him that was sick.\" With the aid of a little \nsensible treatment, nature got the better of the dis- \n\n\n1623. THE CONSPIRACY. 73 \n\norder ; but Massasoit, naturally attributing his recov- \nery to the skill of his visitors, could not sufficiently \nexpress his gratitude. The sense of it was still fresh \nwhen, on the morning of the fourth day of his visit, \nWinslow prepared to set out on his way back to \nPlymouth. Seeing him about to depart, Massasoit \nthen took aside Hobamack, who was one of his own \nmen, and told him of a conspiracy which had been \nformed to destroy the Wessagusset settlement. All \nthe tribes of southeastern Massachusetts, he said, had \nbeen induced to join in it, and he had himseK been \nearnestly solicited to do so during the earlier days of \nhis sickness. Among others concerned in this plot, \nhe named the people of Paomet and Manomet. In \ntrue Indian style he now urged decisive action, advis- \ning the Plymouth people \" to kill the men of Massa- \nchusetts who were the authors of this intended mis- \nchief.\" All this Hobamack, as he was bid, repeated \nto Winslow on the way back ; so that, when the latter \nreached home and there met the party just returned \nfrom Manomet, the presence of the two Massachusetts \nmen at Canacum's lodge was accounted for. The full \nsignificance of the treatment Standish had received \nbecame apparent. \n\nThere could no longer be any doubt of the exist- \nence of a widespread Indian conspiracy. As yet it \nwas directed only against the Wessagusset settlement ; \nbut it needed neither Wituwamat's defiant action nor \nMassasoit' s warning to awaken the Plymouth people \nto the fact that their own fate was involved in the \nfate of their neighbors. Should the war whoop ring \nin triumph over the smoking ruins of Wessagusset, \nthe woods back of Plymouth would not long be quiet. \nTo appreciate the effect of this sudden revelation of \n\n\n74 THE WESSAGUSSET HANGING. March, \n\ndanger upon the minds and nerves of the settlers, it \nmust be remembered that the Virginia massacre had \noccurred exactly one year before, and that all its har- \nrowing details, freshly brought by the Charity and \nother vessels on their return from the scene of it, \nmust have been uppermost in the mind of every one \nwithin the Plymouth stockade, and the constant theme \nof discussion. They knew whatever history now tells \nof the incidents of that dread 22d of March, 1622, \nwhen at one and the same instant a merciless blow, \nwhich had been planned with impenetrable secrecy, \nfell upon an unsuspecting people.^ They knew how \nindiscriminate the murder had been, how neither age \nnor sex had been spared, what atrocities had been \ncommitted on the quick and the dead. The Virginia \ncommunity at the time it sustained this blow was a \nlarge one compared to what their own was now. The \nvery dead in the massacre exceeded the whole number \nof the Plymouth settlers by nearly threefold ; and yet, \nup to the hour of the Virginia attack, the savages had \ncunningly borne the aspect of friendliness. \n\nSo great and abiding had been the alarm caused at \nPlymouth by the knowledge of these things that, with \nthe famine of the past winter and forebodings for the \nnext never absent from their minds, the people there \nduring that summer of want and weakness had de- \nvoted half their time and strength to building a fort \nof refuge. But, even when their fort was completed, \nthey remained at most but a pitiful handful, — not \nsevenscore, all told, — a speck, as it were, of civilized \nlife between the sea on the one side and that impen- \netrable forest, within which lurked the savage, on the \nother. It was true the pestilence had left but few \n1 Bancroft, i. 142 (ed. 1876). \n\n\n1623. FOREWARNING. 75 \n\nIndians in their immediate vicinity ; but not far away \nwere the Narragansetts, an unscathed and warlike \ntribe, whose missive of '^ arrows lapped in a rattle- \nsnake's skin \" had already come to them as a chal- \nlenge, and in regard to whose movements and inten- \ntions rumor was constantly busy. \n\nThere is something appalling in the consciousness \nof utter isolation. The settlers at Plymouth were but \nmen and women, and their children were with them, \nand it was impossible they should not exaggerate \nrather than diminish the danger. Fortunately they \nwere a stolid, unimaginative race ; and, even though \ndirectly from the busy life and complete security of \nHolland, the neighborhood of the forest seems to have \nsoon become a thing customary and little alarming to \nthem. Simple, straightforward * and self-reliant, to \nthem sufficient unto the day were the labors and dan- \ngers thereof. Above all else, perhaps, they were held \nup by that strength of endurance — that staying \npower, if so it may be called — which is always found \nassociated with any deep religious feeling bred of in- \ndependent thought. The grateful Massasoit, more- \nover, had now done for them what another of his race \nhad done for Jamestown ; and, with the experience of \nJamestown fresh in mind, to be forwarned at Plym- \nouth was to be forearmed. \n\nBy this time it was the end of March, and the day \nfor the annual election of magistrates was at hand. \nWhen it came about, Governor Bradford made known \nthe situation in open court, and it was there anxiously \ndebated. Finally, without reaching any decision in \npublic meeting, the matter was left in the hands of \nthree men, Bradford the governor, Isaac AUerton the \nassistant, and Miles Standish ; and these three were \n\n\n76 THE WESSAGUSSET HANGING. March, \n\nauthorized to call into their councils whomsoever else \nthey saw fit, and to do whatever the common safety \nmight seem to require. They decided on immediate \nand decisive action. Having so decided, they dis- \nmissed all scruples from their minds and determined \nto deal with the savages after a savage's own fashion. \nPlot was to be met with plot. \n\nThe plan of campaign was a simple one. Staudish \nwas to go at once to Wessagusset, taking with him as \nmany men as he thought sufficient to enable him to \nhold his own against all the Massachusetts. When \nthere, pretending that he was come, as he had repeat- \nedly come before, to trade, he was first to make known \nhis purpose to the settlers, and then, acting in concert \nwith them, was to entrap the conspirators and kill \nthem. The last words of his instructions showed \nclearly enough that they were framed by himself, and \nthat, as revengeful as he was choleric, he retained a \nfresh recollection of the scene in the lodjre of the sa- \nchem of Manomet. He was enjoined to forbear his \nblow, if possible, \" till such time as he could make \nsure [of] Wituwamat, that bloody and bold villain be- \nfore spoken of; whose head he had order to bring \nwith him, that he might be a warning and terror to \nall of that disposition.\" \n\nWhile these events were taking place at Plymouth, \nthere was at Wessagusset a complete and wretched \nunconsciousness of impending disaster. Under the \npressure of suffering, all pretence even at order and \ndiscipline would seem to have been abandoned after \nSaunders left for Monhegan. Those composing the \ncompany no longer lived together within the stockade ; \nbut, hunger overcoming the sense of fear, they had \ndivided themselves, and were scattered about near the \n\n\n1623. EXPOSURE AND DEATH, 77 \n\nIndian villages, in which, for a handful of food, they \nperformed the most menial of services, degrading \nthemselves into mere hewers of wood and drawers of \nwater. Some had already bartered away their clothes \nand their blankets ; and soon, of course, insufficient \nfood and exposure brought on disease. Gradually \nmany of them became so weakened that they could \nhardly continue the search for something wherewith \nlife might be sustained. What in the way of nourish- \nment they could have found at that season it is not \neasy to make out, for the wdnter had been a severe \none, and the ground, full of frost, was covered with \nsnow and ice. It is said they lived mainly on nuts \nand shell-fish, and that one miserable wretch, while \ndigging for the latter, got caught in the mud, and, not \nhaving strength to extricate himself, was drowned by \nthe rising tide. Yet, judging by the mortality among \nthem, their sufferings, as compared with those of the \nMayflower's people during the winter of their arrival, \nwould not seem to have been great. At Plymouth, \nout of more than one hundred persons who composed \nthe entire company in December, 1620, scarce fifty \nremained alive in April, 1621. At Wessagusset, dur- \ning the winter of 1622-3, ten only out of sixty are \nreported to have died. It is true that in the one case \nthere were many women and children, while in the \nother all were able-bodied men ; yet, under the cir- \ncumstances, the proportion of one to six cannot be \nlooked upon as an excessive or, indeed, even as a \nlarge mortality. Considering who they were, and \nwhat they had to go through, it is, perhaps, rather \nmatter for surprise that all of them did not die. \n\nThe bearing of the savages had meanwhile become \nsuch as was naturally to be expected. \" Rude fel- \n\n\n78 THE WESSAGUSSET HANGING. March, \n\nlows \" at best, Weston's people were never calcnlated \nto command respect, and it was some time since they \nhad ceased to inspire fear. Now they were objects of \nmere hatred and contempt. They counted the greater \nnumber, but the savages were the masters. As mas- \nters, too, these latter did not confine themselves to \nthreats and insults. On the contrary, \" many times \nas they lay thus scattered abroad, and had set on a pot \nwith ground-nuts or shell-fish, when it was ready the \nIndians would come and eat it up. And when night \ncame, whereas some of them had a sorry blanket, or \nsuch like, to lap themselves in, the Indians would take \nit and let the other lie all niglit in the cold.\" If \ntreatment of this kind was resented, the savages \nthreatened the settlers, or flung dust in their faces, or \neven struck at them with their knives. \n\nThe natives, moreover, on their side, had good \ngrounds of complaint. Wretchedly poor, even for \nNew England Indians, they had nothing but a few furs, \nand hardly food wherewith to sustain life. Yet they \nhad been outraged, and they were still robbed. They \nhad complained to the Plymouth people, but their \nwrongs were unredressed. Under these circumstances \nthe Indians showed in their conduct a self-restraint \nand respect for persons which, had the position been \nreversed, would assuredly have been looked for in \nvain among Europeans. When pilferers were caught \nin the very act of stealing the hidden seed-corn, in- \nstead of inflicting punishment themselves on the spot, \nthe Massachusetts brought the wrong-doers to the \nplantation, and delivered them up to be dealt with by \ntheir own people. But whippings and confinement \ncould not hold in restraint thieves who were starving. \nAgain the hidden stores were broken into, and again \n\n\n1623. ''A parliament:' 79 \n\nwith angry threats the malefactor was brought back \nto the block-house. Thoroughly frightened now, the \nsettlers told the savages to take their prisoner and to \ndeal with him as they saw fit. This they refused to \ndo, insisting that the settlers should punish their own \nthieves. His companions thereupon took the culprit \nout, and, in full sight of those he had robbed, hanged \nhim before their stockade. \n\nThis was that famous Wessagusset hanging, which \npassed into literature as a jest, and then, received \nback into history as a traditional fact, was long used \nas a gibe and reproach against New England. It \nhappened in this wise : — Thomas Morton, who, as it \nhas already been surmised,^ came out with young \nWeston in the Charity in June and returned to Eng- \nland in her with him in October, published, some \nfifteen years later, an account of his experiences in \nNew England. Though he did not, it would appear, \ncare to dwell upon his connection with Weston's abor- \ntive enterprise, for the obvious reason that he was \nthen, as will presently be seen,^ a hanger-on of those \nwith whom the very name of Weston was a scandal, \nhe could hardly fail at times incidentally to refer to it. \nOf this particular episode of the hanging he gave the \nfollowing characteristic account : — \n\n\" One amongst the rest, an able bodied man that ranged \nthe woodes to see what it would afford, lighted by accident \non an Indian barne, and from thence did take a capp full \nof come ; the salvage owner of it, finding by the foote some \nEnglish had bin there, came to the Plantation and made \ncomplaint after this manner. \n\n\" The cheife Commander of the Company one this occa- \ntion called a Parliament of all his people, but those that \n1 Supra, 59. 2 j^jy^, iq-^^ ^^^ 268, 277. \n\n\n80 THE WESSAGUSSET HANGING. March, \n\nwere sicke and III at ease. And wisely now they must con- \nsult upon this huge complaint, that a privy knife or stringe \nof beades would well enough have qualified, and Edward \nlohnson was a spetiall judge of this businesse ; the fact was \nthere in repetition ; construction made that it was fellony, \nand by the Lawes of England punished with death, and this \nin execution must be put for an example, and likewise to \nappease the Salvage ; when straight wayes one arose, mooved \nas it were with some compassion, and said hee could not \nwell gaine say the former sentence, yet hee had conceaved \nwithin the compasse of his braine an Embrion, that was of \nspetiall consequence to be delivered and cherished ; hee said \nthat it would most aptly serve to pacifie the Salvages com- \nplaint, and save the life of one that might, (if neede should \nbe,) stand them in some good steede, being younge and \nstronge, fit for resistance against an enemy, which might \ncome unexpected for any thinge they knew. The Oration \nmade was liked of every one, and hee intreated to proceede \nto shew the meanes how this may be performed : sayes hee, \nyou all agree that one must die, and one shall die ; this \nyounge mans cloathes we will take of, and put upon one \nthat is old and impotent, a sickly person that cannot escape \ndeath, such is the disease one him confirmed that die hee \nmust ; put the younge mans cloathes on this man, and let \nthe sick person be hanged in the others steede : Amen \nsayes one, and so sayes many more. \n\n*' And this had like to have prooved their finall sentence, \nand, being there confirmed by Act of Parliament to after \nages for a precedent. But that one, with a ravenus voyce, \nbegunne to croake and bellow for revenge, and put by that \nconclusive motion, alledging such deceipts might be a \nmeanes hereafter to exasperate the mindes of the complain- \ninge Salvages, and that by his death the Salvages should \nsee their zeale to lustice ; and therefore hee should die : \nthis was concluded : yet neverthelesse a scruple did repre- \nsent itself unto their mindes, which was, — how they should \n\n\n1623. \"HUDIBRAS.\" 81 \n\ndoe to get the mans good wil ? This was Indeede a spe- \ntiall obstacle : for without that, they all agreed, it would be \ndangerous for any man to attempt the execution of it, lest \nmischiefe should befall them every man ; hee was a person \nthat in his wrath did seeme to be a second Sampson, able to \nbeate out their branes with the jawbone of an Asse : there- \nfore they called the man, and by perswation got him fast \nbound in jest ; and then hanged him up hard by in good \nearnest, who with a weapon, and at liberty, would have put \nall those wise judges of this Parliament to a pittifull non \nplus (as it hath beene credibly reported), and made the \ncheife ludge of them all buckell to him.\" ^ \n\nThirty years after the publication of the \" New Eng- \nlish Canaan,\" when its author had long been dead and \nthe book itself was forgotten, Butler's famous satire \nof \" Hudibras \" appeared. In speaking of this work \nHallam has remarked, in his \" Literary History of Eu- \nrope,\" that the inexhaustible wit of the author \" is sup- \nplied from every source of reading and observation. \nBut these sources are often so unknown to the reader \nthat the wit loses its effect through the obscurity of \nits allusions.\" ^ The truth of this criticism was strik- \ningly illustrated in the present instance. Either the \nauthor of \" Hudibras \" had at some time in the \ncourse of his reading come across the \" New English \nCanaan,\" or he had met Thomas Morton and heard \nhim tell the story, which, as a highly utilitarian sug- \ngestion of vicarious atonement, appealed to Butler's \nsense of humor and thereafter lingered in his memory. \nMoreover, while in 1664 the Puritans of New Eng- \nland were fair game, whatever Samuel Butler found \nwas his ; and so, making, as a thing of course, those \n\n1 N. E. Canaan, B. III. ch. iv. \n\n2 Lit. Hist, of Europe, Part IV. ch. v. § 23. \n\n\n82 THE WESSAGUSSET HANGING. March, \n\nimprovements of fact which literary exigencies de- \nmanded, the incident, as finally transmuted by his \nwit, appeared in the following form in what long con- \ntinued to be one of the most popular and generally \nread of English books : — \n\n\" Our Brethren of New-England use \nChoice malefactors to excuse, \nAnd hang the Guiltless iu their stead, \nOf whom the Churches have less need; \nAs lately 't happened : In a town \nThere liv'd a Cobler, and but one, \nThat out of Doctrine could cut Use, \nAnd mend men's lives as well as shoes. \nThis precious Brother having slain. \nIn times of peace, an Indian, \n(Not out of malice, but mere zeal, \nBecause he was an Infidel), \nThe mighty Tottipottymoy \nSent to our Elders an envoy. \nComplaining sorely of the breach \nOf league held forth by Brother Patch, \nAgainst the articles in force \nBetween both churches, his and ours, \nFor which he craved the Saints to render \nInto his hands, or hang th' offender ; \nBut they maturely ha\\ang weigh'd \nThey had no more but him o' th' trade, \n(A man that served them in a double \nCapacity, to teach and cobble), \nResolv'd to spare him ; yet to do \nTlie Indian Hoghan Moghan too \nImpartial justice, in his stead did \nHang an old Weaver that was bed-rid.\" \n\nBut the real humor of the thing was yet to come. \nThe actual hanging took place in 1623. When, \nnearly half a century later, its memory was thus ac- \ncidentally revived, the Cavalier reaction was at its \nheight ; and everything which tended to make the \nPuritans and Puritanism either odious or contempti- \nble was eagerly laid hold of. They had become the \n\n\n1623. SOME HISTORICAL FICTIONS. 83 \n\ntarget for ribald jesting, — the standing butt of the \nday. The New England provinces also, and Massa- \nchusetts in particular, were known chiefly as the place \nof refuge of the chosen people ; — there alone did they \nretain a secure ascendency. Morton's absurd fiction, \nas improved and embellished by Butler, was accord- \ningly not only laughed over as a good jest forever, \nbut, gradually passing into a tradition, it seems at \nlast ^ to have even assumed its place as one of those \nhistorical incidents, vaguely but currently accepted as \nfacts, which periodically reappear in spite of every \neffort to put an end to them. Such were, and are, \nthe famous Blue Laws of Connecticut ; ^ and, again, \nthat limitation which prevented lords of the manor in \nfeudal times from killing more than two serfs, after \nthe hunt, for foot-warming purposes ; ^ or, finally (a \nyet more familiar example in later history), that dra- \nmatic sinking of the Vengeur, which not even Car- \nlyle's exposure has sufficed to exorcise.* \n\n1 N. E. Canaan, Prince Society Publications, 96, 251, n. \n\n2 Trumbull, Blue Laws True and False, 44. \n\n^ Carlyle, French Revolution, B. I. ch. 2 ; New York Nation (No. \n338), December 21, 1871, p. 400. \" Was it ' Serf or ' Cerf ? \" \n* Verne, Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea, P. II. ch. 20. \n\n\nCHAPTER VI. \n\nTHE SMOKING FLAX BLOOD-QUENCHED. \n\nIt has already been mentioned that the winter of \n1622-3 was one of at least the averag^e New Encrland \nseverity. Beginning with a succession of storms in \nNovember, the harbors had been filled with ice until \nearly March, while the snow still lay upon the ground \nin April. 1 In all its leading features, the wintry scene \nat Wessagusset must then have been what it now is. \nThe rolling hills into which the country is broken \nstood out against each other and the sky, offering to \nthe view stretches of dazzling snow against which \nblack masses of the leafless forest were sharply out- \nlined. Groves and clumps of savin fringed the shore \nand crested the hills to the south and west ; while \nnorthward lay the island-studded bay, an expanse of \nsnow and ice, broken here and there by patches of \nwater, which, according as the sky was obscured or \nclear, showed inky blackness or a cold steel-blue. Im- \nmediately in front of the plantation, the swift flow and \nebb of the tide must, for long weeks, have now lifted \nthe ice until it was high upon the marshes, and then \nlet it fall until it rested on the flats, or lay piled in \nhugje, broken cakes in the inlets or upon the beach. \nThe solitude and the silence were intense ; for at that \nseason both the forest and the air were devoid of \nanimal life, unless now and again the stillness was \n1 Young, Ckron. of Pilg. 302, 308 ; iv. Mass. Hist. Coll. iv. 482-3. \n\n\n1623. A WINTER SCENE. 85 \n\nbroken by the howl of a wolf, or a flock of carrion- \ncrows were seen to wing their clumsy way in search \nof food. \n\nNeither, in the case of Weston's settlement, was the \npresence of ice and snow merely a cause of tedium and \ndiscouragement ; for, while the latter lay among the \ntrees, making it very difficult to search for nuts and \nroots, the former so covered the salt marshes and \nbeach that it must for considerable periods have been \nquite impossible to get at the shell-fish. While the \nWessagusset people were thus cut off from their two \nprincipal sources of supply, their stock of powder had \nalso run low ; nor, mere fifteenth century London \nvagabonds, were they familiar with the haunts and \nhabits of game. So there was little left for them to \ndo through the long winter months but to hang, hun- \ngry and shivering, about the fires in their log-huts, the \nmud-sealed walls of which offered but a poor pro- \ntection against the outer cold. And so, with the ice- \nbound river before them and the snow-clad wilderness \nbehind, they awaited, with what patience men both \nfreezing and starving could, the slow approach of \nspring. \n\nThe settlers mingled freely with the Indians, hang- \ning about their villages by day and sleeping in their \nhuts at night, thus affording them every possible \nadvantage in case of sudden attack; but, when the \nfeelings of hostility which had slowly been excited at \nlength ripened into a plot, it was not only cunningly \ndevised, but also well concealed. The utter destruc- \ntion of the settlement was proposed; and to assure \nthis it was necessary for the savages to seize, at one \nand the same moment, not only the stockade and the \nblock-house within it, but also the Swan, which lay at \n\n\n86 SMOKING FLAX BLOOD-QUENCHED. March, \n\nher raoorinofs iu the river. There would then be no \nplace of refuge for the scattered settlers, and they \ncould be destroyed in detail and at leisure. In fur- \ntherance of their design the Indians, it would seem, \ngradually edged up towards the stockade, moving their \nwiofwams nearer and nearer to it. At the same time \nthey were busy constructing canoes, in which l^ter \nwork they were aided by some of their intended \nvictims.-^ By this time one at least of the settlers had \nbecome thoroughly alarmed. ^ This was Phinehas \nPratt, who, coming over in the Swallow, had been \namong the six who afterwards in May reached Plym- \nouth in the shallop. He was now bent on making \nhis escape from Wessagusset. The journey he pro- \nposed for himself was both difficult and dangerous. \nThe distance was not great, — hardly, indeed, more \nthan twenty-five miles, — but the way was through \nso complete a wilderness that a few years later this \nregion became known throughout the province as the \nRagged Plain, it was such a \" strange labyrinth of un- \nbeaten bushy wayes in the wooddy wildernes.\" ^ It \nhad apparently been completely depopulated by the \nplague of 1617 ; and since then the underbrush had \nnot been burned away, the frequent watercourses stop- \nping such fires as were set. Accordingly it was now \nbecome a tangled undergrowth of bushes and brambles \ngrowing over an upland country, interspersed with \nswamps and cut by running streams. \n\nPratt may possibly have made the same journey \nbefore, though this is not probable ; and now, as will \nbe seen, he almost immediately lost his way. He had \n\n1 Young, Chron. of Pilg. 342. \n\n2 IV. Mass. Hist. Coll. iv. 482. \n8 Wood, Prospect, 13, 61. \n\n\n1623. PHINEHAS PRATT. 87 \n\nneither a guide nor a compass. It was the end of \nMarch, it is true, and the rigor of the winter was \nbroken ; but great belts of snow were still lying on \nthe north sides of the hills and in the hollows, and he \nwas not only insufficiently clad, but weak from want \nof food. The sense of danger overcoming all fear, he \nmade up a small pack and got ready to set out. His \nfirst object was to steal away unobserved by the \nsavages. Taking a hoe in his hand, therefore, as if he \nwere going out in search of nuts or to dig for clams, \nhe very early on the morning of what is now the \nfirst of April left the stockade, and made his way \ndirectly towards some wigwams standing not far off \nand close to the edge of a swamp. When near \nenough to see any movement wdiich might be going \non, he made a pretence of digging, which he kept up \nuntil he had satisfied himself that no one was stirring ; \nthen, slipping into the thicket, he hurried off towards \nthe south. Euuning and walking by turns, he made \nall the progress he could during the morning, but was \noften obliged to go out of his way to avoid the snow ; \nthough at some points he could not go around, and so \nwas obliged to cross it, — to his great alarm, for his \nfootprints were almost sure to reveal his course. He \nseems soon to have lost his way ; and this probably \nsaved his life, for when his absence became known to \nthe savages, and they sent one of their number after \nhim, he escaped simply from the fact that his pursuer \nfollowed the direct trail. Until about noon the sk}^ \nappears to have been sufficiently clear to enable him \nto make out in a general way the direction he was to \ntake, but, as is apt to be the case in the early New \nEngland April, the clouds gathered as the day wore on, \nuntil at length the sun became so obscured that the \n\n\n88 SMOKING FLAX BLOOD-QUENCHED. April, \n\nfugitive wholly lost his way, and for a time wandered \naimlessly about. Later in the day it cleared again, \nand the glow of the setting sun both gave his bear- \nings to the frightened wanderer, and restored to him \na degree of hope and heart. Going on once more, he \nsoon came to the North River, which he found deep \nand full of rocks. There was no help for it ; he had \nto ford the icy stream, which he only succeeded in \ndoing with much difficulty. Getting at last to its \nsouthern bank, he found it too dark to go further. His \ncondition was indeed pitiable. Weak and wet, cold \nand hungry, — worn out with his long day's tramp, — \nhe had but a handful of parched corn to eat, and his \nfear of pursuit was so great that he did not dare to \nlight a fire. He at last came to a deep hollow in the \nwoods, in which many fallen trees had lodged ; and \nhere he ventured to kindle a feeble blaze, before \nwhich he passed the night listening to the wolves as \nthey howled in the forest about him. Fortunately the \nsky became clear, and he was able to make out the \npole star, thus assuring himself of the direction he was \nto take. \n\nThe next morning he attempted to go on, but, \nwhether from being too foot-sore and weary, or be- \ncause of the cloudiness of the sk}^ he soon found him- \nself unable to do so, and returned to his resting-place \nof the previous night. The third day of his journey \nbroke clear, and once more he started on his way; \nbut it was not until about three o'clock in the after- \nnoon that, emerging suddenly from the forest, he found \nhimself, to his great joy, on the outskirts of Plymouth. \nHe had made his way by bearing to the south and east, \nskirting the marshes, and had come out at some point \nin what is now Diixbury. His escape was a narrow \n\n\n1623. ''ALL MEANS TO CRUSH.\" 89 \n\none, for the next day his pursuers were lurking in \nthe neighboring woods. Having assured themselves \nthat their quarry had eluded them, they then turned \naside and pursued their way southward, apparently in- \ntending to notify their confederates of what had hap- \npened. \n\nPratt had reached Plymouth on the third of April, \nor March 24th as it then was, the day after the annual \nelection. The course to be pursued in crushing out \nthe conspiracy had already been decided on, and the \nwhole available force of the settlement placed at the \ndisposal of Standish, who was well acquainted with \nthe field in which he was to operate. His plan was \nto stamp the danger out at once ; he did not propose \nto simply scare the conspirators into a temporary \naspect of friendliness. Above all, it would appear, \nhe was bent on killing Wituwamat ; for Wituwamat \nhad affronted him in presence of savages, and Stan- \ndish meant by making an example of him to restore \nhis own prestige in Indian eyes. Cost what it might, \nthat prestige he proposed to maintain. Accordingly \nStandish now preferred to incur additional risk rather \nthan do anything likely to excite suspicion, and so \nprevent the complete carrying out of his plan. He \nknew that the Massachusetts were scattered, and at \nmost did not number more than thirty or forty fight- \ning men ; but they had been in the custom of seeing \nthe Plymouth leader come on his trading expeditions \nwith a few companions only, and if he now appeared \nwith a large armed force they might be put on their \nguard, and the prime movers in the conspiracy at \nleast would be careful not to trust themselves within \nhis grasp. So he chose but eight men to go with him, \nand when Pratt arrived the preparations were all com- \n\n\n90 SMOKING FLAX BLOOD-QUENCHED. April, \n\npleted and the party ready to set out. The news \nbrought by the refugee was simply confirmatory of \nwhat the Plymouth peojile already knew, though the \naccount he gave of the condition of affairs at Wes- \nsaousset revealed the imminence of the danji^er. The \nnecessity for instant action was clearer than ever. \nWhatever was to be done must plainly be done at \nonce. The weather was wet and threatening, — in \nfact a dreary easterly storm, such as is not unusual \nin a New England spring, would seem to have pre- \nvailed. Regardless of this, on Monday (then the \n25th of March, but now the 4th of April) Standish \nordered his party on board their shallop and got un- \nder weigh for Wessagusset. The force consisted of \nten men in all, including in the number Standish him- \nself and the Indian Hobamack. Pratt was too weak \nfrom the effects of his journey to accom]3any them. \n\nAs they sailed with a fair as well as a strong wind, \nthe party must have reached Weymouth River on the \nafternoon of the same day on which they left Plym- \nouth. The}^ soon made out the Swan lying quietly \nat her moorings, and went alongside of lier, but found \nno one on board ; nor was any one in sight on the \nbeach. Alarmed apparently at this absence of all \nmovement, and for the moment afraid that the blow \nthey came to avert had already fallen, instead of at \nonce landing at the stockade they fired a musket to \nattract the notice of any one on the shore near by. \nIn answer to their signal a few stragglers, among \nwhom was the master of the Swan, soon showed them- \nselves, abandoning for the moment their anxious search \nfor nuts. In reply to Standish's inquiry, how they \ndared leave the vessel so unprotected, they explained \nto him that they did not consider any precautions \n\n\n1623. PREPARATION. 91 \n\nnecessary, — that they had no fear of the Indians, and \nindeed lived with them, suffering them to come and \ngo in the settlement with perfect freedom. Learning \nfurther that those whom Saunders had left in charge \nupon his departure were at the plantation, Standish \nlanded and went thither. Finding them, he forth- \nwith proceeded to explain the purpose of his coming. \nThoroughly alarmed at what he told them, Weston's \npeople at once became obedient, promising to do as \nStandish should bid, and thereupon, assuming general \ncommand, he went to work maturing the details of his \ncounter-plot. Enjoining strict quiet and secrecy he \nsent out messengers to call in the stragglers, w^ho \namounted to a third part of the company, and at the \nsame time gave notice that any one who left the stock- \nade without permission would be put to death. Then \nout of his own slender supplies, taken from the little \nreserve kept for seed at Plymouth, the new com- \nmander rationed the entire place, causing a pint of \ncorn a day to be served out to each man. \n\nAs the stormy weather still continued, the work of \ngetting in the stragglers proved a somewhat long one, \nand an Indian meanwhile came into the plantation \nwith some furs, ostensibly to trade, but in reality it \nwas supposed to see what was going on. He reported \nStandish's arrival to the other Indians, who seem to \nhave suspected the purpose of his coming, but failed \nto realize with how formidable an opponent they had \nnow to reckon ; and, moreover, it would appear that \nthe demoralized conduct of Weston's party had in= \nspired the savages with a feeling of contempt for Euro- \npeans generally, which had been strengthened by the \napparent impunity with which Wituwamat had in- \nsulted Standish in Canacum's lodge. Accordingly, \n\n\n92 SMOKING FLAX BLOOD-QUENCHED. April, \n\nwhen others of them presently came into the stockade, \nthey did not hesitate to indulge in threats and insult- \ning gestures, even flourishing their knives in the faces \nof the whites. Wituwamat himself, little aware of \nthe decree which had gone out against him, was among \nthose who thus tempted fate. Indeed, he seems to \nhave reenacted with variations that Manomet per- \nformance which was soon to cost him his head ; for, \ndauntingiy drawing his knife, which he carried slung \nabout his neck, he held it up before Standish's eyes, \nand bade him take note of the face of a woman carved \non the handle. Then he added that at home he had \nyet another knife on which was the face of a man ; by \nand by the two should marry. With those knives, he \nboasted, he had already killed both English and \nFrenchmen ; and presently the knife he held in his \nhand should see and act, but it should not speak. \nPecksuot, another brave of great size and strength, \na companion of Wituwamat, was also there ; and, not \nto be outdone in bravado, he taunted Standish, in true \nIndian style, on the smallness of his stature, and com- \npared it with his own ; for, though not a sachem, he \nboasted himself a warrior of courage and repute. \n\nThe next day (our 6th of April as it would seem), \nPecksuot and Wituwamat, accompanied by two other \nsavages, one of them a younger brother of the latter, \nagain came into the stockade, and were permitted to \nenter the principal block-house. Standish was there \nwith some four or five of his own company. His hope \nhad been to get a larger number of the savages to- \ngether before he fell upon them, but he had begun to \ndoubt whether he could succeed in so doing. And \nnow the two most dangerous of them were fairly within \nhis grasp, and he seems suddenly to have resolved to \n\n\n1623. A DEATH-GRAPPLE. 93 \n\nseize the occasion. To each his work was assigned, \nand a signal had been agreed upon. AVatching his \nchance to take his man unawares, with a stealth which \nexceeded that of the savages, Standish, suddenly giv- \ning the signal, sprang upon Pecksuot. He was the \nlargest and most formidable of them all. Instantly \nthe door was flung to and made fast. The strug- \ngle had begun. It was a short fierce death-grapple. \nStandish had snatched the knife at Pecksuot's neck \nfrom its sheath and driven it into him. The others \nhad fallen upon Wituwamat and his companions. \nThough taken wholly by surprise and at a fearful dis- \nadvantage, the savages neither cried out, nor tried to \nfly, nor asked for quarter. Catching at their weapons \nand vainly resisting, they struggled to the last. It \nwas incredible, Winslow afterwards wrote, how many \nwounds the two warriors received before they died. \nThree out of the four were despatched on the spot ; \nwhile the other one, Wituwamat' s brother, and scarcely \nit would seem more than a boy, was overpowered and \nbound fast. \n\nIt remained to complete the work thus bloodily \nbegun. A messenger was hurried off to a party at \nanother point, bidding them at once despatch any \nIndian men in their power. They killed two. His \nboy prisoner Standish hung out of hand, killing also \none more Indian found elsewhere. There were a few \nwomen in the camp. These Standish made prison- \ners, placing them under the charge of some of the \nWessagusset people ; but they were subsequently re- \nleased without any further harm being done them. \nAnother Indian, through \"the negligence,'* as it is \nexpressed, of the man who should have murdered him, \nescaped and spread the alarm, thus preventing the full \n\n\n94 SMOKING FLAX BLOOD-QUENCHED. April, \n\naccomplishment of Standish's purpose, which seems to \nhave been the indiscriminate killing of all the males \nof the tribe. \n\nHaving thus disposed of those within his reach, \nStandish the next day took with him a party, some \nhalf dozen in number, and went out, under the guid- \nance of Hobamack, in search of the sachem Aber- \ndecest and the main body of his people. Word of \nthe massacre had reached the sachem's village during \nthe previous night, and all the men, taking their \nweapons, had left it. Standish had not gone far \nbefore he discovered them, apparently making their \nway in the direction of Wessagusset. Both parties, \ngetting sight of each other at about the same time, \nhurried to secure the advantage of a rising ground \nnear by. Standish got there first, and the Indians, \nseeking at once the protection of the trees, let fly their \narrows. The skirmish was hardly worthy of the \nname. The savages had lost their leading warriors \nthe day before, and when Hobamack, uttering his \nwar-cry and casting aside his garment of furs, ran \nupon them tomahawk in hand, they turned and fled in \nterror to a swamp near by, in the mire and under- \ngrowth of which they found a hiding-place. One only \nof them seems to have been injured, his arm having \nbeen shattered by a ball from Standish's musket. It \nwas not easy to get at the panic-stricken creatures, \nand neither taunts nor challenges could induce them \nto show themselves ; nor, indeed, is it surprising that \nthe poor wretches were reluctant to come out and be \nkilled. Their further pursuit was therefore aban- \ndoned, and the party returned to the stockade.^ \n\n1 These are the incidents described by Longfellow in the Seventh \nPart of his poem, The Courtship of Miles Standish. In using- his ma^ \n\n\n1623. A HOMERIC EPISODE. 95 \n\nThough the object of the expedition was now ac- \ncomplished, before Standish returned with his own \ncompany to Plymouth the course to be pursued by \nWeston's people had to be decided upon. They could \nremain where they were ; if they did not wish to \n\nterials it cannot be too much regretted that Mr. Longfellow did not see \nfit to adhere more closely to the facts as they stand recorded. It cer- \ntainly does not appear that for poetical effect he has improved upon \nthem. His poem is a New England classic. Probably at least nine \npeople out of ten, who know of these incidents at all, know of them \nthrough it. This also will continue to be the case. Nothing certainly \ncan be more Homeric and picturesque than Pratt's struggle through \nthe wilderness, — than Standish's voyage in his open boat to Wessa- \ngusset, along the bleak surf-beaten shore, in the stormy eastern \nweather, — than the fierce hand to knife death -grapple in the rude \nlog-house within the Wessagusset stockade. The whole is, in the \noriginals, full of life, simplicity and vigor, needing only to be turned \ninto verse. But in place of the voyage we have in Longfellow's \npoem a march through the woods, Avhich never took place and con- \ntains in it nothing characteristic, — an interview before an Indian \nencampment \" pitched on the edge of a meadow, between the sea and \nthe forest,\" at which the knife scene is enacted, instead of in the rude \nblock-house, — and finally, the killing takes place amid a discharge \nof firearms, and \" there on the flowers of the meadow the warriors\" \nare made to lie ; whereas in fact they died far more vigorously, as \nwell as poetically, on the blood-soaked floor of the log-house in which \nthey were surprised, \"■ not making any fearful noise, but catching at \ntheir weapons and striving to the last.\" And as for \" flowers,\" it was \nearly in April and there was still snow on the ground. \n\nReading The Courtship of Miles Standish, and looking at the paint- \nings upon the walls of the Memorial Hall at Plymouth and of the \nCapitol at Washington, it is impossible for any one at all imbued \nwith the real spirit of the early colonial period not to entertain a hope \nthat the time may come when a school of historical poets and painters \nshall arise who will deal truthfully and vigorously with these scenes, \nstudying the localities and the authorities carefully and in a realistic \nspirit, instead of evolving at once facts, dress, features and scenery from \nan inner and where not a weak at least a grotesque consciousness. In \nour early New England scenes the real facts are good enough, strong \nenough and picturesque enough for any one, be he historian, poet or \npainter. They certainly have not yet been, nor are they likely soon \nto be, improved upon. \n\n\n96 SMOKING FLAX BLOOD-QUENCHED. April, \n\ndo that, they might either follow Saunders to the \neastward, or, accepting an offer made by Bradford \nthrough Standish, return with the latter to Plymouth. \nAs to the last proposition, it would seem that even the \nhardships of the recent winter had failed to obliterate \nfrom the memory of those \" profane fellows \" the \nsevere justice, the long j^rayers and the short commons \nof the preceding summer. They evinced small incli- \nnation to return to Plymouth. As to remaining where \nthey were, Standish contemptuously assured them that \nhe would not fear to do so with a smaller force than \ntheirs ; but they were not Standishes, and felt no call \nto the heroic. Moreover, they were thoroughly out of \nconceit with the wilderness, and especially with a \nNew England wilderness in winter. All their hopes \nand anticipations at coming had been disappointed, and \nthey were tired of looking for Weston's appearance \nand the supplies that were to come with him. Doubt- \nless, too, they were terrified at the murderous deeds in \nwhich they had just taken part ; and, weak and few \nas they knew the Indians to be, they were afraid of \nthem. They dreaded the day of savage reckoning \nwhich might come after their energetic ally should be \ngone. In short, the single desire with most of them \nwas to get away from the hateful place, and that as \ndirectly and quickly as possible ; but in doing so they \nnot unnaturally wished to go where there was a chance \nof finding something to eat. The majority therefore \ndetermined to follow Saunders, — hoping either to \nmeet Weston at the fishing stations, or, if they failed \nin that, to at least work their way back to England. \nFollowing his instructions, Standish then proceeded to \nsupply the Swan as well as he could for her short \nvoyage ; and so scant was his store, that when he had \n\n\n1623. A GHASTLY FREIGHT. 97 \n\ndone this, he scarcely had food enough left for his own \nparty until they could get back to Plymouth. The \nSwan and the Plymouth shallop set sail from Wessa- \ngusset in company ; but when they came to the har- \nbor's mouth they stood away on different courses, the \nformer going off to the north and east, while the latter \nfollowed the familiar trend of the shore to the south. \nStandish had obeyed to the letter the stern instruc- \ntions which he had himself inspired at his setting \nforth ; for, safely stowed away in his boat, a ghastly \nfreight, he bore back with him the gory head of \nWituwamat, \"that bloody and bold villain before \nspoken of.\" \n\nSuch was the ignominious end of the first attempt \nat European settlement on the shores of Boston Bay. \nWhen he heard of it at Plymouth the sedate Bradford \ngave evidence that though he was a Pilgrim and a \nSeparatist he was also a human being, for he sent a \ngrim chuckle of exultation after Thomas Weston's \nvanishino: and vao:abond crew. \" This was the end \nof these that sometime hosted of their strength,\" he \nwrote, \" and what they would doe and bring to pass, in \ncomparison of the people hear ; . . . and said at their \nfirst arrivall, w^hen they saw the wants hear, that they \nwould take another course, and not to fall into such a \ncondition as this simple people were come too. But \na mans way is not in his owne power ; God can make \nthe weake to stand ; let him also that standeth take \nheed least he fall.\" Weston's attempt at a plantation \ncertainly had fallen, for there remained of it at \nWessagusset nothing but some deserted block-houses. \nA few stragglers, three probably in all, including one \nman who had thrown his lot in with the savages, \nabandoning civilized life and taking unto himself a \n\n\n98 SMOKING FLAX BLOOD-QUENCHED. April, \n\nsquaw, were left behind when the others went away. \nThey had disregarded the summons to come in, and \nafter the massacre could not be reached ; but the \nPlymouth people subsequently *did what they could to \nsave them. The savage who had followed Pratt, and, \ninstead of stopping at Plymouth, gone on further \nsouth, had, on his return, come into the settlement and \nat once been secured. In manacles and under strict \nguard, he was confined in the new fort, that being the \nfirst day that ever any watch was there kept. When \nStandish safely returned, and Wituwamat's head was \nperched in triumph on the roof of the captive's prison, \nhe \" looked piteously \" at it, and, being asked whether \nhe recognized it, answered \" Yea.\" Doubtless he \nexpected his own head would soon keep it company. \nBut Governor Bradford, rightly concluding that \nenough in the way of severity had now been done, \nordered the prisoner's release, sending through him a \nmessage to the sachem Aberdecest to the effect that \nhe must at once deliver up in safety the three captive \nsettlers, and see that no damage was done to the build- \ning's at Wessag'usset. The buildino's remained undis- \nturbed : but, before Bradford's message reached Aber- \ndecest, the captives had already been despatched. The \nmessenger thereupon did not dare return to Phonouth ; \nand, indeed, such was the terror felt among the Massa- \nchusetts lest the revenge they took on these men should \nbe visited on their own heads, that for a time no one \namong them dared show himself. A woman at last \ncame in bringing a very humble message. She said \nthat Aberdecest would fain be at peace with Plymouth, \nand that in obedience to their commands he would \nhave sent the captives had they not been already dead \nwhen those commands reached him. It would seem, \n\n\n1623. INDIAN CAPTIVES, 99 \n\nalso, that their killing was not unaccompanied by that \nino:enious refinement of torture which ever made death \npreferable to Indian captivity ; for afterwards, speak- \ning of their fate, one of the savages said, — \" When \nwe killed your men they cried and made ill-favored \nfaces.\" 1 \n\nSome months later the news of the Wessagusset affair \nreached Ley den, and by it the beloved pastor of- the \nPlymouth church was sorely moved. He wrote an \nearnest letter to his people in which he took the side \nof the natives, and expressed himself in a way whicb \nshows at once the high moral tone both of him who \nwrote the letter and of those to whom it was written. \nIt contained all that could now, in the ripe philan- \nthropy of two centuries and a half later, be said in \ncondemnation of what had been done. \n\n\" Concerning the killing of those poor Indians, of which \nwe heard at first by report, and since by more certain rela- \ntion, oh ! how happy a thing had it been, if you had con- \nverted some before you had killed any ; besides, where blood \nis once begun to be shed, it is seldom staunched of a long \ntime after. You will say they deserved it. I grant it ; but \nupon what provocations and invitements by those heathenish \nChristians ? Besides, you, being no magistrates over them, \nwere to consider, not what they deserved, but what you \nwere of necessity constrained to inflict. Necessity of this, \nespecially of killing so many, (and many more, it seems, \nthey would, if they could,) I see not. Methinks one or two \nprincipals should have been full enough, according to that \napproved rule, The punishment to the few, and the fear to \nmany. Upon this occasion let me be bold to exhort you \nseriously to consider of the disposition of your Captain, \nwhom I love, and am persuaded the Lord in great mercy \nand for much good hath sent you him, if you use him aright. \n\n1 IV. Mass. Hist. CM. iv. 486 ; Young, Chron. of Pilg. 344. \n\n\n100 SMOKING FLAX BLOOD-QUENCHED. April, \n\nHe is a man humble and meek amongst you, and towards \nall in ordinary course. But now if this be merely from an \nhuman spirit, there is cause to fear that by occasion, espe- \ncially of provocation, there may be wanting that tenderness \nof the life of man (made after God's image) which is meet. \nIt is also a thing more glorious in men's eyes, than pleasing \nin God's, or convenient for Christians, to be a terror to \npoor, barbarous people ; and indeed I am afraid lest, by \nthese occasions, others should be drawn to affect a kind of \nruffling course in the world. I doubt not but you will take \nin good part these things which I write, and as there is \ncause make use of them.\" \n\nThat the Wessagusset killing amounted to a massa- \ncre, and a cold blooded one, — that it failed to include \nall the male Indians thereabouts simply because they \ncould not be so entrapped that they might all be \nslaughtered at once, — that, so far as it went, it was a \nbutchery, — all this admits of no doubt. The savages \nwere the first occupants of the soil ; they had sus- \ntained many and grievous wrongs at the hands of \nthose newcomers whom they had welcomed ; there \nwas for them in this world no redress. Had the situ- \nation been reversed, and the Indians, after similar \nfashion, set upon the Europeans in a moment of un- \nsuspecting intercourse, no language would have been \nfound strong enough to describe in the page of history \ntheir craft, their stealth and their cruelty. In this, \nas in everything, the European has had the last word. \nHe tells the tale. Under these circumstances, while \nit is impossible to deny, it is contemptible, as is so \noften done, to go about to palliate. Yet, admitting \neverything which in harshest language modern phi- \nlanthropy could assert, there is still no reasonable \ndoubt that, in the practical working of human events, \n\n\n1623. INDIAN CHARACTER. 101 \n\nthe course approved in advance by the Plymouth \nmagistrates, and ruthlessly put in execution by Stan- \ndish, was in this case the most merciful, the wisest and, \nconsequently, the most justifiable course. The essen- \ntial fact was, and is, that the settlers were surrounded \nby Indians and had to deal with them ; and Indians \nwere not Europeans. They could be dealt with suc- \ncessfully, either in the way of kindness or severity, only \nby dealing with them as what they were, — partially \ndeveloped, savage, human beings. Now it has already \nbeen observed that Standish understood the Indian \ncharacter, and correctly measured the savage as an \nantagonist. He understood the Indian, too, through \nno process of reasoning, for it may well be questioned \nwhether reasoning was exactly Miles Standish's strong \npoint. It was with him evidently a matter of intui- \ntion. In other words, he had the same natural faculty \nfor dealing with Indians which some men have for \ndealing with horses, and others with dogs ; and this \nnatural faculty caused him at the outset to realize that \ntruth which Parkman says the French, — both soldiers \nand priests, — though more successful than any other \nEuropeans in dealing with the savages, learned only \nslowly and through bitter experience, — the truth, \nnamely, that \" in the case of hostile Indians no good \ncan come of attempts to conciliate, unless respect is \nfirst imposed by a sufficient castigation.\" ^ \n\nThat the Indians in this case, however made so, \nwere hostile, that a widespread conspiracy existed, \nand that their plague-stricken condition alone pre- \nvented the ill-ordered proceedings at Wessagusset \nfrom ending in a general and on the part of the sav- \nages most justifiable Indian war, can admit of no \n1 Old Regime, 183. \n\n\n102 SMOKING FLAX BLOOD-QUENCHED. April, \n\ndoubt. If the Massachusetts were weak, the Narra- \ngansetts and the Pequots were strong. The movement, \nonce successfully started, might well set the whole im- \nmeasurable wilderness in commotion. The course of \ntrue wisdom, therefore, w^as to extinguish the spark, \nand to extingTiish it completely, — not to wait to fight \nthe flame. Least of all was the time meet for making \nproselytes. Stung by the wrongs they had endured, \nand despising those at whose hands they had suffered, \nthe savages were in a frame of mind little receptive \nof gospel truths. They were thinking rather of scalps \nand the war-path than of conversion. Chastisement \nhad to precede conciliation ; and consequently, in the \nperilous case in which those composing it at Plymouth \nthen were, John Robinson's flock stood more in need \nof Miles Standish, however fierce and unreasoning, \nthan of himself, however forbearing and saintly. \n\nIt is far nobler to preach and to convert than to \nstrike ; but there are times when a blow is necessary, \nand then it is well if one blow sufficeth. Standish \nstruck the savages at Wessagusset in the way they \nbest understood. Stealth, it is to be remembered, is \nto the Indian what strategy is to the European. It \nis his method of conducting war. In 1623 he saw \nnothing in it that was cowardly, nothing that was \nbrutal ; and he sees nothing now. On the contrary \nhe dealt in concealments, in conspiracies, in deceits \nand in surprises. To take your enemy unawares, and \nkill him, was in his eyes the great warrior's part. To \nattack him openly was in his eyes folly ; to have mercy \non him when vanquished was weakness. Standish \ntherefore merely beat them, and he beat them terribly, \nwith their own weapons. He showed himself more \nstealthy, more deceitful, more ferocious and more \n\n\n1623. ''LIKE MEN DISTRACTED:' 103 \n\ndaring than he among them whom, in all these regards, \nthey most admired. With his own hand he had killed \ntheir strongest and fiercest warrior, who was also the \nmost cunning of them all, their master in treacheries ; \nand he had killed him with the knife snatched from \nthe warrior's own neck. Hence the Indian's fear of \nStandish now knew no bounds. Those implicated in \nthe conspiracy against Wessagusset were at once con- \nscience and panic stricken. Aberdecest in his terror \nforsook his habitation and removed daily from place \nto place. Canacum, remembering the scene in his \nwigwam, hid himself in the swamp, and there died of \nprivation and exposure. Yet another sachem, hoping \nto ingratiate himself with the avenger, sent a canoe \nladen with peace-offerings to Plymouth. Near the \nmouth of the harbor it was cast away, and three of \nhis emissaries were drowned. Thomas Morton wrote \nthat such a terror was Standish, after this event, \" that \nthe savao^es durst never make to a head ao^ainst them \nany more ; \" ^ while the historian of Plymouth said \nthat \" this sudden and unexpected execution, together \nwith the just judgment of God upon their guilty con- \nsciences, hath so terrified and amazed [the savages] \nas in like manner they forsook their houses, running \nto and fro like men distracted, living in swamps and \nother desert places, and so brought manifold diseases \non themselves, whereof very many are dead.\" ^ \n\nThus at the cost of seven lives, ruthlessly, treacher- \nously taken, immediate Indian hostilities were averted, \nand the inevitable life and death struggle with the \naborigines was deferred for half a century, when it \nhad to result in the swift destruction of the inferior \nrace. That it should also have resulted in consionino: \n\n1 N. E. Canaan, 108. 2 Young, Chron. of Pilg. 344-5. \n\n\n104 SMOKING FLAX BLOOD-QUENCHED. April \n\nto hopeless West Indian slavery the infant grandchild \nof that Massasoit whose friendly caution now saved \nPlymouth, must remain a blot on New England his- \ntory in comparison with which the Wessagusset killing \nwas an act of mercy. He, at least, might have been \nsaved and converted, that he might have become to a \nMassachusetts progeny what Pocahontas is to one of \nVirginia. For a New-Englander to trace a descent \nfrom Massasoit would indeed be matter of family \npride.^ \n\nMeanwhile the Wessagusset killing was Standish's \nlast combat with the Indians, for from that time for- \nward, as long as he lived, there was peace between \nthem and the Plymouth colony. At Wessagusset \nalso a few straggling settlers a little later lived for \nyears buried deep in the solitude, and the savages \ndid not molest them. In fact, so far as the dying \ntribe of the Massachusetts was concerned, the fierce \nblow struck in those early days of April, 1623, was a \nfinal one. They could not rally from it. Out of less \nthan twoscore warriors seven had been taken off. \nMassacre thus completed the work of pestilence. It \nmay have been necessary, — almost certainly it was \nbest ; but, thinking of the terrible wasting which the \nbroken-spirited tribe had so recently undergone at the \nhand of Providence, it must be admitted that, on this \noccasion at least, the Plymouth Fathers broke the \nbruised reed and quenched the smoking flax. \n\n^ See the volume entitled Indian History^ Biography and Genealogy : \nPertaining to the good Sachem Massasoit, prepared by Gen. E. W. Pearce \nand published at North Abing-ton, Mass., in 1878, by Mrs. Zerviah \nGould Mitchell. Mrs. Mitchell, who claimed to be a descendant in \nthe seventh generation from Massasoit, was in 1888 still living- at Bet- \nty's Neck on the Indian reservation in Middleboroug-h, Mass. She \nhad children. The family is Indian. \n\n\nCHAPTER VII. \n\nSIR FERDINANDO GORGES AND THE COUNCIL FOR \nNEW ENGLAND. \n\n\"The pale and houses at Wessagusset,\" which \nBradford cautioned the savages not to destroy, were \ndestined to remain unoccupied a few months only ; \nfor Weston's company departed early in April, 1623, \nand b}^ the middle of September following the place \nwas taken possession of by others. Captain Robert \nGorges, the individual at the head of those composing \nthe new enterprise, was a very different person from \nThomas Weston, and yet in his way quite as little \ncalculated to grapple successfully with the hard prob- \nlem of New England colonization. Weston was a \nmerchant adventurer, a man of the city and a trader ; \nGorges was a gentleman adventurer, a man of the \ncourt and a soldier. The object of the former had \nbeen the establishment of a plantation and trading- \npost. The dream of the latter was to find a species \nof palatinate for himself, a little principality of his \nown, in the New World. \n\nRobert Gorges was the younger of the two sons of \nthat Sir Ferdinando already mentioned in connection \nwith Squanto's European experience. Like Raleigh \nand Smith, only in less degree, the elder Gorges re- \nmains one of the picturesque characters in the settle- \nment of English-speaking America. He stands out \namong the rest with the face and bearing of a cava- \n\n\nlOo SIR FERDINANDO GORGES. 1566-97. \n\nlier. Though lils name had a Spanish sound, there \nwas no Spanish blood in the Gorges veins ; on the \ncontrary, himself a typical Englishman of the Eliza- \nbethan period. Sir Ferdinando came of old West \nCountry stock, of pure English descent, being con- \nnected with the Russells and the Ealeighs. Of his \nearly life scarce anything is known, even the date of \nhis birth, which took place somewhere between 1566 \nand 1569, being uncertain. For some reason it seems \nnot to have been recorded.^ When quite young, Sir \nFerdinando devoted himself to that half naval, half \nmilitary career so common among the men of that \ntime, and followed it steadily for more than half a \ncentury. The first mention made of him is as a cap- \ntain in the force sent to the relief of Sluys, when that \nplace was besieged by the Duke of Parma in the \nspring of 1587. The next year he was a j^risoner of \nwar at Lisle. In 1589 he was engaged in the siege \nof Paris, and, it is said, was borne wounded from the \nbreach by Henry of Navarre himself. Two years af- \nterwards he is heard of again as one of the officers of \nthe contingent sent over by Elizabeth under the com- \nmand of the Earl of Essex to assist the Huguenots, \nand with that force he took an active part in the siege \nof Rouen.2 A few years later he was made military \ngovernor of Plymouth, and when, in 1597, the Ferrol \nexpedition was sent out against Spain, Gorges was \nappointed one of the counsellors of Essex, who was \nin chief command, with the rank of sergeant-major. \nHe sailed in command of the Dreadnaught ; but \nwhen, shortly after setting out, the unlucky fleet was \n\n1 Baxter, Memoir of Gorges (Prince Society Publications), 3. \n\n2 Devereux, Earls of Essex, i. 271 ; Markham, The Fighting Veres; \nIV. Mass. Hist. Coll. vu. 342. \n\n\n1600. ROBERT, EARL OF ESSEX. 107 \n\ndispersed by a gale, he returned with the others to \nport. The expedition refitted and again set sail, but \nthis time ill-health compelled Gorges to remain be- \nhind, and he did not rejoin it. Recognized as one of \nEssex's officers, he seems to have been warmly at- \ntached to that unfortunate nobleman ; and, indeed, at \na little later day, it was in connection with Essex's \nmad attempt at an insurrection that the name of Sir \nFerdinando finds its only mention in English history, \n— a mention which he himself would gladly have fore- \ngone. The incident, as will presently be seen, had a \nremote but not unimportant bearing on the subsequent \ncourse of events in the settlement of Massachusetts. \nIn that settlement the two opposing forces in church \nand state, which then divided England, were again \nconfronted ; there, too, Cavalier was opposed to Puri- \ntan, and on the Cavalier side Gorges was the central, \nit might almost be said the only leading figure. Es- \nsex was the popular Puritan hero, and Gorges' connec- \ntion with him affected the whole subsequent life and \npolitical standing of the latter. It becomes in this \nway a part of American history. \n\nHot-headed, generous, attractive and shallow, Robert \nDevereux, the second Earl of Essex, was the favorite \nof Queen Elizabeth's later years. She demeaned her- \nself towards him, after her wont. First she raised \nhim, when hardly more than a boy, to high commands \nfor which he was not fitted ; then she rebuked his \npetulance by soundly boxing his ears in presence of \nher counsellors ; finally she signed his death warrant, \nand, having done so, ever afterwards mourned for him. \nWhen, after his disastrous Irish failure in 1600, Essex \nreturned in hot haste to court. Gorges was military \ngovernor of Plymouth. Failing to obtain the redress \n\n\n108 SIR FERDINANDO GORGES. Feb. \n\nhe demanded at the Queen's hands, the Earl a year \nlater summoned all his friends to London. To Gorges \namong others, though there had been no communica- \ntion between them for two years previous, he wrote a \nletter full of complaints of the treatment he had re- \nceived. Gorges responded in person ; and, coming \nup to London, took part in the treasonable confer- \nences held at Essex-house during the first week of \nFebruary, 1601. When finally, on Sunday the 8th, \napparently more because he knew not what else to do \nthan with any definite plan, Essex sallied out into the \nStrand on foot at the head of his band of friends and \nretainers and made his bootless insurrectionary rush \ninto the city. Gorges was at his side. After the hope- \nlessness of exciting even a tumult became apparent, \nthe Earl tried to make his way back to Essex-house, \nin which he had left Popham the Chief Justice and \nEgerton the Lord Keeper (sent in the morning by the \nQueen to command him to desist from his purposes) \nlocked up and under guard ; but the return was not \nso easy as the going forth. At Ludgate the now \npanic-stricken and fast dwindling party found their \npath obstructed by a chain drawn across the street, \nand guarded by a company of soldiers. A parley \ntook place, followed by a futile effort to force the way. \nGorges then bethought himself of a plan by which \nthe Earl might possibly yet be extricated from his \ndesperate position. The utter failure of the move- \nment from Essex-house was not yet known at court, \nwhere the tumult occasioned by it in the city had \nprobably caused alarm if not panic. It was, there- \nfore, barely possible that souie terms might be ob- \ntained, could the friends of Essex but communicate \nwith the court at once, before the alarm subsided. \n\n\n1621. INSURRECTIO UNIUS DIEI. 109 \n\nThe charge subsequently made against Gorges was \nthat, in doing what he now did, he acted solely on \nhis own responsibility, and with a view to his own \nsafety. He, on the contrary, always asserted that \nbefore leaving Essex he told the Earl of his scheme, \nand was authorized to do something in that way if he \ncould. This seems wholly probable. It is to be re- \nmembered that everything was in confusion. Some- \nthing had to be done, and that immediately. There \nwas no time for discussion. Essex himself was so \nbewildered and agitated that the sweat flowed from \nhim like water, and he was capable neither of receiv- \ning counsel nor of giving orders. Under these cir- \ncumstances, in the midst of the flight from Ludgate, \nGorges, it would seem, hurriedly proposed something \nto his bewildered leader. The latter did not well un- \nderstand what it was, but it seemed to hold out a \nchance ; so he assented to it, as he would have as- \nsented to anything else. Gorges then slipped away, \nand succeeded in getting back to Essex-house. \n\nHis idea was to release Popham, the Chief Justice, \nwith whom his personal relations were close, and go \nwith him at once to Westminster, there to make, \nthrough his intervention, such terms as might be pos- \nsible for the Earl. Unfortunately Chief Justice Pop- \nham was a sturdy Englishman whose nerves were not \neasily disturbed. He had been improving his hours \nof confinement with his eye at a keyhole,^ taking \n\n1 Popham presided as Chief Justice at the trial of some of the con- \nspirators. In the course of the proceedings as reported in the case of \nSir Christopher Blunt {State Trials^ ed. 1766, vii. 52), appears the \nfollowing- : — \" The Lord-Chief -Justice hereupon asked Sir Christo- \npher Blunt, why they stood at the great chamber-door, with muskets \ncharged and matches in their hands ; which, through the key-hole, the \nLord-Chief- Justice said, he discerned.\" \n\n\n110 ^7A' FERDINANDO GORGES. Feb. \n\nobservations of those of the conspirators having him \nin charge ; and now, though quite willing to leave \nEssex-house, he wholly refused to do so unless the \nLord Keeper, the companion of his mission, left it \nwith him. Gorges had to act on his own responsibil- \nity and instantly, for moments were precious. Doing \nso, he ordered the release of the Lord Keeper likewise, \nand, hurrying the two into a boat at the riverside, \nstarted for Westminster. As they went he put the \nbest face he could on the situation. He represented \nthe tumult in the city as formidable, and tried to im- \npress on Chief Justice and Lord Keeper the necessity \nof something being done at once to appease it. His \nscheme was, perhaps, as feasible as any which could \nthen have been devised, had there but been time in \nwhich to carry it out ; for, in reality, the alarm all \nday at court had been much greater and more general \nthan he could have supposed. The Queen alone had \nmaintained her composure. But before Gorges reached \nthe council chamber the panic had already begun to \nsubside, for tidings were fast coming in of Essex's \ncomplete failure and the growing difficulties of his \nposition. It was known that the Earl's capture had \nbecome a question of merely a few hours. Her fallen \nfavorite's insurrectio unms diei, as Elizabeth con- \ntemptuously called it, never achieved the proportions \nof a good-sized city riot. \n\nEssex meanwhile, after his repulse from the chain \nat Ludgate, turned back into the city, and, getting \ndown to the riverside, succeeded at last in making his \nway back to Essex-house by water ; but only to find \nhimself there surrounded, with both the Chief Justice \nand the Lord Keeper released and gone. In his utter \ndesperation he and those about him seem to have sup- \n\n\n1621. A STATE TRIAL. Ill \n\nposed that some use as hostages might now have been \nmade of those two high officials ; but it is not easy \nto see what this use could have been. There was \nnothing for the Eaii and his followers to do except to \nsurrender themselves. This both they and those who \nheld them surrounded knew perfectly well. It would \nhave been a distinct aggravation of their offence if, \nwhen they surrendered, the two highest officials of \nthe law had been found still prisoners in their hands. \nAs a matter of fact, therefore, the release by Gorges \nof Egerton and Popham in no way made worse a \nsituation which was already hopeless. As it grew to- \nwards night the unfortunate Earl gave himself up, \nhaving continued to the very end a pitiable spectacle \nof hesitating irresolution. \n\nTen days later the trial took place. Of the guilt \nof Essex there could be no doubt ; but the evidence \nchiefly relied upon against him was contained in the \nwritten examinations of certain of his associates, \nprominent among whom was Gorges. It was in con- \nnection with Gorges also that the most striking and \npainful incident of the proceedings occurred, — the \nincident which imj)ressed itself most vividly on the \nmemories of all present. Up to the point at which \nGorges' examination was produced, no witnesses had \nbeen called or oral evidence given. But when the \ncounsel for the crown read from this paj^er the state- \nment that, as a result of the February conferences at \nEssex-house, the decision as to the course to be pur- \nsued had been left wholly with the Earl, who had \nthereupon on Saturday evening \" resolved the next \nday to put in practice the moving of his friends in \nthe city,\" — when this statement was read Essex was \ngreatly moved. He at once demanded that the wit- \n\n\n112 SIR FERDINANDO GORGES. Feb. \n\nness should be produced, in order that he might inter- \nroi^ate hini face to face. Goro^es was at the time a \nprisoner in the Gate house. He was sent for and \nbrought into Westminster Hall, where the Lords were \nsitting as a court for the trial of a peer ; and there, \nafter he had repeated his statement, adding further \n\" that he advised the Earl, at his return out of the \ncity to his house, to go and submit himself to her \nMajesty,\" the following painful colloquy ensued : — \n\nEssex. Good Sir Ferdinand©, I pray thee speak openly \nwhatsoever thou dost remember ; with all my heart I de- \nsire thee to speak freely ; I see thou desirest to live, and \nif it please her Majesty to be merciful unto you, I shall be \nglad and will pray for it ; yet I pray thee, speak like a \nman. \n\nSir F. Gorges. All that I can remember I liave delivered \nin my Examination, and further I cannot say. \n\nEssex. Sir Ferdinand©, I wish you might speak any- \nthing that might do yourself good ; but remember your \nreputation, and that you are a gentleman ; I pray you \nanswer me, did you advise me to leave my enterprise ? \n\nSir F. Gorge. My Lord, I think I did. \n\nEssex. Nay, it is no time to answer now upon thinking ; \nthese are not things to be forgotten ; did you indeed so \ncounsel me ? \n\nSir F. Gorge. I did. \n\nEssex. My Lords, look upon Sir Ferdinando, and see if \nhe looks hke himself. All the world shall see, by my death \nand his life, whose testimony is the truest.^ \n\nEven this meagre abstract of what passed shows \nthat it was the most striking episode of the whole trial. \nEssex had before been wrangling fiercely with Coke ; \nand later there was a bitter passage between him and \n\n1 Jardine, Criminal Trials, i. 334. \n\n\n1601. CONFRONTED. 113 \n\nBacon, a passage which history has not forgotten.^ \nBut Coke and Bacon were lawyers and counsel for the \ncrown ; with Gorges it was different. In Gorges, Es- \nsex was confronted with his own familiar friend, the \nconfidant of his schemes, now turned state's evidence \nagainst him. Those present at the trial reported that \nSir Ferdinando was in appearance pale and discom- \nposed ; and, indeed, this is still apparent in his replies ; \nwhile, on the other hand, the mingled pathos, haughti- \nness and despair of Essex ring through his questions. \nThe \" remember that you are a gentleman,\" following \nhard on the \" I see thou desirest to live,\" and end- \ning in the passionate cry, \"look upon Sir Ferdinando,\" \nall combined to make up a scene which Englishmen of \nthat day never forgot. \n\nAll else in Gorges' connection with Essex's mad \nfolly and unhappy fate admits of extenuation or ex- \ncuse. That trial scene does not. It is final and \nfatal. Gorges never got over it, and it cannot now \nbe explained away. His answers to the other charges \nwhich were, subsequently to the Earl's death, made \nagainst him, are clear and satisfactory. It was alleged \nthat early on the morning of the fatal Sunday he had \nmet Sir Walter Raleigh in a boat on the Thames, and \nhad betrayed to him Essex's design ; but Gorges an- \nswered very truly, that the meeting took place before \nwitnesses, and with the Earl's knowledge and con- \nsent, while Raleigh was already fully informed as to \nall that was going on, and indeed had sought the in- \nterview, in consequence of this knowledge, for the \nexpress purpose of warning his kinsman, Sir Ferdi- \nnando, to look after his own safety while he yet could. \n\n^ Macaulay, Essays, Lord Bacon; Campbell, Lives of Lord Chan- \ncellors, ch. liii. \n\n\n114 SIR FERDINANDO GORGES. Feb. \n\nSo as to the release of the imprisoned Chief Justice \nand Lord Keeper, the supposed hostages. Gorges \nwell replied to the charge of treachery in this matter, \nthat he acted with such consent of the Earl as the \nhurry and tumult of the situation permitted, and that \nat least, in what he did, he meant for the best. But \nwhen at last it came to the scene in Westminster \nHall, with Essex and Gorges face to face, it was not \npossible to extenuate. It was plain that his impris- \nonment and the fear of a traitor's death had so \nwrought upon Gorges' mind that he could not resist \nthe temj^tation to save, if he could, his own head by \ngiving evidence which bore hard on his chief. \n\nHis shortcoming stopped there, and his attitude \nthen and afterwards, whe'n compared with the ig- \nnoble bearing of Bacon in the same memorable pro- \nceedings, almost commands respect. Gorges failed to \nremember that he was a gentleman ; perhaps, even, he \nwas a cowardly apostate, — but an eager one he was \nnot. What he did, he at least did to save his life. \nUnlike Bacon, he did not seem to feel a joy in the \nwork of pressing down his falling patron ; nor later \ndid he seek to insure his own safety by traducing the \nmemory of his friend. On the contrary, while freshly \nsmarting under the stigma of treachery with which the \nEarl had forever branded him, — while yet a prisoner \nin the Gate house, trembling for his head, — he wrote \nof Essex, and took his own appeal to the verdict of \nposterity, in words so manly, direct and pathetic that \nthey seem rather to belong to the nineteenth century \nthan to the sixteeenth. Certainly Gorges never wrote \nso well again. \n\n\" Like will to like, and every man will keep company \nwith such as he is himself ; he was of the same profession \n\n\n1601. THE PURITAN'S EARL. 115 \n\nthat T was, and of a free and noble spirit. But I must say \nno more, for he is gone, and I am here ; I loved him alive, \nand cannot hate him being dead; he had some imperfec- \ntions — so have all men ; he had many virtues — so have \nfew ; and for those his virtues I loved him ; and when time; \nwhich is the trial of all truths, hath run his course, it shall \nappear that I am wronged in the opinion of this idle age. \nIn the mean time, I presume this that I have said is suffi- \ncient to satisfy the wise and discreet : for the rest, whatever \nI can do is but labor lost, and, therefore, I propose not to \ntrouble you nor myself at this time any further.\" ^ \n\nThe appeal was taken in vain. The popularity of \nEssex with his countrymen is one of the inexplicable \nthings in English history. His biographer confesses \nhimself unable to account for it ; ^ yet in 1626, a quar- \nter of a century after the Earl's death, the Duke of \nBuckingham, exulting in the glory he felt sure was to \ncome to him from the Isle of Rhe expedition, could \nthink of no stronger way of expressing his hopes than \nby boasting that \" before midsummer he should be \nmore honored and beloved by the commons than ever \nwas the Earl of Essex.\" ^ By the Puritans especially \nEssex was wellnigh adored ; he was looked upon not \nonly as their patron and protector, but as one of them- \nselves. So strong, indeed, was the hold he had on the \nhearts and memories of this most tenacious and vin- \ndictive of all types of men, that it was still plainly \nto be seen forty years later, when they and the King \ncame to blows. The secretary of the Long Parlia- \nment, in writing its history,* mentions the popularity \n\n1 Sir Ferdinando Gorges, ii. 117, 118, Prince Society Publications. \n^ Devereux, Earls of Essex, ii. 102. \n\n3 Disraeli, Curiosities of Literature (ed. 1863), iii. 458. See, also, \nBirch, Memoirs of the Reign of Queen Elizabeth, B. XII. \n\n4 May, Hist, of Long Pari. 162. \n\n\n116 SIR FERDINANDO GORGES. 1601. \n\nof the father as a principal reason for the appoint- \nment to chief military command of his son, — another \nEarl of Essex, without the assistance of whose great \nname Clarendon does not scruple to say it would have \n'' been utterly impossible for the two houses of Parlia- \nment to have raised an army then.'' ^ \n\nIt was this darling of the people, this protector of \nthe Puritans, that Sir Ferdinando Gorges was thought \nto have betrayed. When a vague general impression \nof this kind in regard to any individual takes posses- \nsion of the public mind, it is almost impossible to dis- \nlodge it. If this is true even now, when counter evi- \ndence can be spread before the eyes of every one, it \nwas much more true in 1601. So far as the people \nand the Puritans were concerned. Gorges might as \nwell have spared himself the trouble of his disavow- \nals. He never again found any favor in their eyes. \nOn the contrary, as will presently be seen,^ twenty \nyears later, at the very moment when the enterprise \nwhich was the dream of his life seemed nearest to suc- \ncess, Gorges found himself confronted and thwarted \nby a Puritan House of Commons, acting under the \nstrong lead of the most vindictive man of that vin- \ndictive time, — a man who must have remembered \nhim chiefly in connection with the dramatic scene in \nAVestminster Hall, at the crisis of the trial of the two \nEarls. \n\nQueen Elizabeth survived Essex a little over three \nyears. AVith her death the cloud of royal displeas- \nure, which had cast a dark shadow of uncertainty on \nthe lives of all the Earl's associates, disappeared, and \nwhen in March, 1603, James ascended the throne they \nfound themselves once more at liberty and even in fa- \n1 Rebellion, B. V. § 33. ^ i^fra, 126-9. \n\n\n1601-6. THE GOVERNOR OF PLYMOUTH. 117 \n\nvor. Gorges, who had been released from prison in Jan- \nuary, 1601, was now reappointed to his old government \nat Plymouth. He was there, rusting away in the dull \nroutine of arsenal life, as a man of active mind needs \nmust, when in 1605 Weymouth returned from his voy- \nage to the coast of Maine. The deep interest w^iich \nhis explorations and reports of the country excited in \nthe mind of the governor of Plymouth have already \nbeen alluded to.^ Possessing much of his kinsman \nRaleigh's love of adventure and craving for the un- \nknown. Sir Ferdinando then went systematically to \nwork informing himself in every possible way of that \nnew country beyond the seas, to occupy which became \nthereafter the labor as well as the dream of his long \nlife. In season and out of season he was instant upon \nit. Nothing sufficed to draw away his mind from it. \nHe had, too, a long life still before him ; for in 1605 \nhe could not yet have reached his fortieth birthday, \nand he survived his misadventure with Essex through \nnearly half a century. \n\nThe Penobscot savages brought over by Weymouth \nremained three years under Gorges' protection. They \nhad then become more or less familiar with his lan- \nguage, and had enlightened him so far as they could \nas to the region of which they were natives. He be-* \nlieved their fanciful stories ; and gradually his mind \nbecame absorbed in plans for preempting, as it were, \nall modern New England. Sir John Popham was \nstill Chief Justice, and Gorges' relations with him \nwould seem to have been of the most intimate char- \nacter ; for he interested Sir John in his schemes, \nand the Chief Justice was a man of substance. In \nthe spring of 1G06 two royal patents were obtained,^ \n\n^ Supra, 24-5. ^ Baxter, Gorges, ii. 12. \n\n\n118 SIR FERDINANDO GORGES. 1606-8. \n\nthrough Popham's influence, incorporating the First \nand Second Colonies, as they were designated, or the \nLondon and Plymouth Companies, as they were sub- \nsequently called, from the j^laces at which their meet- \nings were customarily held. Though not named among \nthe patentees of either, Popham and Gorges attached \nthemselves to the latter, or Plymouth Company, the \ngrant to which covered all the territory along the coast, \nand for fifty miles inward, between the mouth of the \nPotomac and the northern extremity of what is now \nthe island of Cape Breton. During the same spring \nof 1606 preliminary exploring parties were sent out, \none by Gorges and another by Poj)ham. The first of \nthese resulted disastrously, for the vessel was captured \nby the Spanish, and the release of its company was at \nlast obtained only with great difficulty and through \nPopham's influence at court. The other, or Popham \nexpedition, was more fortunate ; and the favorable \nreports brought back by it so encouraged the adven- \nturers that early in the summer of 1607 they sent out \nand established on the coast of Maine what has since \nbeen known as the Popham Colony. The experiment \nwas pretentious and short-lived. A single winter at \nthe mouth of the Kennebec sufficed ; and before the \n•autumn of 1608 was ended, the President being dead, \nthe Admiral, the Commander of the Forces, the Mas- \nter of the Ordnance, and all the other high-titled \nfunctionaries of the little trading-post, made haste \nback to England. \n\nIn the mean time Popham had died, and Gorges \nwas thus deprived of his influence and wealth. The \nloss was the heavier because his own means had been \nmuch reduced by the failure of 1606. As he himself \nexpressed it of another, his \" hopes were frozen to \n\n\n1608-20. FUTILE EFFORTS. 119 \n\ndeath . . . and [he] was necessitated to sit down with \nthe loss he had undergone.\" His associates now all \nfell away from him ; nevertheless for the next twelve \nyears Gorges continued his explorations and ventures, \n— sometimes alone, sometimes in partnership with \nothers. Purchasing a vessel, he became himself a pri- \nvate trader, sending it out to the Banks and coast for \nfish and furs, a good market for which was always to \nbe found. He even kept a party of men permanently \nestablished through several seasons among the Penob- \nscot savages. The business apparently was not un- \nprofitable, but the scale upon which he was compelled \nto conduct it was small and lacking in system ; or, as \nGorges expressed it, \" what I got one way I spent an- \nother, so that I began to grow weary of that business, \nas not for my turn till better times.\" In 1614, in part- \nnership with Shakespeare's patron and his own old \nconfederate in the Essex treason, the Earl of South- \nampton, he sent out under Captain Hobson the expe- \ndition to hunt for gold mines in Martha's Vineyard, \nunder the guidance of Epenow.^ He naturally se- \ncured no fruits from this venture, except a convincing \nexperience that the Indian was as cunning as the in- \nformation to be obtained from him was unreliable. \nA year later another expedition was sent out, this \ntime under the command of Captain John Smith ; but \nagain ill-fortune waited on Sir Ferdinando. What \nbetween stress of weather, which dismasted one vessel, \nand the French, who captured the other, the enter- \nprise was a total failure. \n\nThus things went on until 1620, the profits made in \nfishing and trading being eaten up in futile attempts \nat colonization. But all the while Gorges was acquir- \n1 Supra, 26-7. \n\n\n120 SIR FERDINANDO GORGES. 1608-20. \n\ning information and experience. In these respects he \nwas indefatigable. He got together all the journals, \nletters and charts he could lay his hands on, and care- \nfully studied them. He took possession of each new \nsavage he heard of in England, and rejoiced greatly \nwhen accident again threw in his way one whom he \nformerly had, and then for a time lost sight of. The \nstock of information he laid in from all these sources \nmust, from a purely trading point of view, have been \nsufficiently reliable, for most of it was derived from \nactual experience at the trading stations and on the \nfishing grounds ; but when, through the reports of his \nIndian captives, he sought to learn something of the \ninterior of the land, the result was ludicrously decep- \ntive. The Lake Irocoise, as Champlain was called, \nthen became less than an hundred miles from the sea, \nand in it were four islands full of pleasant woods and \nmeadows, the home of the deer, the elk, the beaver \nand the martin. The waters of the lake were alive \nwith the choicest species of fish ; and on its shores, it \nwas hinted, were mines of gold and precious stones. \nAll the surrounding region was made accessible by \ngreat rivers, flowing gently through a pleasant coun- \ntry, in which broad plains and fertile valleys were \nstudded with noble trees.^ The singular feature about \nthe ideal was that it came so near to the reality, and \nyet was so very different from it. The lake, the \nrivers, the valleys, the trees, the fish and the game, \neven the mines, were there ; only it so chanced that \nwhen taken all together, and with winter thrown in, \ninstead of making up that inviting Laconia which his \nsavages described and Gorges imagined, they resulted \nin repellent New England. The picture was true \n1 Belknap, Am. Biog. i. 376-7. \n\n\n1622. THE COUNCIL FOR NEW ENGLAND. 121 \n\nenough so far as it went ; merely the shadows had \nnot been put hi. \n\nHowever deceptive it may have been, this brilliant \nvision dwelt in Gorges' mind, the residt of years of \npatient toil and experience and inquiry ; and in 1620 \nhe seems to have thought the time had at last come \nfor another effort on a larger scale. He accordingly \ngathered himself up for it. The thing first to be done \nwas to secure a new royal patent. The Plymouth \nCompany was not in the right hands. It did not rep- \nresent enough capital, or enterprise, or power. Its \ncharter was, moreover, defective in several important \nrespects. Territorially, it covered the seacoast and \nfifty miles only into the interior ; and the company \nhad never made any regulation to secure to itself the \nexclusive right of fishing in the adjacent waters. In \nother words, inasmuch as it had secured the exclusive \nenjoyment of only what was valueless, as a monopoly \nit was not a success. \n\nHis old associates of the Essex faction being now \nin high favor at court. Gorges had no great difficulty \nin securing a fresh charter such as he desired. In \nthose days a domain across the Atlantic, larger than \na first-class European kingdom, was as carelessly as- \nsigned away to some body of petitioning adventurers \nas, under similar views of title, — could they but be \nimagined, — a like territory in the centre of Africa \nmight now be granted to a company proposing to con- \nstruct a railroad across the desert of Sahara. Neither \nin his new attempt did Gorges mean to find himself \nwithout such assistance as high rank and court influ- \nence could bring him. He caused, therefore, the \nnames of many of the most prominent characters in \nthe kingdom to be associated with his own in his new \n\n\n122 SIR FERDI NANDO GORGES. Nov. \n\npateut.^ There were forty of them in all, and the list \nreads like an abstract from the Peerage. First among \n\" our risrht trusty and well beloved cousins and conn- \ncillors \" came the Duke of Lenox, '' Lord Steward of \nour Household,\" followed by \" our High Admiral,\" \nBuckingham, Pembroke, the \" Lord Chamberlain of \nour Household,\" Hamilton, Arundel, Bath, South- \nampton, Salisbury, Warwick, Haddington and Zouch, \n\" Lord Warden of our Cincque Ports,\" — a duke, \ntwo marquises, six earls, a viscount, three barons and \nnineteen knights, besides the Dean of Exeter. \n\nAll of these, and a few more who claimed no title \nhigher than the modest one of Esquire, were incorpo- \nrated under the name and style of \" the Council es- \ntablished at Plymouth, in the county of Devon, for the \nplanting, riding, ordering and governing of New-Eng- \nland, in America.\" The grant to them covered all \nthe territory, from sea to sea, between the 40th and \n48th degrees of latitude, — in other words, the whole \nvast belt between a line on the south carried through \nfrom Philadelphia to the Pacific, and a parallel line \nfrom Chaleur Bay at the north and east, across Can- \nada and Lake Superior, and thence, a single degree \nonly south of the present northw^estern boundary of \nthe United States, from the Lake of the Woods to \nPuget's Sound. It practically included the whole of \nwhat are now known as the Northern States of the \nUnion, as well as the best portion of Canada and the \nPacific States. At the time, nothing of course was \nknown of the interior, for Drake's adventurous voy- \nage, during which he wintered in San Francisco Bay \nand followed the coast as far up as the 48th parallel \nin search of a northwestern passage, had occurred but \n1 Hazard, i. 103-18. \n\n\n1620. \" A MOXOPOL Y OF WIND AND SUN.' 123 \n\nforty-two years before. This iiDknown domain was \nnow, on the third day of November in the year of \ngrace 1620, turned over by James Stuart — so far as \nit could be turned over — to the governor of the \narsenal at Plymouth, as a private domain, to be par- \ncelled out between himself and some thirty-nine other \npersons whom he chose to associate with him. The \ntruly singular feature in the whole, episode is that \nthis bit of parchment, so ignorantly and so carelessly \nsigned, proved thereafter to be the Great Charter of \nNew England ; and to this day that parchment is the \nfoundation of territorial bounds and real-estate hold- \nings in three states of the Union and in several of the \nBritish provinces. \n\nAs regards exclusive privileges, the deficiencies of \nthe old charter were effectually cured, and the patent- \nees at least had no grounds now for complaint. The \nnew charter carried with it complete jurisdiction, civil, \nmartial and maritime, criminal and ecclesiastical, \n\" not only within the precincts of the said Collony, \nbut also upon the Seas in going and coming to and \nfrom the said Collony.\" It further gave the patent- \nees full power and authority to encounter, resist and \nrepel, take and surprise \" by Force of Arms, as well \nby Sea as by Land,\" all persons with \"their Ships, \nGoods and other Furniture, trafficking in any Har- \nbour, Creeke, or Place, within the limits \" granted. \nThe vessels of those concerned in this trafficking, to- \ngether with their cargoes and apparel, were liable to \nforfeiture, half to the crown and half to the company. \nIt does not need to be pointed out that, if enforced, \nthis s:rant excluded the fishermen on the Grand Banks \nfrom the necessary use of the shore. Not only could \nthey no longer trade along the coast for furs, but, \n\n\n124 SIR FERDINANDO GORGES. Nov. \n\nunlass specially licensed, tliey could not use its harbors \nand inlets for such necessary purposes of their calling \nas stations for refreshment, the curing of their fish, \nor the hauling or mending of their nets. Everything \nthereafter was to be done under a permit, and that \npermit was to be paid for. Never was there, as Lord \nCoke vigorously put it, a more audacious attempt at \n\" a monopoly of the wind and sun.\" \n\nSuch exclusive privileges as these could not even in \nthose times be expected to pass unchallenged, and ex- \nception to them was in the first place taken by the old \nSouth Virginia Compaffy9«v Those interested in that \ncompan}^ found themselves deprived of the right to \nfish in the North Atlantic. They at once lodged \ntheir complaint before the King in Council ; and a \nlong contest ensued, during which the significance \nof Gorges' selection of patentees became apparent. \nBuckingham was King James' \" Steenie,\" — the un- \nscrupulous, all-powerful favorite ; Lenox, Clarendon \ntells us, was \" used to discourse with his Majesty in \nhis bed-chamber rather than at the council-board ; \" \nPembroke \" was the most universally loved and es- \nteemed of any man of that age ; \" Hamilton \" more \nout-faced the law, in bold projects and pressures upon \nthe people, than any other man durst have presumed \nto do ; \" Arundel \" was never suspected to love any- \nbody, nor to have the least propensity to justice, char- \nity or compassion,\" but, next to the officers of state, \nin his own right and quality he preceded the rest of \nthe Council ; Salisbury, '' born and bred in court,\" \nand descended from \" a father and grandfather, wise \nmen and great ministers, whose wisdom and virtues \ndied with them, and their children inherited only their \ntitles. ... No man so great a tyrant in his country, \n\n\n1620. ^A\" OMINOUS ASSURANCE. 125 \n\nor was less swayed by any motives of justice or honor.\" \nThese and men like these made up the list of patent- \nees of the Council for New England ; and they were \nnot only potent at court, but themselv^es members of \nthe Privy Council. The consciences of those about \nKing James were far from nice. In sitting on the \ncomplaint of the Virginia Company, Buckingham, \nSalisbury and the rest were sitting in their own case ; \nand before them Gorges had no difficulty in holding \nhis ground. His grant was triumphantly sustained. \nBut the other party did not propose to remain quiet \nunder this defeat ; and, in the hour of his success, \nGorges received an ominous assurance that, his vic- \ntory before the Lords of the Privy Council notwith- \nstanding, he should hear more of the matter in the \nnext parliament. \n\nOn the day when the charter of the Plymouth Com- \npany bore date, the voyage of the Mayflower was \nnearly two months old, and exactly eight days later \nher anchor was dropped in Provincetown harbor. \nThe soil on which the weary Pilgrims were about to \nland had thus, since their departure from Southamp- \nton, become the private property of a knot of hangers- \non about Whitehall. Still, there was no danger that \na resting-place would be denied them. On the con- \ntrary, their opportune arrival was a great piece of \ngood luck for Gorges, and so regarded by him. For \nyears he had in vain been trying to induce settlers to \ngo to the New England coast, and now at last these \npeople had gone there of their own accord. A pros- \npect therefore unexpectedly opened itself to those in- \nterested in the new company of having some occu- \npants for their domain other than wild animals and \nwild men. Accordingly, a few months later, a patent \nwas very readily issued to the Plymouth partners. \n\n\n126 SIR FERDINANDO GORGES. 1621. \n\nBut it was not until the next summer that Gorges \nknew of the settlement at Plymouth. In the interim \nhis hands were full of work at home ; for at last, after \nnearly twenty years of dragging, political events in \nEngland began to move more rapidly. On the 30th \nof January, 1621, that new parliament met, with the \nadvent of which the patentees of the Council for New \nEngland had been threatened at the close of the \ncontest before the Privy Council. It was the third \nparliament of King James, the second having been \ndissolved nearly seven years before, and the leaders \nof his Majesty's opposition in it lodged temporarily \nin the Tower. It was to j^rove, also, a very famous \nparliament in history ; for not only did it impeach \nBacon, but it was instant in the presentation of griev- \nances, and with it began that movement which twenty- \neight years later, as old Auchinleck is said to have \nexpressed it to Dr. Johnson, \"gart kings ken that \nthey had a lith in their neck.\" \n\nThe Puritan movement, now more than half a cen- \ntury old, had, since the death of Essex, acquired a \ngreatly increased momentum, and in this parliament \nits representatives crowded the benches of the Com- \nmons. The one thing they probably knew of the \nrepresentative man of the Council for New England \nwas Essex's despairing cry, — \" My Lords, look upon \nSir Ferdinando, and see if he looks like himself.\" \nBut this was not for Gorges all, nor even the worst. \nWhile the parliament of 1621 might well be known as \nthe Grievances Parliament, it might even better be \nknown as Sir Edmund Coke's Parliament. The attor- \nney-general, who at the trial of twenty years before \nhad so ferociously pressed law and evidence against \nEssex, had since then risen to be Chief Justice of the \n\n\n1621. COKE'S PARLIAMENT. 127 \n\nKing's Bench ; and, five years before the parliament \nmet, he had been ignominiously dismissed from that \nhigh position by royal command. The natural vindic- \ntiveness of Coke's temper had been thoroughly roused \nby undeserved disgrace. Indeed, he now mainly lived \nto revenge it. He had been returned to the new par- \nliament; and the high office he had formerly held, \nas well as his known hostility to the court, pointed \nhim out as a leader of the opposition. Hitherto he \nhad professed high-church principles ; he now placed \nhimself at the head of the Puritans. Twenty years \nbefore, as attorney-general of the crown, he had \nbrowbeaten Essex when struggling for his life. Al- \nways good at browbeating, he was now to have an \nopportunity to obliterate from the minds of his fol- \nlowers the recollection of what he had then done in \nthat line, as attorney-general, by showing them what \nhe could still do in it as Speaker of the Commons. \nBut, instead of Essex, that man was to stand before \nhim whom the Puritans looked upon as having been to \nEssex what Judas was to Christ. \n\nParliament met on the 30th of January. Those \ninterested in the South Virginia Company were as \ngood as their word ; and Gorges found himself at an \nearly day summoned to the bar of the Commons, sit- \nting as a committee of the whole on grievances. Sir \nEdmund Coke scowled from the Speaker's chair. A \nlong hearing ensued, — first before the whole House, \nand then before a special committee, — in which, both \nalone and with the aid of counsel, Gorges did the best \nhe could in defence of his charter. While his lawyers \nconfined themselves to the legal points involved, he \nvigorously pressed general considerations on the com- \nmittee. He claimed the territory granted, by right of \n\n\n128 SIR FERDINANDO GORGES. 1621. \n\ndiscovery and exploration, — by occupancy even. He \nurged the systematic enlargement of England's do- \nmain, together with the proj^agation of the gospel, — \nboth, he claimed, \" matters of the highest consequence, \nand far exceeding a simple and disorderly course of \nfishing,\" the interruption of which was now com- \nplained of. Then he proceeded to show, — \n\n\" That the mischief e already sustained by those disorderly \nPersons, are inhumane and intoUerable ; for, first, in their \nmanners and behaviour they are worse than the very Sav- \nages, impudently and openly lying with their Women, teach- \ning their Men to drinke drunke, to sweare and blaspheme \nthe name of GOD, and in their drunken humour to fall to- \ngether by the eares, thereby giving them occasion to seek \nrevenge ; besides, they couzen and abuse the Savages in \ntrading and trafficking, selling them Salt covered with But- \nter instead of so much Butter, and the Hke couzenages and \ndeceits, both to bring the Planters and all our Nation into \ncontempt and disgrace, thereby to give the easier passage \nto those People that dealt more righteously with them ; that \nthey sell unto the Savages Musquets, Fowling-PIeces, Pow- \nder, Shot, Swords, Arrow-Heads, and other Armes, where- \nwith the Savages slew many of those Fisher-Men, and are \ngrown so able and so apt, as they become most dangerous \nto the Planters.\" ^ \n\nThat Gorges pleaded his cause with knowledge is \nwholly probable ; and he says himself that in his \ndelivery he \" did express more passion than ordinary.\" \nIt was wholly in vain. Apart from all question of \nmonopoly, it may well be doubted whether any cause \nidentified with and championed by Sir Ferdinando \nGorges would have stood a chance with that parlia- \nment. As it was, when at last Coke reported a list \n\n^ Brief e Narration, B. I. ch. xx. \n\n\n1621. SIR FERDINANDO LOOKED UPON. 129 \n\nof public grievances on behalf of the Commons, as \nGorges expressed it, *' that of the patent of New-Eng- \nland was the first.\" \n\nFortunately for the patentees, James soon came to \nan open issue with the Commons. The King wanted \nsubsidies ; they, reforms. Parliament paid small heed \nto words from the throne when it met ; for though, to \nuse James' own expression, he often piped to them, \nthe members would not dance. The King doubtless \nwould willingly enough have sacrificed Gorges and \nhis patent, a mere pawn in the game, if by so doing \nhe could have gained a point ; and, indeed, it would \ninevitably have come to this, had not the pretensions \nof Coke, backed by the Commons, become so high. \nBut at last, wearying, as he himself put it, with hav- \ning his \" words sent back as wind spit into my own \nface,\" the King in June caused parliament to ad- \njourn ; and, when it again met in November, it was \nonly to be dissolved in January. Nothing had been \ndone in the matter of the Council for New England, \nand Gorges breathed more freely. Nevertheless, as \nbe subsequently found and bitterly confessed, the \npublic declaration which had been made of the Com- \nmons' \" dislike of the cause shook off all my adven- \nturers for plantation, and made many of the patentees \nto quit their interest, so that in all likelihood I must \nfall under the weight of so heavy a burden.\" He did \nfall. Though he struggled on for a time, not realiz- \ning it. Gorges' project had received a death-blow. \nThe Puritan Parliament had looked on Sir Ferdi- \nnando, and Essex was avenged. \n\n\nCHAPTER Yin, \n\n\"MONS PARTURIENS.\" \n\nParliament had been dissolved in January, and \nduring the same month Weston sent out his advanced \nparty in the Sparrow. In the course of the next \nmonth the Fortune, having both Cushman and the \nsailor William Trevore on board, reached London. \nWeston was then busy preparing his larger expedition, \nwhich sailed two months later, and it must have been \nduring the six weeks which followed that he took out \nhis patent.^ \n\n1 Mass. Hist. Soc. Lowell Inst. Lectures (1869), 147, 154 As nothing \nis known of Weston's patent except that it was taken out {supra, 58), \nthere is no means of fixing upon the territory covered by it. There \ncan be no doubt that Trevore was lavish of his information, and that \nthe story of what he saw lost nothing- in the telling. He talked freely \nto Weston (Bradford, 122), and described Boston Bay to Thomson \n(N. E. Hist, and Geneal. Reg. ix. 248), and undoubtedly to Thomson's \nsuperior in office, Gorges. Yet, though Weston's party established \nitself at Wessagusset, it does not follow that his patent covered that \nregion, or that it was based on information as to localities derived \nfrom Trevore. On the contrary, the site of his plantation was fixed, as \nPratt asserts (iv. Mass. Hist. Coll. iv. 478 ; supra, 52), by the small \nadvance party which had sailed the month preceding Trevore's return \nto London. That this party should by chance have selected that very \nsite on the whole coast which Weston's patent, based on Trevore's \ntalk, subsequently covered, is to the last degree improbable. It \nwould seem far more likely that Weston, from the reports of Smith \nand the captains of his own fishing vessels, already had some know- \nledge of Boston Bay ; that the advance party was directed to go \nthere ; and that when a little later he applied for a patent, in the \nlight of such local information as he could obtain from Trevore, he \n\n\n1622. THE COUNCIL FOR NEW ENGLAND. 131 \n\nGorges at this time was no less busy than Weston. \nHis hopes revived with the dissolution of the parlia- \nment, and he was actively at work organizing. The \nrecord of the business meetings of the Council for \nNew England begins in May, 1622, the month suc- \nceeding that in which Weston's larger expedition set \nsail, and, significantly enough, the very first entry re- \nlates to a complaint against Weston, and a petition to \nthe Privy Council for the forfeiture of his ship to the \ncompany's use. Nothing apparently came of either \ncomplaint or petition. Though the meetings of the \nCouncil were now frequent, the attendance was not \nlarge, more than six or seven rarely being present. \nGorges and Dr. Barnaby Gooch, the treasurer, were \nnearly always there ; but the titled patentees scarce \never showed themselves, though the Duke of Lenox \nand the Earls of Arundel, Pembroke and Warwick did \nso now and then. The company apparently never had \nany office or regular place of meeting, but the patent- \nees were called together at Whitehall, or at its treas- \nurer's rooms, or elsewhere as might prove convenient. \nIt is doubtful whether it ever had even a chest for its \nbooks, though at its third meeting on July 12, 1622, \nan order was passed for procuring one. Its treasury \nwould rarely seem to have been otherwise than empty. \n\nComplaints as to the disorderly doings of the fish- \narranged to have it cover the region on the south side of the bay. If \nthis was the case, it may fairly be surmised that the Robert Gorges \npatent, issued a few months later, covered adjoining territory. In \nthat case the peninsula of Boston, and the townships of Dorchester \nand Quincy as well as Weymouth, may liave been included in the \nWeston patent. Cushman surmised (Bradford, 122) that it covered \na region south of Cape Cod. He evidently knew nothing about it ; \nand not only the course of Weston's advanced party, but his whole \nplan of action, makes this improbable. Fortunately the question is \none of little interest, and apparently of no historical significance. \n\n\n132 ^'MONS PARTURIENSr . 1622. \n\nermen and traders on the North Athintic coast, upon \nwhich Gorges in his argument before the committee \nlaid so much stress, continued to come in, and it was \nnecessary to do something in relation to them. Prob- \nably also the active members of the Council thought \nthe present a favorable time to begin to raise a reve- \nnue from their exclusive privileges. The work of po- \nlicing the coast of half a continent was expensive ; and \nif it had to be done, it seemed but right that those \nwho frequented the coast should pay for it. Accord- \ningly, at a meeting of the Council on the 5th of July, \nfour members being present, steps were taken to pro- \ncure the issuing of a royal proclamation against all \nunlicensed trading, and other infringements of the \nrights of the patentees. On the 6th of the following \nNovember the desired proclamation was published. It \nwas a document sweeping in its terms. It forbade all \npersons without the license of the Council, which was \nmerely another name for Sir Ferdinando Gorges' \npermit, from either trading with the natives or visit- \nin er the coast of North America between Delaware \nBay and the Gulf of St. Lawrence. The penalty was \nforfeiture of vessel and cargo. In anticipation of this \nOrder in Council, the company had, at its meeting on \nthe 28th of October, considered what would be a fair \ncharge for a license, and \" it was thought fitt to de- \nmand from [the fishermen] five fishes out of every \nhundred.\" Two weeks later at another meeting, the \nproclamation having in the mean time appeared, an \norder w^as passed providing that it, and the regulations \nof the Council for New England in pursuance thereof, \nshould be posted \" uppon the mayne Mast of every \nShipp to bee obedient hereunto.\" ^ \n\n1 The Proclamation of November 6, 1622, is in Hazard, i. 151. The \n\n\n1622. \n\n\nCAPTAIN ROBERT GORGES. 133 \n\n\nThe plan for the better enforcement of these regu- \nlations which naturally suggested itself was to send \nout some person clothed with authority to represent \nthe Council on the spot, and Gorges doubtless intended \nat the proper time to fill this position himself; but \nthat time had not yet come. He was the mainstay of \nthe enterprise, and his presence in England now was \nindispensable to it ; but he had two sons, and it nat- \nurally occurred to him that here was an excellent \nopening for one of them. Of these two son§, the sec- \nond, Robert by name, had adopted his father's calling. \nYoung and anxious to see service, Robert Gorges, it \nwould seem, did not share in Sir Ferdinando's disgust \nat seeing the \" free spirits \" of the time willing \" ser- \nvilely to be hired as slaughterers in the quarrels of \nstrangers,\" and accordingly he had sought experience \nand pay in the Venetian service. He now came back \nto England, probably recalled by his father, and \n\nrecords of the Council for New England are in the Proceedings of the \nAmerican Antiquarian Society for April, 1867, and October, 1875. \nSmith, in his True Travels, says (p. 47) that the charge for licenses \nto fish were fixed by the Council \" for every thirty tons of shipping to \npay them five pounds ; besides, upon great penalties, neither to trade \nwith natives, cut down wood for their stages, without giving satisfac- \ntion . . . ; with many such other pretences for to make this country \nplant itself, by its own wealth.\" He implies also that this policy was \nsufficiently enforced to cripple trade. There is nothing in the records \nof the Council showing that any such regular tariff as five pounds for \neach thirty tons was ever established ; it is not, however, at all im- \nprobable that this was about the rate ordinarily attempted to be \ncharged. Some Barnstable merchants had sent out three vessels, ag- \ngregating two hundred and twenty-five tons, in ignorance of the proc- \nlamation. They paid forty pounds in composition for licenses. {Rec- \nords, Feb. 4, 1622.) A license was granted to another Barnstable \nowner, for one vessel, for which he paid £6 13s. 4d. (lb. May 5, \n1623.) These sums, however, would seem to have been exacted only \nwhile the just issued proclamation was fresh in men's minds. It was \nsoon disregarded. \n\n\n134 '^MONS PARTURIENSr 1G22. \n\nturned his thoughts towards America. The prospect \nwas certainly alluring. He was young, adventurous \nand unoccupied. He was offered a position of conse- \nquence and authority. The performance of his duties \nwould carry him to a world across the sea, — a world \nfull of adventure and novelty. His father knew more \nof it than any other Englishman except Captain John \nSmith; and to his father it was a region of surpassing \nnatural attraction, though in winter perhaps a little \n\" over cold.\" Smith, who had been there, was to the \nfull as enthusiastic as Sir Ferdinando, who knew of \nit only by report. Six years before, Smith had pub- \nlished his \"Description of New England,\" and now, \nas young Robert Gorges turned its pages over, he \ncame across such passages as these : — \n\n\" And surely by reason of those sandy clits, and clits of \nrocks, both which we saw so planted with gardens and corn- \nfields, and so well inhabited with a goodly, strong and well- \nproportioned people, besides the greatness of the timber \ngrowing on them, the gi'eatness of the fish, and the mod- \nerate temper of the air, who can but approve this a most \nexcellent place, both for health and fertility ? And of all \nthe four parts of the world that I have yet seen, not in- \nhabited, could I have but means to transport a colony, I \nwould rather live here than anywhere. And if it did not \nmaintain itself, were we but once indifferently well fitted, \nlet us starve. . . . \n\n\" Here nature and liberty affords us that freely, which in \nEngland we want, or it costeth us dearly. What pleasure \ncan be more than being tired with any occasion ashore, in \nplanting vines, fruits, or herbs, in contriving their own \ngrounds to the pleasure of their own minds, ... to recre- \nate themselves before their own doors in their own boats \nupon the sea, where man, woman and child, with a small hook \nand line, by angling, may take divers sorts of excellent fish \n\n\n1622. \"SWEET AIR\" AND ''SILENT streams:' 135 \n\nat their pleasures ? . . . And what sport doth yield a more \npleasing content, and less hurt and charge, than angling \nwith a hook, and crossing the sweet air from isle to isle, \nover the silent streams of a calm sea ? . . . \n\n\" For gentlemen, what exercise should more delight them \nthan ranging daily these unknown parts, using fowling and \nfishing for hunting and hawking? . . . For hunting, also, \n— the woods, lakes and rivers afford not only chase suffi- \ncient for any that delights in that kind of toil or pleasure? \nbut such beasts to hunt, that besides the delicacies of their \nbodies for food, their skins are so rich as they will recom- \npense thy daily labor with a captain's pay.\" ^ \n\nTo a country thus described by him who had most \nexperience of it, young Captain Robert Gorges was \nimportuned to go in chief command, and the owner of \na principality. It would not have been in human \nnature to reject the offer. \n\nIt was no part of the plan of either the elder or the \nyounger Gorges, that the latter should go out to his \nnew government unattended. On the contrary he was \nto o'o in some state, as befitted the Lieutenant of the \nCouncil for New England. He was also to take a \nbody of settlers with liim, who were to serve as the \npioneers of that larger body with which Sir Ferdinando \nhoped himself to follow in the succeeding year. But \nto get ready and equip the pioneer party required \nboth time and money; and, while money could only \nwith difficulty be raised, the disorders on the coast \ncalled for immediate action. A temporary arrange- \nment was accordingly made, and at a meeting of the \nCouncil on November 8, 1622, a commission was \ngranted to Captain Francis West to go to New Eng- \nland as \" Admirall for that Coast during this Voyage.\" \n1 GeneraU Historie, 209, 219. \n\n\n136 \"MONS PARTURIENS.\" Dec. \n\nCaptain Thomas Squibb, or Squeb, as the name is \nspelled in the more familiar records, was appointed \nhis assistant. West's commission bore date the last \nday of November. \n\nOf this voyage of Captain Francis West little is \nknown, except that he made his appearance at Plym- \nouth towards the latter part of June of the next year ; \nbut where he had been or what he had been doing in \nthe intermediate time does not appear. That \"the \nAdmirall for that Coast \" had but indifferent suc- \ncess in his efforts to restrain interlopers, and enforce \nthe regulations of the Council would appear from \nBradford's remark that \" he [the Admirall] could \ndoe no good of them, for they were to stronge for \nhim, and he found the fisher men to be stuberne fel- \nlows.\" \n\nExactly a month after the execution of West's com- \nmission a i^atent for land was issued to Robert Gorges.^ \nThe territory covered by it lay on the northeast side \nof Boston Bay, having a sea-front of ten straight \nmiles, and included all islands within a league of the \nshore. It extended thirty miles into the interior. \nThis grant, subsequently pronounced void by the law- \nyers as being \" loose and uncertain,\" ^ covered appar- \nently the whole territory between Nahant and the \nmouth of the Charles, including Lynn and the most \npopulous portions of what is now Middlesex County \nas far west as Concord and Sudbury. There can be \nlittle doubt it was located on information received \nfrom Trevore, and was intended to include the pleasant \nregion through which he had rambled in company \nwith Standish a little more than a year previous.^ \n\n1 m. Mass. Hist. Coll. vi. 75. ^ Hutchinson, i. 6. \n\n^ Knowing how indefatigable Sir Ferdinando Gorges was in collect- \n\n\n1622. NO FUNDS. 137 \n\nHis destination and private domain being thus fixed, \nRobert Gorges set to work getting together those who \nwere to compose his company. Such difficulties as he \nhad to encounter were due wholly to the want of \nmeans, but these were very considerable. Sir Ferdi- \nnando's private resources, never great, had already \nbeen taxed to the uttermost. The Council for New \nEngland was rich in titles and influential at court ; \nbut, when it came to levying assessments, the dukes \nand marquesses and earls, whose names mounded so \nwell in the patent, could not be induced to respond to \nthe amount of a poor hundred pounds apiece. In fact \nthey were not there themselves to supply money. \nThey were there to make sure of the favor of the \nPrivy Council, and to act as stool-pigeons ; and in the \nlatter capacity they served their turn as poorly as in \nthe former they served it well. The city had been \ntried, but to no purpose. The London men of capital \nwere Puritans, and as such had neither fondness for \nSir Ferdinando Gorges nor confidence in his projects. \nA scheme for raising X100,000 in that quarter had \nbeen discussed at the first meeting of the company, \nbut at its second meeting it was \" respited in regard \nof the Difficulty of findeing security.\" A ship for \nthe company's use was building at Whiteby, in York- \nshire. It was probably the vessel in which subse- \nquently Eobert Gorges went out; but the greatest dif- \nficulty was naw found in raising the funds necessary \nto finish and equip her, and she lay for several months \n\ning information in reg-ard to New England from every conceivable \nsource, it is unreasonable to suppose that he had not questioned \nTrevore closely in regard to the whole region explored in the Septem- \nber excursion of 1621 {supra, 16-18), and was not fully informed as to \nits advantages, and the mistake the Plymouth people had made in \nnot settling there. \n\n\n138 ''MONS PARTURIENS.\" 1623. \n\nidle at Whiteby, receiving \" great prejudice \" and at \n\" heavy charge.\" At last, in June 1623, it was found \nnecessary to mortgage her to such of the patentees as \nwere willing to advance the money needed to complete \nher equipment. \n\nNotwithstanding these discouragements, Robert \nGorges, all through the winter and spring of 1623, \nwent on actively with his preparations. At last things \nseemed to be in a promising state of forwardness, and \nSir Ferdinando then seems to have resolved on a great \neffort, — a final coup de theatre^ as it were.^ The \nground on which the majority of the patentees excused \nthemselves from paying in the XllO, which had been \nfixed as the contribution of each, was that they had \nnothing to show for their money. Something more \ntangible than the mere receipt of a treasurer was \nasked for. The number of adventurers, moreover, was \nnot full. The charter required forty, and there were \nbut a few over a score. Under these circumstances, \nas the season of 1623 suitable for the despatch of an \nexpedition slipped away, a reorganization was deter- \nmined upon. It was resolved to give new life to the \nenterprise, — life sufficient at least to send the Lieu- \ntenant of the Council out to his government w^th a \ncertain prestige. Accordingly, on Sunday the 29th \nof June, a meeting of the Council was called at \nGreenwich. The object of the meeting was to allot \nthe territory, covered by the patent, . in severalty \namong the patentees. Each was to have his domain \nmarked out upon the map so that he could see what \nit was, with his own name written against it. Gorges \nevidently spared no effort to make the occasion im- \npressive, and King James himself was induced to be \n\n1 Proc. Am. Ant. Soc Oct. 1875, 90. \n\n\n1623. NEW ENGLAND ALLOTTED. 139 \n\npresent. Of the patentees eleven attended, and the \narrangement was that twenty lots of two shares each \nwere to be drawn, — those who drew these double \nshares parting with one of them to some other person, \nso that the full number of forty might be secured. \nOf the eleven members present ten drew for them- \nselves, and ten othgr lots were drawn for absent \nmembers. The King drew for Buckingham. Copies \nof the map jon which this drawing was recorded are \nstill extant. Smith says ^ it was one of his maps, — \nthe same which, in 1616, he had submitted to Prince \nCharles, — but this statement, like many others made \nby the famous \" President of Virginia and Admiral \nof New England,\" has failed to bear examination. \nThe map in reality made use of on this historic oc- \ncasion was one essentially different from Smith's, pre- \npared by Sir William Alexander and first published \nin the following year, 1624.^ Upon this map, or \n\" plot,\" were now written down, just within the coast- \nline from the St. Croix to Buzzard's Bay, the names of \nthe new proprietors, — twenty in number. The Earl \nof Arundel drew the easternmost allotment, and next \nto him came Sir Ferdinando. Mt. Desert fell to Sir \nRobert Mansell, and Casco Bay to the Earl of Hol- \nderness. Buckingham drew the region about Ports- \nmouth ; and the Earl of Warwick, Cape Ann. The \nsite of Boston and all its neighboring cities and towns \nwas assigned to Lord Gorges, while the country bor-= \ndering on Buzzard's Bay went to Dr. Gooch. \n\nAnd in this way, on a Sunday afternoon in June of \n\n^ True Travels, ch. xxiii. 47 ; Advertisements, ch. x. 22. \n\n^ Deane, Froc. Am. Ant. Soc. Oct. 1875 ; Sir William Alexander \n(Prince Soc. Pub.), 123, 196, 216 ; Winsor, Nar. and Crit. Hist, of Am. \niii. 305, 341. \n\n\n140 '^MONS parturient:' June. \n\nthe year 1623, at Greenwich near London, was New \nEngland parcelled out among twenty persons ; of \nwhom, as Captain John Smith remarked, \" never one \nof them had been there,\" while half of them did not \ndeem the thing of sufficient importance to be present \nat the parcelling. \n\n\nCHAPTER IX. \n\nTHE \"RIDICULUS MUS.\" \n\nThe meeting of the Council for New England at \nGreenwich, in the presence of King James himself, \nwas the send-off, so to speak, of Robert Gorges and \nhis company ; for a month later, or in the early days \nof August, 1623, they set sail and reached their des- \ntination in Boston Bay about the middle of Septem- \nber. Captain Gorges was commissioned by the Coun- \ncil \" as their Lieutenant, to regulate the state of their \naffairs,\" ^ but for the rest the official style of his new \nattempt showed that Sir Ferdinand o had not been \nunmindful of the experience of the past. As respects \nthe number of accompanying officials, their titles and \ndignity, the fiasco of 1607 at Fort St. George was not \nreenacted. For his assistance in his n(iw government \nRobert Gorges was simply provided with a council, \nconsisting of Captain Francis West (the admiral of \nthe company then upon the coast), Christopher West \n(also then engaged in a voyage to New England, an \naccount of which he subsequently wrote), and the \nGovernor of Plymouth, ex officio. He was further \nauthorized to add others to these in his discretion. \n\nSo far as jurisdiction was concerned, the powers, \ncivil and criminal, entrusted to young Gorges were of \n\n1 Bradford (p. 149) speaks of him as having \" a commission from \nthe Counsell of New England, to be generall Governor of the cun- \ntrie.\" \n\n\n142 THE ''RIDICULUS MUS.\" July, \n\nthe amplest description, for lie was authorized to ar- \nrest, imprison and punish, even capitally. Nor was \nthis all ; he was clothed with ecclesiastical as well as \ncivil authority. Sir Ferdinando was a professor of \nhigh-church principles, and the Council for New Eng- \nland had no sympathy with Puritans. In all its plans \na special prominence had been given to the propaga- \ntion of the gospel, and the present was distinctly to be \na Church settlement in the Massachusetts Bay, as \ncontrasted with the Separatist settlement already ef- \nfected at Plymouth. Robert Gorges accordingly took \nwith him at least two ordained clergymen, one of \nwhom, William Morell, bore an ecclesiastical commis- \nsion conferring on him general powers of visitation \nand superinteudency over the churches of New Eng- \nland.^ As there was but one church — that at Plym- \nouth — then in New England, the significance of this \ncommission was apparent. Not impossibly, though \nit is a mere surmise unsustained by evidence, the Rev. \nWilliam Blackstone, the ordained companion of Mo- \nrell, may originally have been designed to take charge, \nunder the power of superinteudency just referred to, \nof the Plymouth pulpit, while Morell himself was to \nminister at the Bay. \n\nThe mere suggestion of such a commission as Mo- \nrell was armed with, could not but have revived in the \nminds of any and all of Robinson's flock terrifying \nmemories of Scrooby and of Archbishop Bancroft, \nNot without cause might they, in their fear, have \nasked themselves if the earth did indeed contain no \nwilderness so remote that an Established Church could \nnot follow them into it to persecute. But fortunately \nforce, or at least a semblance of force, is essential to \nall active persecution ; and, as respected force, the \n1 Bradford, 154. \n\n\n1623. CHURCH AND STATE. 143 \n\nrepresentative of the Church was in this case but in- \ndifferently supplied. Moreover, notwithstanding the \napprehension that a knowledge of their presence and \nauthority would have excited, neither Morell nor Black- \nstone seem to have been men of a persecuting turn of \nmind, though this could not have become apparent \nuntil later ; nor even though they might have been \nliberally inclined, did it necessarily follow that their \ncivil superior. Sir Ferdinando Gorges, was so like- \nwise : and Sir Ferdinando under the new order of \nthings always loomed up as the possible governor-gen- \neral in a near future. \n\nWhen it left England, therefore, in the midsum- \nmer of 1623, the Robert Gorges company represented \nsomething more than a possible realization at last of \nSir Ferdinando's life dream, — something more even \nthan the dignity and authority of the Council for New \nEngland. Patronized by King James and commis- \nsioned by his Primate, it also represented, however \nfeebly, the seventeenth century church and state of \nEngland. Insignificant as respects numbers in it- \nself, it went out in the full belief that it was a mere \nforerunner of a much more considerable movement; \nfor the elder Gorges proposed himself to follow the \nnext year, bringing with him '' so great a number well \nfitted for such purpose \" as would \" quickly make this \nto exceed all other Plantations.\" ^ Robert Gorges' \nown following, moreover, though small, seems to have \nbeen composed of good material, fairly well selected \nfor the work in hand. There were families in it as \nwell as single men, — mechanicts, farmers and traders, \nas well as gentlemen and divines.^ \n\n^ Sir William Alexander (Prince Society Publications), 196. \n\n2 It hardly admits of question that a record of this expedition, and \n\n\n144 THE \"RIDICULUS MUSr Sep. \n\nBefore the party reached their destination the days \nwere becoming short and the nights chill ; for, the \nmonth of September being well advanced, the season \nof growth was wholly over, while the forest glowed \nwith the mellow tints of autumn. It only remained \nto prepare as rapidly as possible for the winter now \nclose at hand. Instead, therefore, of at once seeking \na place of settlement within the limits of his own grant \non the northeastern- side of the bay, Gorges seems to \nhave been glad to take advantage of the immediate \nprotection offered by Weston's deserted buildings, \nwhich had now been vacant about six months. At \nWessagusset, accordingly, his party landed, and there \na portion of them permanently remained. The con- \ntinuous occupancy by Europeans of the region about \nBoston Bay dates from the latter days of September, \n1623. \n\nNotifying the authorities at Plymouth by letter of \nhis arrival, the new \" generall Governor of the cun- \ntrie \" almost immediately started for the coast of \nMaine. He did not even await the appearance of \nBradford at Wessagusset, in prompt response to his \nmissive. As the vessel Gorges came in was bound \n\nthe subsequent settlement effected by it, was kept by Blackstone. \nSuch a record. Winthrop alludes to in his History (i. *48 ; and, see also, \nProceedings of Mass. Hist. Soc. 1878, p. 197) ; and when Blackstone \ndied in 1G75, at Cumberland, R. I., there was included in the inven- \ntory of his library the item of '' 10 paper books.\" (ll. Mass. Hist. \nColl. X. 172.) These paper books were lost in the general destruction \nof Blackstone's movables, the year after his death, at the outbreak \nof King Philip's War. They probably contained the record referred \nto by Winthrop. In addition to Morell and Blackstone, Robert Gor- \nges was accompanied, according to his father, by certain \" of his kins- \nmen of his own name, with many other private friends\" (in. Mass. \nHist. Coll. vi. 70) ; while Phinehas Pratt remembered him as coming \n\" with six gentlemen attending him, and divers men to do his labor \nand other men with their families.\" (iv Mass. Hist. Coll. iv. 486.) \n\n\n1623. \"A SHROWD CHECKS 145 \n\nto Virginia, he probably wished, in view of the late- \nness of the season, to delay her in her voyage as little \nas possible ; and yet he wanted at once to hunt up \nWeston, against whom the anger of his father and of \nthe Council for New England was hot. The cause \nof complaint does not seem to have arisen out of the \ndisorders of the Wessagusset plantation so much as \nfrom some irregular proceedings of Weston's nearer \nhome. Exactly what these were cannot now be as- \ncertained; but England was then at war with the \nEmperor, and the usual strict regulation had been \nmade against the export of munitions. A favorite \nmethod of evading this regulation was to send the \nmunitions out of the country under pretence that they \nwere for use in the colonies, and then to change their \ndestination. Against this practice several of the or- \nders of the Council for New England were directed. \nIt would seem that Weston had obtained from the \nCouncil a license for the export of a considerable \namount of ordnance and munitions, under pretence \nthat he required them for arming his vessels and forti- \nfications in America. He had then disposed of them \non the Continent.! Naturally the English authorities \nwere very indignant over this proceeding, and Sir \nFerdinando Gorges had been sharply censured on ac- \ncount of it, — received \" a shrowd check,\" as his son \nexpressed it to Governor Bradford. ^ It would even \nappear that warrants were out against Weston, and \nthat, while his settlement was struggling to its end in \nNew England, the former treasurer of the Merchant \nAdventurers of London was himself in hidino- at home. \n\no \n\nEluding the officers, Weston disguised himself as a \n\n1 Records of Council, May 31 and Feb. 18, 1622. \n\n2 Bradford, 150. \n\n\n146 THE '^RIDICULUS MUS:* 1623. \n\nblacksmith, and came over in one of the early fishing \nvessels of 1623 to join his company. Keaching the \nstations in Maine some time in March, he learned of \nthe severe strait in which those at Wessagusset then \nwere, and, indeed, he very probably may hav.e there \nmet Saunders, who must have got to the stations \ndirect from Wessagusset, if he got to them at all, \nabout the same time as Weston. If such was the case, \nthe doleful winter's tale of his plantation must then \nhave become known to him, though the Swan, with \nthe main body of his company, had not yet arrived at \nMonhegan. Evidently hoping to reach Wessagusset \nin time to prevent further disaster, Weston set out in \na shallop accompanied by one or two men, — very pos- \nsibly taking Saunders back in the same boat in which \nhe had come. But Weston was now not so fortunate \nas Pratt and his companions had been the previous \nyear ; for, while feeling his way along the coast, the \nadventurer was overtaken by a gale and cast away \nnear the mouth of the Merrimack. He succeeded in \nstruggling ashore only to fall into the hands of the \nsavages, who stripped him of everything he had, even \nto the clothes on his back. Making his escape from \nthem, Weston at last, though more than half naked, \nfound his way to Piscataqua, where he chanced upon \nDavid Thomson with his little party, who must have \njust landed from the Jonathan, and were then busy \ngetting themselves some shelter.^ Thomson had ap- \npeared before the Privy Council less than a year \nbefore, on behalf of the Council for New England, to \nurge a complaint against Weston, and consequently \nknew him well ; nevertheless, now taking pity on his \nformer opponent, Thomson supplied him with clothes \n\n^ Proceedings of Mass. Hist. Soc. May, 1876, pp. 362-^. \n\n\n1623. '' THIS UNSTABLE WORLD:' 147 \n\nand other necessaries sufficient to enable him at last \nto find his way to Plymouth. The sudden appear- \nance in such a plight of the man whom, only three \nyears before, they had looked upon as a patron, and \nwho in fact had settled their destinies, excited no little \nastonishment in the minds of the Pilgrims. As usual, \ntoo, they indulged in some moralizing on the \" Strang \nalteration ther was in him to such as had seen and \nknown him in his former florishing condition ; so un- \ncertaine are the mutable things of this unstable world ! \nAnd yet men set their harts upon them, though they \ndayly see the vanity thereof.\" \n\nHis present low estate evidently made Weston feel \nonly more keenly the different positions he and his \npresent hosts had once occupied towards each other ; \nbut, curbing his tongue, he now asked them to lend \nhim some beaver skins, the only merchantable com- \nmodity they had. He assured them that he had a ship \ncoming over ladened with supplies, and that when it \narrived they should be repaid. Great as were their own \nnecessities, the Governor and the assistants finally let \ntheir former patron have one hundred skins, though \nthey had to do it in an underhand way ; for they seem \nactually to have feared that the giving away, as it \nwere, at such a time as that, of the only thing they had \nof value might \" make a mutinie among the people, \nseeing ther was no other means to procure them foode \nwhich they so much wanted, and cloaths allso.\" Get- \nting his beaver skins, Weston returned to the fishing- \nstations, where, at last, he found the Swan. His \ncompany had already scattered, but, gathering a few \nof them together, and bartering his skins for sup- \nplies, he next seems to have embarked as a trader on \nthe coast. In this capacity he found his way into \n\n\n148 THE 'IRIDIC ULUS MUS.\" Oct. \n\nPlymouth harbor shortly after the arrival of Robert \nGorges at Wessagusset. \n\nBut the Lieutenant of the Council had meanwhile \nstarted for the coast of Maine in search of Weston \nhimself. Before he had gone far Gorges was over- \ntaken by a storm, and, realizing that he was on his \nway to unknown waters without a pilot, he put about \nand ran into Plymouth. He was still lying there \nwhen the man he was in search of also made his \nappearance. Organizing at once a species of council, \nthe new Governor of New England summoned the \nlate Treasurer of the Merchant Adventurers before it. \nThere were two grounds of complaint against the lat- \nter ; one related to the disorderly doings at his Wes- \nsagusset plantation, and the other to the illicit-arms \ntransaction in England. The first charge was easily \nmet, for Weston had not been at Wessagusset at the \ntime of the misdoings in question, and, indeed, had \nbeen the greatest sufferer by them ; but, when it came \nto the second charge, he had no satisfactory defence to \noifer. Nevertheless, through the intervention of Brad- \nford young Gorges seems to have been mollified, and \nthe whole proceeding would have amounted to nothing, \nhad not Weston, when he saw how satisfactorily things \nwere going, thought proper to indulge in various pro- \nvoking sarcasms. This led to an explosion on the \npart of Gorges, who seems to have been an indiscreet, \nhot-headed youth ; and he now angrily declared that \nhe would either curb Weston there, or, if he could \nnot, he would send him under arrest back to England. \nThe last alternative seems to have frightened Weston \nthoroughly, who took an early opportunity to sound \nBradford as to whether the proceedings against him \nreally meant anything, or whether he was correct in \n\n\n1623. SANCHO PANZA AT PLYMOUTH, 149 \n\nsupposing that they were all taking parts in a farce, \n— a harmless reproduction, in f act, at Plymouth, of \nthe famous scene in the island of Barataria, with Rob- \nert Gorges enacting the part of Sancho Panza.^ Nei- \nther Bradford nor his assistant Allerton were men \nmuch given to jesting on serious subjects ; and ac- \ncordingly, to his very considerable dismay, Weston \nwas assured that, if Gorges, as Lieutenant of the \nCouncil, decided to send him back a prisoner to \nEngland, they had no power to hinder the so doing. \nThey further very plainly told Weston that his unruly \ntongue was fast getting him into serious trouble. The \nprisoner's demeanor thereupon underwent a marked \nchange. From being defiant he became humble, and \nsupplicated Bradford's good offices in his own behalf. \nFor some reason which does not appear, — it may \nhave been a sense of gratitude for services formerly \nrendered, or it may have been an unwillingness to \nhave events take such a course as would lead to any \nexercise of authority at Plymouth by a representative \nof the Council for New England, or it may, and not \nimprobably was, from the conscientious desire to serve \nas peacemakers, — for some reason the Plymouth \nmagistrates seem in this case to have been anxious \nto prevent matters from going to extremes. Brad- \nford, therefore, again interceded. This time he had \nmore trouble, but at last he so far mollified Gorges \nthat Weston was discharged on his simple promise to \nappear whenever he might be sent for. \n\nAltogether Robert Gorges passed about two weeks \n\n^ It is not very probable that Weston had ever heard of Don Qui- \nxote. The second part of that work had, however, appeared in 1615, \neight yeai-s before the events here recorded, and Thomas Morton at \nleast was already familiar with it. See N. E. Canaan, 128, 142. \n\n\n150 THE <'RIDICULUS MUSy Nov. \n\nat Plymouth, and when he returned to Wessagusset \nit was by hmd, his ship being left at Plymouth to \nbe made ready to continue her voyage to Virginia. \nLater, the presence there of this and Weston's vessel \nnearly caused the destruction of the settlement ; for, as \nthe seamen of the two were making merry ashore on \nGuy Fawkes' day, the weather being quite cold, they \nsucceeded in setting the house they were in on fire. \nThe flames spread rapidly, and for a time the common \nstorehouse was in danger. This was saved, and the \ngreat Plymouth fire of November 5, 1623, was at last \ngot under control, after it had destroyed three or four \nbuildings, together with everything in them : but, had \nthe common storehouse gone, the settlement must have \nbeen abandoned ; for the winter was close at hand, \nand, under the circumstances, the disaster would have \nentailed famine. Even as it was, several families, \nlosing everything they possessed, were compelled to \ngo back to England in Gorges' vessel. Since then \nthere have been many great conflagrations in Massa- \nchusetts, and untold destruction of wealth thereby, — \nnotably one conflagration in Boston two hundred and \nforty-nine years later, almost to a day ; but not one \nof these compared, in the extent of proportional loss \nand alarm occasioned by it, with that Plymouth fire \nof 1623, which was due to the \" rude company \" which \nbelonged to those two ships of Gorges and Weston. \n\nShortly after the fire the Gorges vessel sailed for \nVirginia ; but the Swan was destined to pass a sec- \nond winter at Wessagusset, and, indeed, had at this \ntime been seized by order of Robert Gorges, and was \nin charge of one of his officers. While it may have \nbeen that, upon reflection, the Lieutenant of the Coun- \ncil was not wholly satisfied with the result of his \n\n\n1623. WINTER DREARINESS, 151 \n\n•arraignment of Weston, it is possible, also, that when \nhe returned to Wessagusset and found himself there \nburied in the solitude of an autumnal wilderness, the \npossession, even for a season, of Weston's vessel, oc- \ncurred to him as desirable. In any event, he hardly- \ngot back to his company before he issued a warrant \nfor the arrest of Weston and the seizure of the Swan, \nand sent one Captain Hanson, as he was called, to \nPlymouth with it. Bradford still did his best to \nshield Weston, taking exception to the form of the war- \nrant and refusing to allow its service. An intimation \nwas at the same time given to Weston that he had \nbetter be gone. But Weston was now apparently at \nthe end of his resources ; for he had a numerous and \nunruly crew on the Swan, whose wages were in ar- \nrears, his supplies were nearly exhausted, and the win- \nter was on him. He seems to have concluded there- \nfore that, upon the whole, for him to be arrested and \nhave his vessel seized was as good a solution of the \nsea of troubles in which he found himself submerged, \nas was likely to offer. So when, shortly after, a new \nwarrant came from Wessagusset, with written instruc- \ntions for its immediate service, no further objection \nwas made, and both vessel and prisoner were removed \nto Boston Bay. \n\nThis exercise of authority on the part of Gorges \nseems to have resulted exactly as Bradford antici- \npated. There were no provisions on board the Swan, \nand the crew were clamorous for their wages. Even \nif he did not pay them their wages, Gorges, retaining \nthe vessel, had to feed them. He seems to have made \nno attempt to send Weston to England. \n\nThus, as the winter wore itself away, its utter \ndreariness to Gorges and his personal companions can \n\n\n152 THE '^RIDICULUS MUS:' 1623-4 \n\neasily be imagined. They had come to enjoy the pleas- \nures of the wilderness. Locked up in a desert of ice \nand snow, — inhabiting a log hut on the edge of a salt \nmarsh, with a howling, unexplored forest behind and \nround about them, — well might they, with the mer- \ncury at zero, ask themselves where was that \" moder- \nate temper of the air,\" where '* those silent streams of \na calm sea,\" which Smith had pictured ? — Young men \naccustomed to the soft winter climate of Devon were \nexposed to the blasts of Greenland. Where, too, was \nthe \" fowling: and fishino: \" ? — The waters were covered \nwith ice, and the woods were impassable with snow. \nAnd so Robert Gorges got through the long winter as \nbest he could, probably cursing John Smith for a liar, \nand heartily wishing himself back in the Venetian \nservice, or even the dreary tedium of Plymouth. \nTowards spring he went to the eastward fishing sta- \ntions in the Swan, taking Weston along, apparently \nas his pilot. On his way the returning Lieutenant \nstopped at Thomson's Piscataqua plantation, and there \nmet Christopher Levett, who was associated with Gor- \nges as one of his Council, and had only arrived from \nEngland a few weeks before. From Levett, and from \nthe fishing vessels which were then reaching the sta- \ntions. Captain Gorges received letters from his father, \nand tidings of events as late as the beginning of the \nyear. The news was all bad. Nothing had come \nof Sir Ferdinando's efforts ; the patentees would not \nrespond to the calls for money; his resources were \nexhausted ; his friends had withdrawn themselves ; a \nnew parliament was impending; and, altogether, as \nthe elder Gorges afterwards wrote, \" these crosses did \ndraw upon us such a disheartened weakness as there \nonly remained [of the Council for New England] a \n\n\n1624. ROBERT GORGES RETURNS. 153 \n\ncarcass in a manner breathless.\" Under these cir- \ncumstances Sir Ferdinando advised his son to return \nhome \"till better occasion should offer itself unto \nhim.\" \n\nWhen he received these tidings it did not take \nRobert Gorges long to decide upon his course. Pos- \nsibly his health was already failing, for he is said to \nhave died not long after he got back to England ; but, \nwhether failing in health or not, he was thoroughly \ndisgusted with his experience in the ^vilderness, — and \nnot without reason. Besides the hardships incident \nto the climate, and the cruel disenchantment on that \nscore which he had undergone, the representative of \nthe Council for New England had found his official \nposition one of little consideration and no encourage- \nment. His single attempt to exercise any authority \nhad resulted only in the miserable wrangle with Wes- \nton; and, as for the interlopers he had come to re- \nstrain, whether fishermen or traders, it was plain that \nthey were \"to stronge\" for him, as they had been \nbefore for \" Admirall \" West, and so he was fain to \nleave such \" stuberne fellows \" severely alone. It was \nsmall matter of surprise, therefore, that, as Bradford \ncontemptuously expressed it, young Gorges did not \nfind \" the state of things hear to answer his quallitie \nand condition,\" and that he returned to England \n\" having scarcly saluted the cuntrie in his Gover- \nmente.\" He took with him a portion of his compan}^ \nprobably his personal friends and relations, but the \nrest he seems to have left under the charge of the \nRev. Mr. Morell. Had Robert Gorges sailed on his \nhomeward voyage directly from Wessagusset, it is \nvery possible the settlement there would have then \nbeen finally abandoned ; but as he apparently went \n\n\n154 THE ^'RIDICULUS MUSV 1624. \n\nback by way of the Maine fishing stations, the bulk \nof those composing it remained behind and only dis- \npersed by degrees. Later some returned to England, \nwhile others went on to Virginia. A few were con- \ntent to abide at Wessagusset, and for another year the \nRev. William Morell continued there with them. \n\nBut little more remains to be said of Robert Gorges \nor Thomas Weston. Before they parted, a settlement \nconsiderably to the advantage of the latter seems \nto have been effected between them. Not only was \nW^eston released from arrest, but his vessel was re- \nstored to him, and compensation made in kind for \nwhatever loss he had sustained. He thereupon once \nmore reappeared at Plymouth, and thence went to \nVirginia. Subsequently he seems for a time to have \nbeen engaged in trading along the coast, but for how \nlong, and whether to good purpose or otherwise, does \nnot appear. The only further mention found of him \nin Bradford is in connection with the mutinous spirit \nof discontent in the crew of the pinnace called the \nLittle James, which at about this time was sent out \nfor the service of the Plymouth Colony. Weston was \nsuspected of having given them bad advice. He at \nlast drifted back to England, where long afterwards, \nin the sj)ring or summer of 1645, about the time of \nthe battle of Naseby, he died at Bristol, a victim of \nthe plague.^ \n\nRobert Gorges had died long before. The two thus \nvanish. Both were men of the most ordinary type, — \nthe one by nature a coarse English huckster, the other \nan ambitious and apparently brainless boy : but in \nhistory they must each of them always continue to be \nmentioned as inseparably connected with very consid- \n\n1 Bradford, 153, n. ; Clarendon, Hist, of the EebeUion, ix. §§ 16, 43. \n\n\n1624. WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN! 155 \n\nerable events. Gorges was at the head of the first \npermanent settlement on the shores of Boston Bay. \nThough as a settlement it resulted in so litde that it \nwholly failed to influence the course of subsequent \nevents, and has been deemed worthy of but scant \nnotice in history, yet it was a distinct and organized \nattempt replete with possibilities. The key-point to \nthe eastern coast of Massachusetts was then waiting \nfor a first occupant. Had the resources and business \ncapacity of the elder Gorges been at all equal to his \nactivity and persistence ; had he been able to control, \nof ready money, a few thousand pomids more ; had \nhis son been a man of a little stronger will or more \nrobust body, — Endicott, Winthrop and Saltonstall \nwould, seven years later, have found the place in which \nthey then sat down so effectually closed against their \nmovement that they must necessarily have been forced \nto go elsewhere. \n\nIt is scarcely profitable to waste conjecture over \nwhat might have been, had the events of the past \nbeen other than they were : but, as will presently be \nseen, it was years before the Gorges claim ceased to \nbe a cause of anxiety to tlie later Puritan settlers. \nAt one time it threatened them with dangers which it \nseemed impossible to escape, — dangers which made \ndoubtful the peace and even the permanence of the \ncolony ; yet in the end it came to nothing. Time and \nthe course of larger events disposed of it. In half a \ncentury more, nothing remained of the work of Gor- \nges, or of the Council for New England, but some \nparchment titles which were extinguished after infi- \nnite litigation and at considerable cost. \n\nIt was not so with Thomas Weston. His work re- \nmained. He was just that blind instrument of fate \n\n\n156 THE ^^RIDICULUS MUSr 1624-5. \n\nwhich Gorges failed to be, and so blundered uncon- \nsciously into a small part in a great drama. He per- \nformed it wretchedly ; but the part was none the less \nhis, it was essential to the development of the drama, \nand it must always remain an indisputable historical \nfact that the individual cooperation of Thomas Wes- \nton was at one period indispensable to events which \ncompose the second page in the history of a conti- \nnent. The mark of the adventurer — vulgar, mer- \ncenary, broken - down though he was — will forever \ncontinue indelibly fixed on that page. He was one \nof those who, without ever knowing it, become neces- \nsary instruments in the hands of fate for the immedi- \nate working out of great events. \n\nThe number of those whom Robert Gorges left \nbehind in Weston's plantation is at most merely a \nmatter of antiquarian interest, nor is it probable it \nwill ever be known. They were certainly few. \nBradford mentions the fact that they received some \nassistance from Plymouth to enable them to overcome \nthe hardships always incident to new settlements ; but \notherwise, for the year immediately succeeding the \ndeparture of Gorges, there is no record of them. In \nthe spring of 1625, Morell also returned to England, \nhaving passed the intervening twelve months among \nhis own people at Wessagusset, though he took ship \nfrom Plymouth. It was then he first informed the \nauthorities there of the ecclesiastical commission which \nhe held ; for, during his sojourn in Massachusetts he \nseems to have passed his time in a quiet, unobtrusive \nway, attending to his own duties and troubling no one, \nwhile a priest of another description would almost \nassuredly have proved a mischief-maker. Being a \ngood classical scholar, as well as a man of observing \n\n\n1G24-5. ^'THE PLACE IS COMPLEATr 157 \n\nmind and gentle tastes, he whiled away the tedium \nof Wessagusset by composing a Latin poem, which, \ntogether with a rough metrical translation of it, he \npublished after his return to England.^ Unfortunately \nhe indulged himself only in poetic generalities, and \nmade no attempt to describe what he himself saw, or \nthe events \\)f which he was a part, and accordingly \nwhat he wrote has comparatively little either of per- \nmanent value or of interest. Yet one thing is ap- \nparent from it. A spring and summer at Wessagusset \nhad effaced, from his mind at least, the first impres- \nsions made by a New England winter. He was, \nindeed, as much charmed by the natural beauties of \nthe region about Boston Bay as he was disgusted with \nthe aborigines who inhabited it. He speaks in terms \nas glowing as Captain John Smith's of \"her sweet \nayre, rich soile, blest seas,\" where, as he renders his \nmore melodious Latin, \n\n\" The fruitfull and well watered earth doth glad \nAll hearts, when Flora 's with her spangles clad, \nAnd yeelds an hundred fold for one, \nTo feede the hee and to invite the drone. \n\n\nAll ore that maine the vernant trees abound. \nWhere cedar, cypres, spruce, and beech are found. \nAsh, oake, and wal-nut, pines, and junipere ; \nThe hasel, palme, and hundred more are there. \nTher 's grasse and hearbs contenting man and beast, \nOn which both deare, and beares, and wolves do feast. \n\nThe ayre and earth if good, are blessings rare, \nBut when with these the waters blessed are, \nThe place is compleat ; here each pleasant spring \nIs like those fountains where the muses sing. \nThe easie channels gliding to the east, \nUnlesse oreflowed then post to be releast, \n\n1 Both poem and translation are reprinted in i. Mass. Hist. Coll. \\. \n125. \n\n\n158 THE ^'RIDICULUS MUS.\" 1624-^. \n\nThe ponds and places where the waters stay, \nContent the fowler with all pleasant prey. \nThus ayre and earth and water give content, \nAnd highly honor this rich continent.\" ^ \n\nBut when he came to dealing with the noble red \nman, Morell is free in his expressions of disgust : — \n\n\" They 're wondrous cruell, strangely base and vile. \nQuickly displeased, and hardly reconcild. \n\n\nThemselves they warme, their ung-irt limbes they rest \nIn straw, and houses, like to sties.'' \n\nWith the Indian women he was far more favorably \nimpressed, and gives a pretty picture of their \" baskets \nwrought with art and lyne,\" and the straw hangings \nin which they wove \n\n*' Rare stories, princes, people, kingdomes, towers, \nIn curious finger-worke, or parchment flowera.\" \n\nIn regard to the settlement of which he was a part, \n\n1 The greater felicity of the Latin version, which has a remote ring \nof the Georgics, may be inferred from the following specimens : — \n\n*' Est locus oceiduo procul hinc spaciosus in orbe, \nPlurima regna tenens, populisque ineognitus ipsis. \nFelix f rugif eris suleis, simul sequore f elix : \nPraedis perdives variis, et flumine dives. \nAxe satis calidus, rigidoque a frigore tutus. \n\n\nProspera tranquillus conting-it littora portus, \nAltus, apertus, ubi valeant se condere naves, \nInvitis ventis, securfe rupe et arena, \n^quora multiplices pra^bent tranquilla marinas \nTemporibus solitis pr^das retentibus hamis : \nHalices, fagros, scombros, cancrosque locustas, \nOstrea curvatis conchis, conehasque trigones, \nCete, etiam rhombos, sargos, cum squatina asellos. \nHis naves vastas onerat piscator honestus : \nHis mercator opes cumulat venerabilis almas, \nHis pius ampla satis faciat sibi lucra colonos.\" \n\n\n1625-8. A WRONG LOCATION. 159 \n\none thing only can be inferred from Morell's pamphlet. \nBefore he left, it had become apparent to those com- \nposing the little community that a great mistake had \nbeen made in placing them at Wessagusset. In the \npreface to his poem Morell accordingly speaks, with \nsomething like feeling, of the hard lot of men who \nare \" landed upon an unknown shore, peradventure \nweake in number and naturall powers, for want of \nboats and carriages ; \" being for this reason compelled, \nwith a whole empty continent behind them, \" to stay \nwhere they are first landed, having no means to re- \nmove themselves or their goods, be the place never so \nf ruitlesse, or inconvenient for planting, building houses, \nboats, or stages, or the harbors never so unfit for fish- \ning, fowling, or moving their boats.\" \n\nThe settlers at Wessagusset were, in fact, repeating \non a smaller scale the experience of those at Plymouth. \nThey had chanced to put themselves in a wrong loca- \ntion. Through trade alone, in the absence of any \ncomprehensive scheme of colonization, could they hope \nto obtain those supplies from abroad absolutely essen- \ntial to their continued existence ; but for trading pur- \nposes neither Plymouth nor Wessagusset were favora- \nbly placed. The furs, which were the only product \nof the country, came from the interior. The single \nmeans of communication with the interior was by the \nrivers ; the canoe was the only conveyance. Wessa- \ngusset, it is true, was at the mouth of the little Mona- \ntiquot ; but the Monatiquot was hardly more than a \nbrook, and certainly could not have been navigable \nfor five miles, even by a birch-bark canoe. Mean- \nwhile the Neponset, the Charles and the Mystic all \nflowed into Boston Bay, and each of them afforded \nconsiderable access to the interior. Into them the \n\n\nIGO THE 'IRIDIC ULUS MUSr 1626-8. \n\nbrooks, the ponds and the swamps, which were the \nhaunt of the beaver, the otter and the mink, emptied \nor drained. \n\nNeither was Wessagusset more advantageously sit- \nuated as respects the ocean. 'A large fleet, numbering \nnot less than fifty sail, then traded annually along the \ncoast, and Boston Bay was so well known as a place \nof resort that the appearance of vessels there had \nlong since ceased to excite surprise among the In- \ndians; but Wessagusset was accessible to these ves- \nsels only by a narrow and devious river-channel, wind- \ning among shoals and tidal flats. Ships visiting the \nbay could, indeed, rarely have attempted to follow the \nchannel, but, lying at the anchorage below, must have \ncommunicated with the settlers by boat. From the \noutset, probably, Hull was used as a meeting-point. \n\nThere is, accordingly, some reason to suppose that, \nabout the time Morell returned to England, those \nwhom he left behind at Wessagusset began to do on a \nsmall scale what the Plymouth people shortly after \ndid on a much larger scale.^ These latter, having no \nfacilities for trade at home, first sent out expeditions \nfrom time to time to Boston Bay, and then established \na permanent trading station at Hull. Later they \nreached out further, and established a similar station \non the Kennebec ; and finally, in 1633, they attempted \none even on the Connecticut. From these came what \nlittle prosperity they had, for their soil at home \nyielded them at best but a scant subsistence. In the \nsame way, in 1625, those whom Morell had left at \nW^essagusset began to reach out to the more favored \npoints in Boston Bay. Blackstone moved across to \nthe north shore, and finally established himself, where \n\n1 Mem. Hist, of Boston, i. 78. \n\n\n1624-«. FORERUNNERS. 161 \n\nfive years later Winthrop found him, on the western \nslope of the peninsula of Shawmut, opposite the \nmouth of the Charles. Thomas Walford, an English \nblacksmith, who probably came as a mechanic with \nRobert Gorges, presently went over, taking with him \nhis wife, and built himself an \" English palisadoed \nand thatched house,\" near the mouth of the Mystic, \nat Mishawum, as what is now Charlestown was called. \nFinally, Samuel Maverick, being then a young man of \n22,^ came over in 1624,^ bringing with him his wife, \nAmias,^ and built at Winnisimmet, or Chelsea, a \nhouse which thirty-five years later was still standing, \n\" the Antientist house in the Massachusetts Govern- \nment.\" The following year he fortified this house \n\" with a Pillizado and fflankers, and gunnes both \nbelowe and above in them, which awed the Indians \nwho at that time had a mind to Cutt off the English. \nThey once faced it, but, receiveing a repulse, never \nattempted it more.\" This stronghold of Maverick's \nprobably served also as the common trading station. \nWilliam Jeffreys, John Bursley and some few others \nremained at Wessagusset. In this way the little col- \nony by degrees distributed itself about the shores of \nthe bay, Maverick and Walford only being within the \nlimits of the Robert Gorges grant.'^ They were all \nthat was left of the expedition which when it departed \nfrom England in August, 1623, supposed itself to be \nthe mere advance guard of a great system of coloniza- \ntion which was to establish the party of Church and \nKinor on the soil of the New World. \n\n1 Savage, Gen. Diet. \n\n2 Proc. Mass. Hist. Soc. Series II. i. 236, 372 ; iv. Mass. Hist. Coll. \nvii. 318. \n\n^ Sumner, £!ast Boston, 161. \n* Young, Chron. of Mass. 51, n. \n\n\nCHAPTER X. \n\n\" THOMAS MORTON OF CLIFFORD'S INN, GENT.\" \n\nAt or about the time Morell left Wessagnsset to \nfollow Robert Gorges back to England, a Captain \nWollaston sailed into Boston Bay in command of a \nvessel which there completed its voyage. On board \nof it was a little company of adventurers, consisting \nof three or four men of some substance, having with \nthem thirty or forty servants, as they were called, or \npersons who had sold their time for a period of years. \nThose in control of the expedition, of whom Wollas- \nton was chief, seem to have had no object in view ex- \ncept immediate gain, which they, like Weston, thought \nto secure by establishing a plantation, trading-post \nand fishing station on the shores of Massachusetts \nBay. Of Captain Wollaston himself almost nothing \nat all, not even his Christian name, is known. A ver- \nitable bird of passage, he flitted out from an English \nobscurity, rested for a brief space upon a hillock on \nthe shore of Boston Bay, giving to it his name as a \nmemorial forever, and then forthwith disappeared into \nthe oblivion from which he came. Among the Plym- \nouth people, Bradford says, he bore the reputation of \nbeing \" a man of pretie parts,\" and of \"• some emi- \nnencie ; \" and beyond this nothing is now known of \nhim.^ \n\n1 See Introduction to the N. E. Canaan, Prince Soc. ed. 1-2. \n\n\n1625. CAPTAIN WOLLASTON. 163 \n\nWith one exception, that exception being Thomas \nMorton of Clifford's Inn, Gent., as he was pleased to \ndescribe himself, even less is known of Wollaston's \ncompanions. Of Thomas Morton it will remain to \nspeak more at large presently, but it needs only here \nbe said it was probably from Morton that Wollaston \nand his companions derived such knowledge as they \nhad of the region in which they proposed to sit down. \nOtherwise they were as ignorant of it as Weston or \nRobert Gorges ; or more probably they, like Gorges, \nmisknew it, so to speak, through deceptive descrip- \ntions from the imaginative pen of Captain John Smith. \nBut, as compared with Thomas Morton, Smith was \ntame and matter-of-fact in his enthusiasm over New \nEngland. \n\nMorton, it has already been seen,^ was probably a \ncompanion of young Andrew Weston when the latter \ncame over to New England on his brother's ship, the \nCharity, in June, 1622. The Charity, it will be re- \nmembered, after disembarking the AVessagusset com- \npany, went on to Virginia, whence she presently came \nback to Massachusetts, and, towards the end of Sep- \ntember or early in October, sailed on her return voy- \nage to England. Morton landed with Green and the \nrest, and apparently remained with them at Wessa- \ngusset during the summer, returning with Andrew \nWeston to England in the early autumn.^ If such \n\n1 Supra, 59. \n\n2 Morton, in his book, never refers to himself as having- been in \nWeston's company, or as having- had any connection with him. Un- \nder the circumstances this silence on his part is not difficult to ac- \ncount for. At the time he wrote the New English Canaan, Morton \nwas a dependent on Gorg-es and the CoKncil for New England. Wes- \nton's expedition had left a very bad reputation behind it, and a pecul- \niarly disagreeable association in Gorg-es' mind. Morton, therefore, had \nevery inducement to ignore his own connection with it. None the less, \n\n\n164 THOMAS MORTON. 1625. \n\nwas indeed his experience, it is little cause for sur- \nprise that he was enamoured with New England, for \nhe saw it under its most agreeable aspect. With a \nkeen love of nature, he found himself for a whole sea- \nson rambling in a virgin wilderness. Passionately \nfond of sport, the bay was alive with fish, and the \nforest with bird and beast, — and all for him. There \nwas no suggestion of winter. It was indeed in every \naspect what Smith had described, — fresh, primeval, \ntree-covered New England. He had come to it also \nwhile it shone with the freshness of June ; and, roam- \ning through its unoccupied forest wilderness during \nthe months of July and August, he had gone away \njust as the full ripeness of the summer was mellowing \ninto rich autumnal tints. Accordingly it had seemed \nto him an earthly paradise, nor could he find language \nglowing enough in which to do justice to it : — \n\n\" And when I had more seriously considered of the \nbeauty of the place, with all her fair endowments, I did \nnot think that in all the known world it could be par- \nalleled ; for so many goodly gi-oves of trees, dainty, fine, \n\nhis own statement is curiously precise, and is consistent only with the \ntheory of his visit of 1623, set forth in the text : \" In the Moneth of \nlune, Anno Salutis, 1622, It was my chaunce to arrive in the parts of \nNew Eng-land with 30 ^^ervants, and provision of all sorts fit for a \nplantation : And whiles our howses were building, I did indeavour to \ntake a survey of the Country.\" The Charity was the only vessel \nwhich came to New England in June, 1622. Weston's was the only \nparty. At Wessagusset only did such a party build any houses \nWhile those houses were building, Morton rambled about the coun- \ntry. The Charity returned to England \" in the end of September or \nbeginning of October.*' No mention is made of Morton in the subse- \nquent winter experiences at Wessagusset. Had he remained there, \nsome mention could hardly fail to have been made of him. Conse- \nquently it would seem that he must have gone back in the Charity. \nSee Savage's note to Winthrop, i. *34 ; Young, Chron. of Pilg. 334, n. ; \nIntroductory matter to Prince Soc ed. of New English Canaan, passim. \n\n\n1625. *' NATURE'S MASTER-PIECE:' 165 \n\nround, rising hillocks, delicate, fair, large plains, sweet \ncrystal fountains, and clear running streams, that twine in \nfine meanders through the meades, making so sweet a mur- \nmuring noise to hear as would even lull the senses with de- \nlight asleep ; so pleasantly do they glide upon the pebble \nstones, jetting most jocundly where they do meet, and, hand \nin hand, run down to Neptune's Court to pay the yearly \ntribute which they owe to him as sovereign Lord of all the \nsprings. Contained within the volume of the land [are] \nfowls in abundance, fish in multitudes, and [I] discovered, \nbesides, millions of turtle-doves on the green boughs, which \nsat pecking of the full, ripe, pleasant grapes that were sup- \nported by the lusty trees, whose fruitful load did cause the \narms to bend ; while, here and there dispersed, you might \nsee [also] lilies of the Daphnean tree, which made the land \nto me seem Paradise ; for in mine eye 't was Nature's mas- \nter-piece, — her chiefest magazine of all, where lives her \nstore. If this land be not rich, then is the whole world \npoor ! \" \n\nGoing back to England, he was eager to return to \nAmerica : for not only v^^as he fascinated with the \ncountry as a sportsman and Igver of nature, but he \nconfidently believed that a most profitable trade with \nthe savages might be opened ; and, in the absence of all \nevidence bearing directly on the origin and move- \nments of the WoUaston company, it may fairly be in- \nferred that he who thus described this paradise of \n\" lilies of the Daphnean tree,\" guided that company \nto a destination in Boston Bay, naturally directing his \nown and his companions' course to those places which \nhe so vividly recalled. Wessagusset the newcomers \nfound still occupied by the remnants of Gorges' com- \npany, who had now been there nearly two years. \nNecessarily, therefore, they had to look elsewhere for \nan abiding-place. A couple of miles or so north \n\n\nIGG THOMAS MORTON. 1625. \n\nof Wessagusset, on the other side of the Monatoquit \nand within the limits of what is now the city of \nQuincy, was a place called by the Indians Passona- \ngessit. The two localities were separated from each \nother not only by the river, which at its mouth widens \nout into a spacious tidal estuary, but by the numerouL. \nsalt-water creeks and basins which here indent the \nshore, and into which drained the tangled and then \nimpassable swamps. At Passonagessit the newcomers \nestablished themselves, and the place has ever since \nbeen known as Mt. WoUaston. For the purposes of \nthe adventurers, Passonagessit was in many respects \na better location than Wessagusset. They had come \nto trade. However it may have been with the others, \nin Morton's mind at least the plantation was, in all \nprobability, a mere incident to the more profitable \ndealing in furs ; and consequently a prominent posi- \ntion on the shore, in plain view of the entrance to the \nbay, would be with him an important consideration. \nThis was found at Passonagessit. It was a spacious \nupland, rising gently from the beach, and, an eighth \nof a mile or so from it, swelling into a hill. No con- \nsiderable stream connected it with the interior, but it \nlay at the mouth of a creek which emptied into a \nquiet tidal bay formed by two promontories a couple \nof miles apart. Beyond lay the islands of Boston \nHarbor, in apparently connected succession, among \nwhich the ship channel threaded its devious way. \nBut Passonagessit, as those who now occupied it \ndoubtless soon found out, labored under one serious \ndisadvantage. There was no deep water near it, and, \nexcept at the flood of the tide, it could be approached \nonly in boats. Nevertheless, among and behind the \nneighboring islands there were good and ample an- \n\n\n1625. PASSONAGESSIT. 167 \n\nchorage grounds, and, so far as planting was con- \ncerned, the spot they had chosen, lying as it did close \nto \" the Massachusetts fields,\" had some years before \nbeen cleared of trees by the sachem Chickatabot, who \nhad there made his place of dwelling until the time \nof the great pestilence, when he had abandoned it. \nAt Passonagessit he had buried his mother. \n\nThe adventurers built their house nearly on the \ncentre of the summit of the hill, where it slopes gently \naway from the water to the west and south, and from \nit they commanded a wide view in all directions. On \nthe side towards the bay every entrance to the harbor \nwas in plain sight, so that no vessel could enter with- \nout its presence being instantly known. On the other \nside, at the distance of a mile or so, the land towards \nthe interior began to rise into round, swelling heights, \nbeyond which lay the heavily wooded range referred to \nby Smith as \"the high mountaine of Massachusit,\" and \nnamed on his map the Chevyot Hills. To the north, \nacross the marshes and a shallow tidal bay, was \nSquantum, where Standish had first landed ; and still \nfurther, on the other side of the Neponset, Mattapan. \nThe hills of Shawmut — on the western side of the \nlaro^er of which Blackstone was even then buildinsf the \nfirst house of future Boston — could be seen still \nfurther to the north, and deep in the recesses of the \nharbor, though not more than four or five miles away. \nWessagusset lay to the south, and, except for the \nwoods which covered the uplands, within easy view. \nBetween it and Mt. Wollaston were the river, the \ntidal basin, and the mai-shes intersected by creek. All \nthe region in the immediate vicinity of the shore was \ninterspersed with swamps, full of vermin and impas- \nsable except when solid with frost, but through and \n\n\n168 THOMAS MORTON. 1626. \n\namong which ran gravel ridges, affording to those ac- \nquainted with them easy means of passage. Except \nwhere comparatively small patches of land had been \ncleared for Indian cultivation, the country was cov- \nered by a dense forest growth. \n\nA season must have passed away while the party \nwere engaged in building their houses and laying out \na plantation. The winter followed. One winter on \nthat bleak shore seems to have sufficed for Captain \nWollaston, as it had sufficed for Robert Gorges, and \nin the course of it he came to the conclusion that \nfor him there was little profit and no satisfaction to \nbe got out of New England. Accordingly, early in \n1626, he determined to go elsewhere ; and, taking with \nhim a number of the articled servants, he set sail for \nVirginia, leaving one of his associates, Rasdall by \nname, in charge of the plantation. If he did not find \nin Virginia a place of settlement to his liking. Cap- \ntain Wollaston there found at least a ready market for \nhis servants ; and it is said he soon sold the time of \nthose he took with him on terms satisfactory to him- \nself. He then sent back directions to Rasdall to turn \nthe government of the plantation over to another of \nthe associates, named Fitcher, and himself to come at \nonce to Virginia, bringing with him another detach- \nment of the servants. These, also, Wollaston disposed \nof. But now the presence of Thomas Morton began \nto make itself felt at Mt. Wollaston. His associates \napparently intended to break up the enterprise and \nabandon the plantation. Such a course in no way \ncommended itself to him. He liked the country, and \nhe seems to have felt satisfied that a longer stay in it \nwould be not only to his taste, but could be made ex- \ntremely profitable. \n\n\n1626. \"A PROUD INSOLENT MAN:* 169 \n\nOf this man's earlier life, before he came to Amer- \nica, nothing whatever is now known. He had cer- \ntainly received a classical education of some sort ; for, \nthough he could not write English, he yet throughout \nall the odd jumble of his composition shows, amid \nan elaborate display of that pedantry then so much in \nvogue, some familiarity with the more common Latin \nwriters. In his letter to the Countess of Lincoln, \nGovernor Dudley speaks of him as \" a proud insolent \nman,\" who had been \" an attorney in the West coun- \ntries while he lived in England: \" and he further in- \ntimates that Morton had been there implicated in some \nfoul crimes, on account of which warrants were out \nagainst him. Nathaniel Morton, in his \" Memorial/ \npieces out this indictment by intimating that the crime \nthus referred to was the killing of a partner concerned \nwith Thomas Morton in his first New England ven- \nture ; and Thomas Wiggin, of Piscataqua, corroborates \nNathaniel Morton to some extent by stating, on the \nauthority of Thomas Morton's \" wife's sonne and \nothers,\" that he had fled to New England \" upon a \nfoule suspition of murther.\" ^ But in accepting charges \nmade against Thomas Morton by the magistrates of \nPlymouth or Massachusetts, or by those sympathizing \nwith them, it is necessary to make allowances and ex- \nercise much caution, for in their eyes he was not only \na profane man, a scoffer and a wine-bibber, but he \nwas also a thorn in their sides. Moreover, he was a \nspy, and in league with their enemies. They had \ntreated him with Puritan severity, and he in turn an- \nswered with intrigue and reviling. They accordingly \nbelieved anything that was said against him, and did \n\n1 See introductory matter to the Prince Soc. ed. of N. E. Canaan, \npassim. \n\n\n170 THOMAS MORTON. 1626. \n\nnot hesitate to record rumors as facts. Yet, so far as \nthe stories of his heinous crimes in England were con- \ncerned, it is very clear that, though twice they sent \nhiui back a prisoner to answer for them, no proceed- \nings were ever taken against him, nor could he even \nbe kept in confinement.^ \n\n1 A disposition has been recently evinced, by certain WTiters of \nChurch of England proclivities, to adopt Morton's cause and take up \nthe cudgels on his behalf as against the New England sectarians. \nMorton was a bora Bohemian and reckless libertine, without either \nmorals or religion, and he probably cared no more for the Church of \nEngland than he did for that of Rome. The New English Canaan \nspeaks both for itself and its author. From beginning to end. it is sat- \nurated with revelry and scoffing. But in his quarrel with his Puri- \ntan neighbors Morton found himself thrown into close alliance with \nGorges and Laud. His only chance of getting either revenge or jus- \ntice lay through them. Accordingly he posed to them, as well as he \nknew how, as a Church of England martyr. The part Avas not a very \ncongenial one, and he made an odd piece of work with it ; but still he \ndid masquerade as a devotee, after a fashion. His method of putting \nthe matter is by no means one of the least characteristic passages of \nhis most amusing book. He had been describing with immense gusto \nthe revelries, drunkenness and debauchery at Mt. Wollaston, — how a \nbarrel of excellent beer and \"a case of bottles\" had been provided \nfor all comers, and \" the good liquor \" had been \" filled out ; \" how \nthe \" lasses in beaver coats \" had been \" welcome to us night and \nday ; \" how \" he that played Proteus (with the helpe of Priapus) put \ntheir noses out of joynt as the Proverbe is,\" — he had just been de- \nscribing these scenes, when, on the next page, his tone changes. The \npeople at Plymouth, he goes on to say, planned to subvert his plantar \ntion, ' ' and the rather, because mine host was a man that indeavoured \nto advance the dignity of the Church of England ; which they (on \nthe contrary part) would laboure to vilifie, with uncivile termes : en- \nveyiiig against the sacred booke of common prayer, and mine host \nthat used it in a laudable manner amongst his family, as a practise of \npiety.\" \n\nThis comical allusion to the Church of England and the \" sacred \nbooke of common prayer\" was enough. The amusing old debauchee \nand tippler became a devout martyr at once, or at least as nearly the \nsemblance of one as he could make himself. Such references to him \nas the following are then found : \" It still remains for Massachusetts \nto do justice to Morton, who had his faults, though he was not the \n\n\n1G26. A ''KIND OF PETIE-FOGGER.\" 171 \n\nThat Morton had been married would appear from \nthe letter of Wiggin which has just been referred to. \nHe says of himself, also, that he was \" bred in so \ngenious a way \" that in England he had the common \nuse of hawks in fowling, so that he was unquestion- \nably an accomplished sportsman after the fashion of \nthat day. Whatever the experiences of his earlier life \nmay have been (and the chances are that they were \nsufficiently varied), Bradford says that, when he came \nto America, Morton was a '' kind of petie-fogger of \nFurne veil's Inne,\" while ten years later, when he pub- \nlished the \" New English Canaan,\" he describes him- \nself in its title-page as \" of Clifford's Inn, Gent.\" It \nis, therefore, fairly to be inferred that he was more \nor less a lawyer. That he was not wholly without \n\nman his enemies, and notably Bradford, declared him to be.\" (Pre- \nface to White's Memoirs of the Protestant Episcopal Church, p. xxii. n.) \n\" The text-books used [at the Merry -Mount school of atheism] were \nthe Bible and Common Prayer,\" and \"it is undeniable that Morton \nbecame an object of aversion largely for the reason that he used this \nPrayer Book.\" {Mag. of Am. History, yiiu 83.) \"Boston, however, \nwas resolved, and accordingly they invented the charge of cruelty \nagainst the Indians, as well as insinuations respecting [Morton's] \ntreatment of their women, whom, in reality, he had sought to instruct \nin the principles of religion.\" (lb. 89.) Again the same author, in \na paper on William Blackstone, in The Churchman of September 25, \n1880, says : \" The first mention of Blackstone is that of June 9, 1628, \nwhen he was assessed twelve shillings towards the expense of arrest- \ning Morton of Merry-Mount, though there is nothing to prove that he \npaid the tax or sympathized with the proceeding.' ' This statement is \nincorrect. There is certainly evidence to prove that Blackstone both \npaid the tax and sympathized in the proceeding, though the suffi- \nciency of that evidence may be questioned. Bradford mentions Black- \nstone by name as one of those siibscribing to the letter to the Council \nfor New England, sent to England with Morton, and also as one of \nthose contributing to the charge of the arrest (i. Mass. Hist. Coll. \niii. 63). No evidence could be more direct. See, also, the ingenious \nversion of the whole episode of Merry-Mount given by Oliver in his \nPuritan Commonwealth (pp. 37-39). \n\n\n172 THOMAS MORTON. 1626. \n\nmeans is evident from the fact that he owned an in- \nterest in the Wollaston venture ; though here again \nBradford takes pains to say that the share he repre- \nsented C of his owne or other mens \") was small, and \nthat he himself had but little respect amongst the ad- \nventurers, and was slighted by even the meanest ser- \nvants. But whether he had means of his own or not, \nand with whatever lack of consideration he may have \nbeen treated by his companions, there can be no doubt \nthat Morton was a man of convivial temper and a \nhumorist. That his moral character was decidedly \nloose is apparent from his own statements, and such \nreligious views as he had must have been mixed in \ncharacter; yet, withal, he was a close observer, and \nhis strange, incoherent, rambling book contains one of \nthe best descriptions of Indian life, traits and habits, \nand of the trees, products and animal life of New \nEngland, which has come down to us. The man had, \nin fact, an innate love of nature, and an Englishman's \npassion for field sports. What, except love of adven- \nture, ever originally brought him to New England, is \nnot likely to be known; but, when once he got there, \nhe was never able to take himself off, nor could \nothers drive him away. At home he was probably a \ndisreputable London lawyer, not . unfamiliar with the \nAlsatian life which Scott has depicted in his \" For- \ntunes of Nigel.\" As such he was fonder of the tavern \nthan of chambers, and felt much more himself when \nranging the fields with hawk or hound than when rum- \nmaging law books ; for he seems really to have been \nan adept in the mysteries of falconry, and probably \nThomas Morton is the only man who ever flew bird \nat quarry in Massachusetts. Indeed, he grows warm \nand almost lucid as, in his description of the country, \n\n\n1626. A WAIF IN A WILDERNESS. 173 \n\nhe tells of its falcons and goshawks and lannerets, — \nof hood, bells and lures ; and describes how, on his \nfirst coming, he caught a lanneret which he \" reclaimed, \ntrained and made flying in a fortnight, the same \nbeing a passinger at Michuelmas.\" This man — born \na sportsman, bred a lawyer, ingrained a humorist and \nan adventurer — by some odd freak of destiny was \nflung up as a waif in the wilderness on the shores of \nBoston Bay. For him his lines had then fallen in \npleasant places ; nor was it strange he liked the life, \nbeing robust of frame, eager in the chase and fond of \nnature. He was of those whom the harsh, variable \nNew England climate, with its brilliant skies, its bra- \ncing atmosphere, its rasping ocean winds and its ex- \ntremes of heat and cold, does not kill, — and such it \nexhilarates. So, not even a succession of winters \npassed on the bleak summit of his seaside hill ever \nmade Thomas Morton swerve from his belief that \nNew England was \"Natures Master-peece,\" without \na parallel in all the world. He was of one mind with \nthe Rev. Francis Higginson of Salem when he wrote, \n\" A sup of New Englands Aire is better than a \nwhole draught of old Englands Ale.\" \n\n\nCHAPTER XI. \n\nTHE MAY-POLE OF MERRY-MOUNT. \n\nIt would seem most probable that Rasdall, with the \nsecond detachment of servants, had followed Wollas- \nton to Virginia some time during the summer of 1626. \nThe company had then been at Passonagessit over a \nyear ; and, as supplies were running short, the general \nspirit of the settlement was far from being one of con- \ntentment. Morton did not fail to take advantage of \nthis condition of affairs,^ gradually instilling into the \nminds of those few of the servants who still remained \nunsold a suspicion, for which doubtless there were \nvery sufficient grounds, that it would be their turn \nnext to go to Virginia. He then suggested that, if \nthey would make him the head of the little settlement, \nthey could all dwell together as equals, protecting one \nanother, and deriving profit from planting and from \ntrade. Exclusive of Pitcher, who was now in charge, \nthere were but seven left at the plantation. All of \n\n1 It is a noticeable feature in the New English Canaan that Morton \nnever once mentions Wollaston's name, or makes any reference to the \nfacts connected with the change in the control at Mt. WoUaston de- \nscribed by Bradford. Yet Bradford must have derived his knowledge \nof these facts from Fitcher, or from those neighbors of Fitcher's \namong whom he was forced \"to seeke bread to eate, till he could get \npassages for England.\" Morton subsequenth' also, at two different \nperiods, passed a considerable time at Plymouth, where undoubtedly \nthe proceedings at Merry-Mount were common town-talk. His silence, \ntherefore, on the earlier incidents connected with his life in New Eng- \nland is extremely suggestive of an unwillingness to talk about them. \n\n\n1626-7. ''MA~RE MOUNTS 175 \n\nthese Morton won over to his views, and at last a \nspecies of mutiny broke out, as the result of which \nCaptain Wollaston's deputy was fairly put out-of-doors, \nand compelled to seek food and shelter at Wessagus- \nset. Then began at Mt. WoUaston a singular episode \nin connection with New England history, — an episode, \nthe bizarre effect of which it is not easy to describe. \n\nMorton had come to New England with two very \ndistinct ends in view, — the one, enjoyment, the other, \nprofit ; and he was equally reckless in his methods of \nobtaining each. It will be necessary later on to refer \nto his methods as a trader, in regard to which he pre- \nserves in his book a discreet silence ; but his pleasures, \nand the enjoyment he found in that free country life, \n— these he dilates upon with a free hand and running \npen. He delighted in wandering, fowling-piece in \nhand, over all the neighboring hills, or sailing in his \nboat on the bay. With the Indians, he was evidently \nthe most popular of Englishmen ; for not only did they \nact as his huntsmen and guides, but they participated \nin his revels, — and not the men only, but the women \nalso. Indeed, one of the principal allegations subse- \nquently made against Morton referred to the very \nanomalous relations existing between himself and the \nneighboring squaws. Finally his taste for boisterous \nenjoyment culminated in a proceeding which scandal- \nized the coast. \n\nThe winter of 1626-7 at last wore itself away. \nAs the spring advanced towards the first of May, \ngreat preparations were on foot at Mt. Wollaston, \nthough to the dwellers there the place was no longer \nknown either by that name or as Passonagessit. It \nwas Ma-re Mount now ; and in the name of Ma-re \nMount, too, lay thinly concealed a play upon words of \n\n\n17C THE MAY-POLE OF MERRY-MOUNT May, \n\nsome significance, — for, whereas Merry-Mount would, \nin its avowed gracelessness, have been well calculated \nto stir the pious indignation of the Plymouth Separa- \ntists, and to be held up against the neighboring plan- \ntation as proof sufficient of the evil practices there in \nvogue, Ma-re Mount, if the name were so pronounced \nand spelled, was simply an ajipropriate as well as a \nhighly characteristic display of Latinity. Having de- \ncided upon the name, it only remained to confirm it \nby suitable ceremonies as a memorial ; and, when it \ncame to doing this, it hardly needs to be said that \nMorton was a stout friend of the rough, open-air \namusements which still cause the England of those \ndays to be referred to in ours with the pleasant prefix \nof \" merrie.\" So, now, on May-day, a pole was to be \nreared at Ma-re Mount, with revelry, games and re- \njoicings after the English wont. \n\nOf what actually took place at Mt. WoUaston, on \nthis May-day of 1627, we know through the account \nleft us by Morton, — himself \"mine host\" of the oc- \ncasion, or Lord of Misrule, — and, whether it be \nstrictly accurate in all respects or not, that account \nlacks neither minuteness nor picturesque effect. Ab- \nstinence, except in Puritan circles, was not a virtue of \nthe time. On the contrary, the reign of James I. was \na period of \" heavy-headed revel, east and west,\" dur- \ning which drunkenness, whether in man or woman, \nwas looked upon as hardly worse than an amiable \nweakness. Morton was no reformer. A barrel of \nstrong beer and a liberal supply of bottles containing \nyet stronger fluids were, therefore, part of the good \ncheer made ready for all comers on the festal day. \nThe May-pole was the stem of a pine-tree, eighty feet \nin length, wreathed with garlands and made gay with \n\n\n1627. THE MAY-POLE. 177 \n\nribbons, while, near its top, were nailed the spreading \nantlers of a buck. When at last the holiday came, \nthis pole was dragged, amid the noise of drums and \nthe discharge of firearms, to the summit of the mount, \nand there firmly planted ; the savages, who had flocked \nin to see the white man's revels, lending a willing hand \nin the work. After the fashion of the period, Morton \nwas fond of scribbling verses, in which it is not easy \nnow to detect poetry or rhythm or sense ; so for this \noccasion he had what he called a poem in readiness, a \ncopy of which was affixed to the pole.^ Of it the \nauthor wrote that although it had reference to then \ncurrent events, yet it \" being Enigmattically composed \npusselled the Seperatists most pittifully to expound \nit.\" Time certainly has failed to cast any new light \n\n1 THE POEM. \n\nRise CEdipeus, and if thou canst unfould, \n\nWhat meaues Caribdis underneath the mould, \n\nWhen Scilla soUitary on the ground, \n\n(Sitting in forme of Niohe) was found ; \n\nTill Amphitrites Darling did acquaint. \n\nGrim Neptune with the Tenor of her plaint, \n\nAnd causd him send forth Triton with the sound. \n\nOf Trumpet lowd, at which the Seas were found. \n\nSo full of Protean formes, that the hold shore, \n\nPresenteth Scilla a new parramore, \n\nSo stronge as Sampson and so patient, \n\nAs Job himselfe, directed thus, by fate, \n\nTo comfort Scilla so unfortunate. \n\nI doe professe by Cupids beautious mother, \n\nHeres Scogans choise for Scilla, and none other ; \n\nThough Scilla's sick with greife because no signe. \n\nCan there be found of vertue masculine. \n\nEsculapius come, I know right well, \n\nHis laboure 's lost when you may ring her Knell, \n\nThe fatall sisters doome none can withstand, \n\nNor Cithareas powre, who poynts to land, \n\nWith proclamation that the first of May, \n\nAt Ma-re Mount shall be kept liollyday. \n\n\n178 THE MAY-POLE OF MERRY-MOUNT. May, \n\nupon its meaning. Bradford says that these \" rimes \" \naffixed to this ''idle or idoll May-pole\" tended ''to \nthe detraction and scandall of some persons;\" but \nwho those persons were he fails to specify, and Mor- \nton denied the charge. In any event, with the excep- \ntion of the two last lines, in which the first of May is \nproclaimed a holiday at Ma-re Mount, tliis earliest of \nall American efforts at lyric verse is a hodge-podge of \npedantry, which the author's own commentary fails to \nmake intellimble. \n\nNevertheless, such as it was, \"the poem\" was \nready; and no sooner did the May-pole stand erect \nthan the scrawl was fastened to it, and then the revels \nand the merriment began. Joining hands, the whole \ncompany circled in rude dance round about the ant- \nlered and garlanded pine, making the shore ring with \ntheir shouts and laughter. They had also a song ^ of \n\n1 THE SONGE. \n\nDrinke and be merry, merry, merry boyes ; \nLet all your delig-ht be in the Hymens ioyes ; \nlo to Hymen, now the day is come, \nAbout the merry Maypole take a Roome. \n\nMake greene garlons, bring bottles out \n\nAnd fill sweet Nectar, freely about. \n\nVneover thy head and feare no harme. \n\nFor hers good liquor to keepe it waime. \nThen drinke and be merry, &c. \n16 to Hymen, &c. \n\nNectar is a thing assign' d. \n\nBy the Deities owne minde, \n\nTo cure the hart opprest with greif e, \n\nAnd of good liquors is the chiefe. \nThen drinke, &c. \nlo to Hymen, &c. \n\nGive to the Mellancolly man \n\nA cup or two of 't now and than ; \n\nThis physick will soone revive his bloud, \n\nAnd make him be of a merrier moode. \n\n\n1627. A GLEAM OF SUNLIGHT. 179 \n\na highly Bacchanalian character, another of Morton's \nproductions ; and this he says was sung by one of the \ncompany, who also acted as a Ganymede, filling out \nthe good liquor to his companions as they at intervals \nstruck into the chorus. These verses Bradford ap- \nparently looked upon as '' tending to lasciviousness ; \" \nbut, though rather less unintelligible, they were hardly \nmore harmonious or better worth preserving than \n\" the poem,\" except that one line, that in which ref- \nerence is made to \"lasses in beaver coats,\" has some \nsignificance as throwing a gleam of light on the make- \nup of the motley crew which gambolled about the \nMay-pole. \n\nAllowing for the difference between the old and \nnew styles. May-day, in the year 1627, fell upon what \nis now the eleventh of the month. It is, therefore, \nmore probable than it otherwise would be that the \noccasion at Merry-Mount resembled in some respects \nthe sweet English anniversary, the observance of \nwhich it was thus sought to transplant ; but, whether \nthe Massachusetts May-day of 1627 resembled the \nideal English May-day or not, the episode which has \ngiven it a place in history now breaks in upon the \nleaden gloom of the early New England annals like a \nsingle fitful gleam of sickly sunlight, giving the chill \nsurroundings a transient glow of warmth, of cheerful- \nness, of human sympathy. Before that May-day at \n\nThen drinke, &c. \n16 to Hymen, &c. \n\nGive to the Nymphe thats free from scome \n\nNo Irish stuff nor Scotch over worne. \n\nLasses in beaver coats come away, \n\nYee shall be welcome to us night and day. \nTo drinke and be meiTy &c. \nlo to Hvmen, &c. \n\n\n180 THE MAY-POLE OF MERRY-MOUNT. May, \n\nMt. WoUaston, there is a record of but one single \nattempt to introduce into New England those games \nand sports which were peculiar to certain anniversa- \nries of the mother land. The result of that attempt \nwas not propitious. The incident is familiar, but it \nwill always bear repetition. It occurred at Plymouth, \nin December 1621. \n\nThe first year in the life of the little settlement was \nthen just drawing to its close. A few weeks before, a \nsmall vessel had arrived in which were thirty-five im- \nmigrants, most of whom, as Bradford expresses it, \n\" were lusty yonge men, and many of them wild \nenough, who litle considered whither or aboute what \nthey wente.\" They were not Puritans, and much less \nwere they Separatists ; but, when landed, they were \nin due time disposed of among the several families. \nPresently came Christmas-day, the day in all the year \nfrom time immemorial associated in the English mind \nwith thoughts of home and kindliness and goodwill \nto men, — a day set apart for games, feasting and \njollity. On this Christmas morning at Plymouth the \nGovernor arose, and, as was the custom on other days, \ncalled the men together to go out to work. Most of \nthe newcomers, liking not the innovation, excused \nthemselves on the ground of conscientious scruples \nagainst labor on that day. The Governor, in a pas- \nsage \" rather of mirth than of waight,\" which carries \nwith it still the echoes of a grim chuckle, thus goes on \nto tell in his own language of the ready wit with \nwhich he discomfited the revellers. They had alleged \nconscientious scruples : — \n\n\"So the Governor tould them that if they made it \nmater of conscience, he would spare them till they were \nbetter informed. So he led-awav the rest and left them • \n\n\n1627. THE FEAST OF FLORA. 181 \n\nbut when they came home at noone from their worke, he \nfound them in the streete at play, openly; some pitching \nthe barr, and some at stoole-ball, and shuch like sports. So \nhe went to them, and tooke away their implements, and \ntould them that was against his conscience, that they should \nplay and others worke. If they made the keeping of it \nmater of devotion, let them kepe their houses, but ther \nshould be no gameing or revelling in the streets. Since \nwhich time nothing hath been attempted that way, at least \nopenly.\" ^ \n\nThus early the psalm drowned the stave in New \nEngland. The sudden breaking in of Morton's rol- \nlicking chorus on that solemn silence seems, therefore, \nlike a thing arranged. There is much fitness in it, \nalso, for it sounds like a protest of human nature at \nthe attempted suppression of its joyous and more at- \ntractive half. When the faint echoes of that chorus \nreached Plymouth, language in which adequately to \nexpress their reprehension of such doings wholly failed \nthe people there. Neither were their feelings quite \nso inexplicable or so wholly without reason as might \nnow at first appear, for May-day was, in the reigns of \nElizabeth and James, by no means the innocent, joy- \nous welcoming of spring which tradition represents it. \nThat was essentially a gross and immoral, as well as \nan intemperate period. Christmas was at least a \nChristian festival. May-day was not. It was of dis- \ntinctly Pagan origin, whether traced back to the Dru- \nids or to the Romans. It represented all that was \n\n^ One of the formal '' objections against the laws of New England,\" \nsubmitted to the Lords of the Council for Trade and Plantation in \n1677 as a part of the proceedings instigated by Randolph, was in \nthese words : \" Whosoever shall observe such a day as X'mas by for- \nbearing labor, feasting, &c., shall forfeit 5\\\" v. Mass. Hist. Coll. i. \n502. \n\n\n182 THE MAY-POLE OF MERRY-MOUNT. 1627. \n\nleft of the worship of Flora ; ^ and in the last half of \nthe sixteenth century there was a great deal of that \nworship left. As Philip Stubs, writing in 1585, says, \n\" of fourtie, threescore, or an hundred maides going \nto the wood [a-Maying] there have scarcely the third \npart of them returned home againe as they went.\" \nThis then was what May-day represented, not only to \nBradford and his people, but to Morton and his crew. \nIt was a day of incontinence. \n\nIncongruous and laughable, the situation had its \ndramatic features also. It was not a vulgar modern \ninstance of the frontier dance-hall under the eaves of \na conventicle. There was a certain distance and \ngrandeur and dignity about it, — a majesty of soli- \ntude, a futurity of empire. On the one hand, the \nsombre religious settlement ; on the other, the noisy \ntrading-post, — two germs of civilized life in that \nimmeasurable wilderness, unbroken, save at Merry- \nMount and Plymouth, from the Penobscot to the \nHudson. Yet that wilderness, though immeasurable \nto them, was not large enough for both. Merry- \nMount was roaring out its chorus in open defiance of \nPlymouth, and Plymouth was so scandalized at the \ndoings at Merry-Mount that, when he heard of them, \nGovernor Bradford thus expressed himself : — \n\n\" They allso set up a May-pole, drinkinjr and dancing \naboute it many clays togeather, inviting the Indean women, \nfor their consorts, dancing and frisking togither, (like so \nmany fairies, or furies rather,) and worse practises. As if \nthey had anew revived and celebrated the feasts of the Ro- \nman Goddes Flora, or the beasly practieses of the madd \nBacchinalians.\" \n\n^ Mather, Testimony against Prophane and Superstitious Customs, \nPreface. \n\n\nCHAPTER XII. \n\nNANTASKET AND THOMSON'S ISLAND. \n\nBetween the year 1625, when Wollastoii landed \nhis company, and 1627, when Morton set up his May- \npole, two new settlements, if such they deserve to be \ncalled, had been effected on Boston Bay. One of \nthese was at Nantasket, or Hull ; the other at Thom- \nson's Island and Squantum. \n\nIt would seem that a sort of outlying trading-post, \n\" something like an habitation,\" was established at \nNantasket as early as 1622, the season following \nMiles Standish's first visit, and in consequence of it ; \nthough in all probability it was nothing more than \none of those shore stations which, located at various \npoints on the coast, especially in Maine, were occupied \nduring certain seasons of each year by the fishermen \nand traders. It has also been stated ^ that in this year \nthree men, named Thomas and John Gray and Walter \nKnight, purchased Nantasket of Chickatabot, and \nthere settled themselves. The next addition to their \nnumber, if these persons did indeed sit down at Hull \nat this time, came in a very questionable and far from \nheroic or triumphant way. \n\nThe episode of John Lyford and John Oldham, the \nnext dwellers, though only temporary, at Hull, is one \nof the most characteristic and entertaining in the \nearly history of Plymouth. Both had come over early, \n\n1 Drake, Boston, 41. \n\n\n184 NANTASKET AND THOMSON'S ISLAND. 1624 \n\n— Oldham in the Anne, which arrived in July, 1623, \na couple of months before the coming of Robert Gorges, \nand Lyford in the spring of 1624, some nine months \nlater. Neither of them belonged to the general body, \nas it was called, of the Plymouth associates. Oldham \ncame on his own account, it being agreed that indi- \nvidual holdings should be assigned to him and others, \nand that they should be subject merely to the general \ngovernment ; while Lyford, who was an Episcopalian \nclergyman, was sent over, apparently, at the instance \nof a portion of the London adventurers. Oldham \nwas a strong-willed man of violent temper, restless, \nadventurous and eager of gain, — \"a mad Jack in \nhis mood,\" as Morton called him. Lj^ord was com- \nmended by those who sent him out as \" an honest \nplaine man, though none of the most eminente and \nrare,\" but he proved to be a disreputable, broken-down \nelerg}Tnan, of loose morals and no self-respect. Before \nLyford' s arrival, Oldham had already begun to cause \ntrouble, spreading discontent among those in the gen- \neral body, and sending back to England very discour- \naging accounts of the condition of things. Bradford \ndescribes Lyford's landing as follows : — \n\n\" When this man first came a shore, he saluted them with \nthat reverence and hiimilitie as is seldome to be seen, and \nindeed made them ashamed, he so bowed and cringed unto \nthem, and would have kissed their hands if they would have \nsuffered him ; yea, he wept and shed many tears, blessing God \nthat had brought him to see their faces ; and admiring the \nthings they had done in their wants, &c., as if he had been \nmade all of love. . . . After some short time he desired to \njoyne himselfe a member to the church hear, and was ac- \ncordingly received. He made a large confession of his faith, \nand an acknowledgemente of his former disorderly walkuig, \n\n\n1624. INTERCEPTED LETTERS. 185 \n\nand his being intangled with many corruptions, which had \nbeen a burthen to his conscience, and blessed God for this \nopportunitie of freedom and libertie to injoye the ordinan- \ncies of God in puritie among his people, with many more \nsuch like expressions.\" \n\nPoor creature as he was, Lyford seems to have been \nreceived at Plymouth with great consideration, and \nconsulted by the magistrates on the more important \nmatters of public concernment. Thus all went on \nsmoothly for a while ; but, presently, began indications \nof trouble, which, of course, assumed the form of fac- \ntion. All the perverse and discontented elements of \nthe little community centred about Oldham and Ly- \nford, and it was at Plymouth as it might have been \nin a boys' school. But the story of what ensued can \nonly be told in Bradford's own words : — \n\n\" At lenght when the ship was ready to goe, it was ob- \nserved Liford was long in writing, and sente many letters, \nand could not forbear to communicate to his intimats such \nthings as made them laugh in their sleeves, and thought \nhe had done ther errand sufficiently. The Governor and \nsome other of his freinds knowing how things stood in Eng- \nland, and what hurt these things might doe, tooke a shalop \nand wente out with the ship a league or two to sea, and \ncaled for all Lifords and Oldums letters. Mr. William \nPeirce being master of the ship, (and knew well their evill \ndealing both in England and here,) afforded him all the \nassistance he could. He found above twenty of Lyfords \nletters, many of them larg, and full of slanders, and false \naccusations, tending not only to their prejudice, but to their \nruine and utter subversion. Most of the letters they let \npas, only tooke copys of them, but some of the most ma- \nteriall they sent true copyes of them, and kept the originalls, \nleast he should deney them, and that they might produce \nhis owne hand against him. . . . This ship went out \n\n\n186 NANTASKET AND THOMSON'S ISLAND. 1624 \n\ntowards evening, and in the night the Governor returned. \nThey were somwaht blanke at it, but after some weeks, \nwhen they heard nothing, they then were as briske as ever, \nthinking nothing had been knowne, but all was gone cur- \nrente, and that the Governor went but to dispatch his owne \nletters. The reason why the Governor and rest concealed \nthese things the longer, was to let things ripen, that they \nmight the better discover their intents and see who were \ntheir adherents. And the rather because amongst the rest \nthey found a letter of one of their confederats, in which \nwas writen that Mr. Oldame and Mr. Lyford intended a \nreformation in church and commone wealth ; and, as soone \nas the ship was gone, they intended to joyne togeather, and \nhave the sacrements, &c. \n\n\" For Oldame, few of his letters were found, (for he was \nso bad a scribe as his hand was scarce legible,) yet he was \nas deepe in the mischeefe as the other. And thinking they \nwere now strong enough, they begane to pick quarells at \nevery thing. Oldame being called to watch (according to \norder) refused to come, fell out with the Capten, caled him \nraskell, and beggerly raskell, and resisted him, drew his \nknife at him ; though he offered him no wrong, nor gave \nhim no ille termes, but with all fairnes required him to doe \nhis duty. The Governor hearing -j^he tumulte, sent to \nquiet it, but he ramped more like a furious beast then a \nman, and cald them all treatours, and rebells, and other \nsuch f oule language as I am ashp^itned to remember ; but \nafter he was clapt up a while, he came to him selfe, and \nwith some slight punishmente was let goe upon his behav- \niour for further censure. \n\n\" But to cutt things shorte, at length it grew to this esseue, \nthat Lyford with his complicies, without ever speaking one \nword either to the Governor, Church, or Elder, withdrewe \nthem selves and set up a publick meeting aparte, on the \nLord's Day ; with sundry such insolente cariages too long \nhere to relate, begining now publikly to acte what privatly \nthey had been long plotting.\" \n\n\n1624. \" UNSAVORIE SALTE:' 187 \n\nThis brought matters to a crisis, and a General \nCourt, which was but another name for a Plymouth \ntown-meeting, was summoned, before which Lyford \nand Oldham were arraigned on general charges of con- \nspiracy, civil and spiritual, with intent to disturb the \npeace. Lyford of course met these charges with a \nsweeping denial of their truth : — \n\n\" Then his letters were prodused and some of them read, \nat which he was struck mute. But Oldam begane to rage \nfuriously, because they had intercepted and opened his let- \nters, threatening them in very high language, and in a most \naudacious and mutinous maner stood up and caled upon \nthe people, saying, My maisters, wher is your harts ? now \nshew your courage, you have oft complained to me so and \nso ; now is the time, if you wiU doe any thing, I will stand \nby you, &c. \" \n\nThe appeal fell on deaf ears. Whether his sympa- \nthizers were, indeed, \" strucken with the injustice of \nthe thing,\" as Bradford says, or whether they wisely \nrealized that they were in a small minority, matters \nbut little ; but when called upon by Lyford, at a later \nstage of the proceedings, they one and all denied him. \nEven Billington, the confirmed reprobate of the settle- \nment, who at a later day committed a murder and was \nhanged for so doing on the first gallows ever erected \nin Massachusetts, — even this man, when appealed \nto, protested against being supposed to have anything \nto do with the faction of the accused. \n\n\"■ Then they delte with him aboute his dissembling with \nthem aboute the church, and that he professed to concur \nwith them in all things, and what a large confession he made \nat his admittance, and that he held not him selfe a minister \ntiU he had a new calling, &c. And yet now he contested \nagainst them, and drew a company aparte, and sequestred \n\n\n188 NANTASKET AND THOMSON'S ISLAND. 1624. \n\nhim selfe ; and would goe minister the sacrements (by his \nEpiscopall caling) without ever speaking a word unto them, \neither as magistrats or bretheren. In conclusion, he was \nfully convicted, and burst out into tears, and 'confest he \nfeared he was a reprobate, his sinns were so great that he \ndoubted God would not pardon them, he was unsavorie \nsalte, &c. ; and that he had so wronged them as he could \nnever make them amends, confessing all he had write against \nthem was false and nought, both for matter and manner.' \nAnd all this he did with as much fullnes as words and tears \ncould express.\" \n\nIn fact, while Oldham was something of a man, \nLyford was a canting, hypocritical priest. He was \nalso, as afterwards appeared, a wolf in sheep's cloth- \ning. Both of them were ordered to leave Plymouth ; \nbut, while Oldham was to go at once, Lyford had per- \nmission to remain six months ; and he did not fail to \ntake advantage of the opportunity thus afforded him \nto give the government of the little community such \nfurther trouble as he could. \n\nThe trial before the General Court would seem to \nhave taken place at midsummer. In August a vessel \nwas despatched to England, and by her Lyford sent \nanother letter \" in great secrecie, but the party in- \ntrusted with it gave it the Governor.\" This letter \nbeing \" brefer than the former \" the Governor inserted \nin his history. It is signed \" John Lyford, Exille : \" \nbut for the rest, though it finished the writer's chances \nof making his peace at Plymouth, it now reads like \na sufficiently moderate statement of discontent. Nev- \nertheless the odium tJieologicum had now been ex- \ncited, and, through all the following months, not only \nthe little community in New England, but the com- \npany of adventurers in London, was torn by dis- \n\n\n1624. \" OYLE TO THE FIRE:' 189 \n\nsension. Unfortunately for Lyford, the controversy \nbrought to light facts of a very unpleasant nature \naffecting his moral character, — facts which Bradford \ntook a grim satisfaction in spreading upon his pages \nwith cruel particularity. The preacher's domestic re- \nlations do not seem to have been happy or exemplary. \nNevertheless he and his family remained at Plymouth \nthrough the winter. \n\nAbout the 20th of March of the next year Oldham \nsuddenly reappeared, in company with some others. \nIt had been part of his sentence that he should not \nreturn without leave first obtained, but in his angry, \nself-willed way he paid no regard to this. \n\n\" And not only so, but suffered his unruly passions to \nrune beyond the Hmits of all reason and modestie ; in so \nmuch that some strangers which came with him were \nashamed of his outrage, and rebuked him ; but aU reprofes \nwere but as oyle to the fire, and made the flame of his col- \nler greater. He caled them all to nought, in this his mad \nfurie, and a hundred rebells and traytors, and I know not \nwhat. But in conclusion they committed him till he was \ntamer.\" \n\nThe finale of this whole episode is told even better \nin the words of Thomas Morton than in those of Gov- \nernor Bradford. It includes, furthermore, all that \nneeds to be said of Lyford, as well as his companion \nin persecution and exile. The angry and abusive Old- \nham, it will be remembered, had been \"clapt up a \nwhile,\" and then, with an injunction to \"goe and \nmende his manners,\" he was again dismissed into \nexile, as Morton says, — \n\n\" After a solemne invention in this manner : A lane of \nMusketiers was made, and hee compelled in scorne to passe \nalong betweene, and to receave a bob upon the bumme by \n\n\n190 NANTASKET AND THOMSON'S ISLAND. 1625-6. \n\nevery musketier, and then aboard a shallop, and so con- \nvayed to Wessaguscus shoare, and staid at Massachussets, \nto whom lohn Layford and some few more did resort, \nwhere Master Layford freely executed his office and \npreached every Lords day, and yet maintained his wife \nand children fonre or five, upon his industry there, with \nthe blessing of God and the plenty of the Land, without \nthe helpe of his auditory, in an honest and laudable man- \nner, till hee was wearied and made to leave the Country.\" \n\nThis happened at about the time of WoUaston's ar- \nrival ; and, not improbably during the same season, \nBlackstone and others of the Wessagusset settlement \nmoved across to the north side of Boston Bay. The \nexiles from Plymouth found Nantasket to be but an \n\" uncoth place,\" as Bradford subsequently termed it, \nand a year later a portion of them, Lyford being of \nthe number, were easily induced by the Dorchester \ncompany to move over to Cape Ann, and there sat \ndown, with others sent over for the purpose, where the \ntown of Gloucester now stands, then a place, as the \nhistorian Hubbard enigmatically describes it, \" more \nconvenient for those that belong to the tribe of Zebu- \nlun than for those that chose to dwell in the tents \nof Issachar.\" ^ Lyford was to minister spiritually to \nthe new settlement ; but it proved a short-lived affair, \nand subsequently he made his way with his family to \nmore congenial Virginia, where presently he died. \nOldham meanwhile, with some others, stayed at Nan- \ntasket, preferring to trade on his own account, inde- \npendent of all companies ; though later he found his \n\n^ \" Zebulun shall dwell at the haven of the sea ; and he shall be for \nan haven of ships ; and his border shall be unto Zidon. Issachar is \na strong ass couching down between two burdens : and he saw that \nrest was good, and the land that it was pleasant.\" Genesis xlix. \n13-15. \n\n\n1623-4. DAVID THOMSON. 191 \n\nway back to Plymouth, where he will presently be met \nwith again. In the mean time the settlement at Nan- \ntasket, such as it was, had become apparently perma- \nnent.i \n\nOf David Thomson, the first occupant of Squantum \nand the \" Farm-school island,\" not much, but suf- \nficient, is known. Morton speaks of him as a Scottish \ngentleman, both a traveller and a scholar, who had \nbeen quite observant of the habits of the Indians.^ \nBefore coming to America he had been in some way \nconnected with Gorges, if not indeed a dependent upon \nhim ; for his name repeatedly appears in the records of \nthe Council for New England, to which he apparently \nserved as an agent or messenger, representing it in \nmatters before the Privy Council. A patent covering \na considerable grant of land was issued to him by the \nCouncil in November, 1622 ; and it has already been \nmentioned that in the February preceding he had \nlearned something of the country from the sailor, \nWilliam Trevore, whose name Standish says he gave \nto the island upon which Thomson subsequently set- \ntled, and where he died. There is, indeed, some \nreason for believing that Thomson, availing himself \nof the information thus obtained from Trevore, either \nat this time or a little later on, secured from the Coun- \ncil for New England an additional patent covering \nSquantum and the adjacent islands.^ However this \nmay have been, Thomson seems to have come over to \nNew England early in 1623, bringing with him his \nwife, and a number of articled servants. He was as- \nsisted in his enterprise, which was of much the same \n\n1 Mem. Hist, of Boston, 79. \n\n2 New English Canaan (Prince Soe. ed.), 128, n. \n8 Supra, 58 ; Bradford, 208, n. \n\n\n192 NANTASKET AND THOMSON'S ISLAND. 1625-8. \n\ngeneral character as WoUaston's, by some Plymouth \nmerchants, and, according to Samuel Maverick,^ he \nestablished himself on a point of land at the entrance \nto Piscataqua River, now known as Little Harbor, \nwhere he \" built a Strong and Large House, enclosed \nit with a large and High Palizado and mounted Gunns, \nand being stored extraordinarily with shot and Am- \nmunition was a Terror to the Indians, who at that \ntime were insulting over the poor weake and impover- \nished Planters of Plymouth.\" It must have been very \nshortly after Thomson's party landed at the moutli \nof the Piscataqua, that Thomas Weston, wrecked, \ntumbled ashore and stripped by the savages to his \nshirt, found his way to them ; while, a little later on, \nin the spring of 1624, their plantation was visited by \nLevett and Robert Gorges.^ Apparently not fancy- \ning the region about the mouth of the Piscataqua, \nThomson, two years later, in 1626, moved down to \nBoston Bay, and there established himself on the island \nwhich has ever since been known by his name. There \nhe lived until his death, which occurred not later than \n1628. Johnson, in his \" Wonder-Working Provi- \ndence,\" asserted that Thomson, j^robably in 1627, had \naided Samuel Maverick in building a small fort on \nNoddle's Island, now East Boston, \" placing therein \nfour murtherers to protect him from the Indians,\" but \nother records show that this common place of refuge, \nand probable storehouse and trading-post, was built \nas early as 1625 and was at Winnisimmet, or Chelsea, \nand not on Noddle's Island. David Thomson ac- \ncordingly could not have aided in its construction.^ \n\n1 Proc. Mass. Hist. Soc. Series II. i. 234. \n\n2 Supra, 152; Winsor, Nar. and Crit. Hist, of Am. iii. 326, 366. \n^ Proc. Mass. Hist. Soc. Series II. i. 366-73. \n\n\n1G27. ''THE STRAGLING PLANTATIONS.\" 193 \n\nWhen Thomson died, he left a widow and infant son, \nand to this son the General Court of Massachusetts \nat a later day confirmed the title to Thomson's Island.^ \nMt. Wollaston lay just midway between Wessagus- \nset and Thomson's Island, and a mile or so in a \nstraight line from each, all three places being on the \nsame side of the bay and quite accessible to each \nother. Nantasket and the settlements on the north \nshore were, on the contrary, across the bay, and could \nat that time be easily reached by the others only by \nwater. Of the number of those dwelling in the sev- \neral plantations, except in the case of Merry-Mount, \nwe have no knowledge. At Merry-Mount there were \nseven, all men. At Wessagusset and at Hull both, \nthere were probably several families. Thomson, Mav- \nerick and Walford were married, and each had one \nor more children. How many servants they and the \nothers had, we have no means of knowing, but at the \noutside there may have been, in 1627, somewhere in \nthe neighborhood of fifty human beings, of all ages \nand both sexes, dwelling in seven separate communi- \nties, on the shores of Boston Bay.^ \n\n1 Infra, 342. \n\n2 The different authorities for the above dates, statements, etc., will \nbe found cited in the paper in Proc. Mass. Hist. Soc. June, 1878, \n194-206, and in Mem. Hist, p/ Boston, i. 63-86. \n\n\nCHAPTER XIII. \n\nMorton's arrest. \n\nHad \" mine host of Ma-re Mount,\" as Morton loved \nbest to style himself, been content with the sports of \nthe fieid, or with making observations on the habits of \nthe Indians and the products of the country, he might \nprobably have lived his life out at Passonagessit. \nCertainly such neighbors as he had in 1627 at the \nquiet Plymouth settlement forty miles away would \nhave been unlikely to disturb him, and the strag- \ngling planters more immediately about the bay would \nhave had neither the disposition nor the power to do \nso. He might even have erected a new May-pole \nwith every recurring spring, and danced about it with \nhis followers, white and red, to his heart's content ; \nand his scandalized compatriots would at most only \nhave remonstrated with him over his ungodly courses. \nBut these were only Morton's amusements ; and, while \nhe was in America for amusement, he was there also \nfor business. He was fully alive to the large profits \nwhich were to be made out of the fur trade, and in \ncarrying on that trade he was restrained by no scru- \nples. The furs, of course, came from the interior and \nfrom the Indians ; and in his dealings with the In- \ndians Morton adopted a policy natural to him, but \nwhich imperilled the very existence of the infant set- \ntlements along the coast. The two things the savages \nmost coveted were spirits and guns, — fire-water and \n\n\n1628. INDIAN HUNTSMEN. 195 \n\nfirearms. Beads and knives and hatchets and col- \nored cloth were very well at first, but these soon lost \ntheir attraction. Guns and rum never did. For \nthem they would at any time give whatever they pos- \nsessed. The trade in firearms had been strictly for- \nbidden by King James' proclamation issued at the \ninstance of the Council for New England in 1622, \nshortly after the granting of the great patent.^ The \ncompanion trade in spirits, less dangerous to the \nwhites but more destructive to the savages, though \nscandalous, was not under the ban of law ; but Mor- \nton cared little either for law or scandal, and the \nsavages flocked to him as to their natural ally. They \nhung about his plantation and acted as his guides ; \nand he probably treated them well ; for they certainly \nparticipated in his revels, though he emphatically de- \nnied that he was in the custom of selling them spirits. \nThey were also his huntsmen, and, though the charge \nwas vehemently urged against him, he nowhere denies \nthat he put guns into their hands and instructed them \nin the use of firearms. They proved apt pupils. Thor- \noughly familiar with the haunts and habits of every \ndescription of game, they were swift of foot and quick \nof sight, and, learning how to use their new weapons, \nthe Indians soon realized what effective arms they \nwere, and naturally became eager to possess them. \n\nThere had for j^ears been a petty trade in firearms \ncarried on by the traders and fishermen as they \ntrucked along the coast, but it had never taken any \nregular shape, nor, indeed, assumed formidable pro- \nportions. It would seem, also, to have been con- \nfined to the coast of Maine ; for in the whole record \nof the Plymouth settlement, from the time of the first \n\n1 Supra, 132. \n\n\n196 MORTON'S ARREST. May, \n\nskirmish with the Cape Cod savages in December, \n1620, to the Wessagusset killing, no gun was ever \nfound in an Indian's hand. The bow and the knife \nwere his only weapons, and he stood in mortal terror of \ngunpowder. It now seemed as if Morton was about \nto reduce this dangerous trade to a regular system. \nIn cheap exchange for his surplus weapons, there \npoured into the store room at Merry-Mount a profu- \nsion of furs of the bear and the otter, the marten and \nthe beaver, together with those choicer deer skins \nwhich the savages valued at three or four beaver skins, \nand the robes of the black woK, one of which was \nlooked upon as the equal of forty beavers, and as \nbeing a gift worthy of the acceptance of a j^rince. \n\nThe profit of the traffic in furs was as large then \nas it was nearly two centuries later, when upon it the \nfoundations of the Astor fortune were securely laid, \nand for a time trade at Merry-Mount was brisk. In- \ndeed, Morton says that in the course of five years one \nof his servants was thought to have accumulated, \nthrough his dealings in beaver skins, no less than a \nthousand pounds ; and in those days a thousand \npounds was the equivalent of more than ten thousand \nnow. This was doubtless an exaggeration ; yet it is \nevident that at ten shillings a pound in England, — \nwhich Morton names as the current price, while Brad- \nford says that he never knew it less than fourteen, — \nbeaver skins, which cost almost nothing in America, \nafforded a margin of profit sufficiently large to excite \nthe cupidity of any one. It certainly excited Mor- \nton's ; so he gave the Indians all the firearms he could \nspare, in unequal exchange for their furs, and then \ntook steps to replenish his stock from England against \nthe next season's trade, for, according to Bradford, \n\n\n1628. \"^ SCHOOLE OF ATHISME.\" 197 \n\nlie sent out for \" above a score \" of weapons. Thus \nMerry-Mount \" beganne to come forward,\" as Morton \nhimself expressed it, and its reputation, such as it \nwas, spread far up and down the coast. The masters \nof the trading vessels were also a lawless set, and \nnaturally the}'^ preferred to deal with men of their \nown kind, while the fleet w^s a considerable and rap- \nidly growing one, numbering already over fifty sail,^ \nmore and more of which probably every season looked \ninto Boston Bay for barter and refreshment. Things, \nindeed, went prosperously with the remnant of the \nvanished WoUaston's party, and those of them who had \nput their trust in Morton's promises doubtless felt for \na time that their faith was justified by the event. \nThey looked forward to a life of pleasant license, com- \nbined with an ever-increasing profit ; and the money \nthey easily made was recklessly spent. \n\nAs might naturally have been expected, Morton's \nneighbors watched his proceedings with a disfavor \nwhich soon quickened and deepened into alarm. At \nfirst they were merely scandalized at his antics, and \ndisposed to complain because his people, like Wes- \nton's before him, by their reckless way of dealing, de- \nmoralized trade. The savages were getting a more \ncorrect idea of the value of their wares. Nothing \nnow had any attraction in their eyes except firearms \nand ammunition ; but, in the strong language of Gov- \nernor Bradford, \" they became madd, as it were, after \n[these], and would not stick to ^ive any prise they \ncould attaine too for them.\" But the injury done \nin a trading point of view, great as this was, be- \ncame insignificant when compared with those other \nconsequences to which the presence on the coast of \n^ Young-, Chron. of Mass. 5, n. \n\n\n198 MORTON'S ARREST. May, \n\nsuch a place as Merry-Mount must inevitably lead. \nHere was a vast country without any pretence of a \npolice. It was the yearly resort of a most lawless \nclass, caring only for immediate gain. Once let such \na gathering place as Morton's become established, \nand it woidd indeed become a nest of unclean birds. \nDesperate characters, runaway servants, criminals \nwho did not dare to go back to civilization, would \nflock to it and there find a refuge, until, as Bradford \npointed out, the outnumbered settlers would \" stand \nin more fear of their lives and goods from this wicked \nand debauched crew than from the savages them- \nselves.\" \n\nThe danger was indeed imminent. It mattered little \nwhether Morton realized what he was doing and fore- \nsaw its consequences, or failed to realize it and fore- \nsaw nothing. The infant settlements had quite as \nmuch to dread now from the gathering scum of civili- \nzation as they ever had to dread from anything except \nsickness, fire and famine. They were to run the \ngauntlet of all dangers. Moreover, unlike the adven- \nturers at Mt. WoUaston, those composing these set- \ntlements had come to New England to stay. They \nhad brought with them their wives and children, and \nwere living at best in feeble communities, on the verge \nof an unknown wilderness far removed from human \nprotection. Comj^aratively speaking, the Plymouth \npeople were organized and numerous, for they counted \nas many as two hundred, dwelling together in some \ntwoscore houses within a stockade half a mile in cir- \ncumference. The others were but straggling planta- \ntions composed of solitary families, as in the cases of \nMaverick, Walford and Thomson, or even of single \nindividuals, as in Blackstone's case, with perhaps a \n\n\n1628. \" VJLANIE.\" 199 \n\nservant or two. How great the sense of common dan- \nger was, is apparent from the fact that from Ports- \nmouth to Boston it brought all together ; and when \nGovernor Bradford came to recording these events in \nhis history, he gave vent to an outburst of indigna- \ntion and alarm which is in curious contrast with the \nusual moderation of his language ; — \n\n\" 0 the horibhies of this vilanie I how many both Dutch \nand English have been latly slaine by those Indeans, thus \nfurnished ; and no remedie provided, nay, the evill more \nincreased, and the blood of their brethren sould for gaine, \nas is to be feared ; and in what danger all these colonies \nare in is too well known. Oh I that princes and parlements \nwould take some timly order to prevente this mischeefe, and \nat length to suppress it, by some exemplerie punishmente \nupon some of these gaine thirstie murderers, (for they de- \nserve no better title,) before their collonies in these parts be \nover throwne by these barbarous savages, thus armed with \ntheir owne weapons, by these evill instruments, and traytors \nto their neigbors and cuntrie.\" \n\nElsewhere, too, ne declared that at a later day the \nsavages were better supplied with firearms and ammu- \nnition than the Europeans themselves, and that some- \nhow they were provided with powder and shot when \nthe English were unable to get them, — a fact which \nhas often since been noted in the annals of Indian \nwarfare. Indeed, Bradford's language, just quoted, \nis but the commencement of a long refrain — a lamen- \ntation and an ancient tale of wrono^ — which has o:one \nup from the frontier for two centuries and a half. It \nis as clearly heard through the reports of the War \nDepartment of the last half of the nineteenth century \nas through the pages of the annalist of the first half \nof the seventeenth. \n\n\n200 MORTON'S ARREST. May, \n\nMorton's neiglibors had now become thoroughly \nalarmed, for Indians with guns in their hands were \nprowling through the woods. It was currently be- \nlieved that along the entire coast there were no less \nthan sixty weapons in their possession, and a single \ntrader was reported to have sold them during the \nseason of 1627 as many as twenty, with an hundred \nweight of powder. The savages were as yet in pur- \nsuit only of game and furs, but to men living in such \nabsolute solitude as those early planters, even the poor \nsurvivors of the Massachusetts tribe were a cause for \napprehension ; while behind the imjDcnetrable veil of \nthe forest were the dreaded Narragansetts. Rumors of \nwhat they were intending were always in the air. The \nIndian may be cowed, but he does not change his na- \nture, and it was now five years since Wituwamat's \nghastly head had been perched on the top of the \nPlymouth block-house. The lesson taught at Wessa- \ngusset might be forgotten ; the wrong inflicted there \nmight- yet be avenged. \n\nThe situation grew daily more precarious, and the \ninstinct of self-preservation told the planters plainly \nenough that such a condition of affairs could not long \ncontinue ; either illicit trade must be checked, or the \nstraggling settlers must leave the country. But the \ncourse to be pursued to remedy the evil was not \nequally clear, for, if it came to a trial of strength, the \nmaster of Merry -Mount, even without his Indian \nallies, was more than a match for all the settlers about \nBoston Bay combined. His retainers as yet were few ; \nbut the place was young, and as its existence became \nknown it would increase both in numbers and in ill- \nrepute, so that before long it might be beyond the \npower even of the Plymouth colony to abate the grow- \n\n\n1628. ''SCURILLOUS TERMESr 201 \n\niiigf nuisance. Under these .circumstances their fears \ncompelled the heads of the various plantations to ar- \nrange a meeting at which they might take counsel for \nthe common safety. This meeting seems to have taken \nplace in the early spring of 1628, the Hiltons from \nDover, and Conant, Balch and Palfrey from Salem, \nas well as those seated about Boston Bay, either \nparticipating in it, or joining in the action decided \nupon. It was determined to ask the comparatively \npowerful Plymouth settlement to take the matter in \nhand, and letters setting forth the facts in the case, \nand the sense of common danger, were accordingly \nwritten and taken to Plymouth. After full considera- \ntion the magistrates there made up their minds to do \nas they were desired, and so a joint communication \nwas drawn up and forwarded to Morton by a messen- \nger, through whom he was asked to return his reply. \nThis document, Bradford says, was friendly and neigh- \nborly in tone ; but in it Morton was admonished to \nforbear his evil practices. The result of the inter- \nview which followed would seem to have been any- \nthing but satisfactory to the remonstrants, for Mor- \nton undertook to carry things with a high hand ; \nindeed, he sent back word to the Plymouth magistrates \nthat they were meddling in matters which did not con- \ncern them, that they had no jurisdiction over him or \nhis plantation, and that he proposed to trade with the \nIndians in any way he saw fit. With this reply, \nwhich probably was not unlooked for, the discomfited \nmessenger returned home. \n\nThe course now pursued by the Plymouth people \nwas highly characteristic and strictly Scriptural : — \n\n\" They sente to him a second time, and bad him be better \nadvised, and more temperate in his termes, for the countrie \n\n\n202 MORTON'S ARREST. May, \n\ncould not l)eare the injure- he did; it was against their \ncoinone saftie, and against the king's proclamation. He \nanswered in high terms as before, and that the king's proc- \nlamation was no law ; demanding what penaltie was upon \nit. It was answered, more then he could bear, his majesties \ndispleasure. But insolently he persisted, and said the king \nwas dead and his displeasure with him, and many the like \nthings ; and threatened withall that if any came to molest \nhim, let them looke to themselves, for he would prepare for \nthem.\" \n\nThis downright defiance, also, the master of Merry- \nMount seems to have emphasized by a liberal use of \nexpletives (\" oaths and other contumelies \"), which \nwere probably far more frequently heard in the neigh- \nborhood of his May-pole than under the shadow of \nthe Plymouth meeting-house. \n\nHowever it may have been with the morality of the \ntransactions complained of, Morton, in the position he \ntook, showed himself better versed than his admon- \nishers in the law of England. On the first point \nmade by him he Avas clearly right. The proclamation \nof 1622 was not law. That had been settled fifteen \nyears before by the Court of King's Bench, under the \nlead of Chief Justice Coke ; and now, to enforce King \nJames' proclamation of 1622 against Morton, the \nPlymouth magistrates must have had recourse to King \nCharles' Star Chamber, — the last tribunal on earth \nfor them, of all men, to appeal to, though there an \nillegal penalty, for the violation of a proclamation \nwhich was not law, could in certain cases at that time \nhave been exacted. As regards his second point, that \nthe King's proclamation died with him, though Hume \nin his history asserts that this diiference between stat- \nutes and proclamations did exist, — the former being \n\n\n1628. TRAPPED! 203 \n\nperpetual, and the latter expiring with the sovereign \nwho emitted them, — yet Lord Campbell says that he \nwas unable to find a trace of such a distinction any- \nwhere in the books. ^ On this point, therefore, the \nlaw of Thomas Morton was probably as bad as that \nof David Hume. \n\nBut, whether Morton's views as to the legality of \nKing James' proclamation were sound or otherwise, \nwas not then to be debated. The question with the \nneighboring settlers was one of self-preservation, and \nthe Plymouth magistrates had now gone too far to \nhesitate about going* further. If they did hesitate, \nthere was plainly an end to all order in New England, \nfor, conscious that he had browbeaten them, Morton's \ninsolence would in future have known no bounds. \nThey decided, therefore, to send Miles Standish to \nBoston Bay with a sufficient force to insure Morton's \nsummary arrest. \n\nThis conclusion was reached probably in May, \n1628. Acting, it would seem, on information obtained \nfrom Morton's neighbors and in conjunction with \nthem, Standish, towards the end of the month, set out \nfor Boston Bay, taking eight men with him. He \nfound Morton at Wessagusset, to which place he was \nin the habit of resorting, as he himself expressed it, \n\" to have the benefit of company,\" though, on the \npresent occasion, it would seem more than probable \nhe had been beguiled there under some pretence, in \norder to make surer his arrest. In any event, there \nStandish found and secured him. As soon as Morton \nrealized that he was trapped, his whole tone and de- \nmeanor seem to have undergone a surprising change, \n\n1 Campbell, Chief Justices, i. 273-5 (London, 18-19) ; New English \nCanaan (Prince Soc. ed.), 26-7. \n\n\n204 MORTON'S ARREST. June, \n\nand from being profane and defiant he became sud- \ndenly virtuous and astonished, innocently inquiring \nas to the reason of his being subjected to such vio- \nlence. In reply he was reminded of the criminal acts \nto which his attention had twice been called ; where- \nupon he at once, with sublime impudence, wished to \nknow who was the author of the charges against him. \nHis custodians declining to give him the desired in- \nformation, Morton stood upon his rights as an English- \nman, and, peremptorily refusing to answer the charges, \ndemanded that he should forthwith be set at liberty. \nNaturally Standish did not take this view of the case, \nand prepared to remove the prisoner early the next \nmorning to Plymouth, while measures were taken to \nsecure him over night. To this end six men were, as \nMorton asserts, put on guard over him, — one of \nthem, the better to prevent any chance of escape, lying \non the bed by his side. According to the prisoner's \naccount of what followed, his captors, thoroughly \nelated with the successful execution of their plan, in- \ndulged during the evening in some grim festivities \nwith their Wessagusset hosts, festivities in which Mor- \nton, notwithstanding his general disjiosition that way, \nfelt no heart to participate. The sleep of those spe- \ncially entrusted with the safe-keeping of the prisoner \nwas in consequence of the soundest ; so that pres- \nently the wakeful Morton contrived to slip quietly off \nthe bed, and succeeded in passing two doors without \nbeing detected ; but, as he went out, the last or outer \ndoor shut so violently as to awaken his guard. What \nis then supposed to have ensued can be adequately \ndescribed only in \" mine host's \" own language : — \n\n\"The word which was given with an alarme, was, — d, \nhe 's gon ! — he 's gou ! — what shell wee doe, he 's gon ! — \n\n\n1628. THE ESCAPE. 205 \n\nthe rest (lialfe a sleepe) start up in a maze, and, like rames, \nran tlieire heads one at another full butt in the darke, \nTheir grand leader, Captaine Shrimp, tooke on most furi- \nously, and tore his clothes for anger to see the empty nest \nand their bird gone. The rest were eager to have torne \ntheire haire from theire heads ; but it was so short, that it \nwould give them no hold.\" \n\nMorton was once more at liberty. It was in the \ndead of night and a storm was gathering, so he imme- \ndiately vanished in the darkness. It was useless to \ntry to follow him. In a direct line he was but a mile \nor two away from Mt. Wollaston, but the Monatoquit \nran between him and it. He had no means of cross- \ning the river, and was, therefore, compelled to take \nthe longer way about, following the streamlet up until \nhe came to a fording-place, which increased the dis- \ntance he had to go to about eight miles. But, know- \ning the country well, he easily found his way, being, \nmoreover, aided in so doing by the bursting of a thun- \nder-storm, the incessant lightning of which revealed \nto him the path. He hurried along, resolved on forci- \nble resistance. \n\nAs soon as he reached his house he set actively to \nwork making preparations for defence. There was, \nindeed, no time to be lost. Standish and his party \nwould, with the early day, be in search of him ; and \nthey had but to cross the Monatoquit, or round a \nheadland in the bay, and a short walk across the open \nupland would bring them to his door. At this time \nMorton's company consisted, all told, of seven men, \nbut five of these were then away from home, — prob- \nably inland looking for furs. This was fortunate for \nStandish, though it would seem more than likely that \nhe was well aware of the fact, and had timed his \n\n\n206 MORTON'S ARREST. June, \n\ncoming accordingly. The available force at Merry- \nMount was thus reduced to three, — Morton and two \nothers. Nothing daunted by this disparity of num- \nbers, these three got ready such guns as they had on \nhand, four in all, with an ample supply of powder \nand ball. Having then made fast the doors, they pro- \nceeded to defy the enemy over their cups. \n\nThey had not long to wait, for a friendly savage \nsoon made his appearance with tidings that the pur- \nsuers had left Wessagusset and were close at hand. \nSoon they came in sight, and, in contemptuous disre- \ngard of any preparations which might have been made \nto resist them, walked defiantly up to the door of the \nfortified house, — or, as Morton described it, \" they \ncame within danger like a flock of wild geese ; [or] \nas if they had been tailed one to another, as colts to \nbe sold at a fair.\" None the less this display of cool- \nness evidently had its effect, for, of the garrison of \nthree, one was frightened, while another had, in his \nefforts to keep up his courage, become hopelessly and \nhelj^lessly drunk. Morton's means of defence were, \ntherefore, now reduced to his own unaided strength ; \nbut still he did his best to keep up appearances, and \nmet Standish's call to surrender with a scoffing defi- \nance, until the latter proceeded to break in the door ; \nwhereupon Morton sallied bravely out, musket in \nhand, followed hard by his single staggering retainer, \nand even made as if he would fire on the Plymouth \ncaptain. The struggle that ensued was brief and \nludicrous, for, pushing aside the carbine, Standish \nseized Morton, w^ho, as his weapon w^as subsequently \nfound to be charged half-way to the muzzle, was \nhimself probably the worse for the healths which he \nsays he had just drunk with his two followers \" in \n\n\n1628. ^'THIS OUTRAGIOUS RIOTJ' 207 \n\ngood rosa so^/.s,\" and consequently little capable of \nresistance. While this was going on, Morton's reel- \ning comrade completed his master's overthrow by \nrunning '' his owne nose upon the pointe of a sword \nthat one held before him as he entred the house ; \" \nbut even he sustained no great injury, as Bradford \ngoes on to say that ''he lost but a litle of his hott \nblood.\" The result of \"this outragious riot,\" as Mor- \nton termed it, was that the master of Ma-re Mount \nagain became a prisoner, and this time with small \nprospect of escape. \n\nMorton was at once removed to Plymouth, where a \ncouncil was held to decide on the disposition to be \nmade of him. According to the prisoner's own ac- \ncount, a part of the magistrates were in favor of exe- \ncuting him out of hand, and so making an end of \nthe matter. They were not disposed, by sending him \nto England to answer for his misdemeanors, to run \nthe risk of having him there make trouble for them. \nStandish, Morton asserts, was of this mind, and, indeed, \nwas so enrao^ed at the suo:o:estion of more moderate \ntreatment that he threatened to kill the prisoner with \nhis own hand sooner than have him sent away ; but the \nmilder counsels of the others prevailed. It was early \nJune, and no vessel was then expected to sail from \nPlymouth ; so, either because it was not convenient \nto keep their prisoner among them there, or because \nan outward-bound vessel was more likely to be found \nat the fishing stations, the prisoner was taken to the \nIsles of Shoals, from whence, a month later, a chance \nwas found of sendino^ him to Enj^land. He went in \ncharge of John Oldham, who a year or two before \nhad made his peace with Plymouth, and since been \nat '• libertie to goe and come, and converse with them \n\n\n208 MORTON'S ARREST, 1628. \n\nat his pleasure,\" and who now was commissioned to \nrepresent the associated planters in this matter. Old- \nham was sent at the common charge, and supplied \nwith two letters ; one to the Council for New Eng- \nland, signed by some of the principal men of each \nplantation, the other from the Plymouth magistrates \nto Sir Ferdinando Gorges. These letters were dated \nthe 9th of June, and in them Morton's offences were \nclearly set forth, — especially the traffic in firearms, \nand his maintaining a house which was a receptacle \nof loose persons \"living without all fear of God or \ncommon honesty ; some of them abusing the Indian \nwomen most filthily, as it is notorious.\" \n\n\nCHAPTER XIV. \n\nBOSTON FOUNDED. \n\nEighteen montlis passed away before Thomas \nMorton made his way back again to Merry-Mount, \nand he then found such few of his followers as still \nremained about the place sobered and discouraged. \nMa-re Mount had in the intervening time become \nMount Dagon, and the May-pole was level with the \nground. Between the early summer of 1628 and the \nautumn of 1629 certain events had taken place on the \nshores of Massachusetts Bay, small in themselves but \nbig with remote results. \n\nOn the 6th of September, just three months after \nMiles Standish's energetic abatement of the Merry- \nMount nuisance, and probably about the time that \nOldham, having Morton in charge, reached England, \nJohn Endicott landed at Salem. The patent under \nwhich he claimed a title to the soil had been issued by \nthe Council for New P^ngland, and bore date March \n19, 1628, covering a large portion of the territory ad- \njacent to Boston Bay ; and the party he brought with \nhim to occuj)y the grant was the advance guard of a \nmigration. The whole coast from St. Croix to Buz- \nzard's Bay, covered by the great patent of 1620, had, \nit will be remembered, been divided in severalty at \nthe royal Greenwich drawing of Sunday the 29th of \nJune, five years before ; and the particular portion \nof it now again granted away had fallen to the lots of \n\n\n210 BOSTON FOUNDED. 1628. \n\nthe Earl of Warwick, Lord Gorges and others. But, \nas the Greenwich drawling was merely one of Gorges' \nschemes for infusing new life into his project, and put- \nting some money into the treasury of the Council, \nwhen it failed to accomplish those ends it was quietly \ndropped from memory. No further mention of it was \nmade, and, except in the case of Lord Sheffield, nothing \nseems ever to have been done to confirm the grants \nwhich it was intended should result from the drawing ; \nand, as no patents were ever issued, there were none to \nsurrender. The scheme, like so many others of Sir \nFerdinando before and after, had come to nothing. \n\nMeanwhile the request for a grant to Endicott and \nhis associates now reached Gorges through an influ- \nential channel, — \" the thrice-honored Lord of War- \nwick.\" Sir Ferdinando was at Plymouth when the \nEarl's missive came to him ; but he readily assented to \nthe request contained in it, and, apparently without \nfurther formalities, a patent was issued under the seal \nof the Council. It may have been owing to the fact \nthat this patent was issued at the request of the Earl \nof Warwick that it was made to cover the region \nagainst which the name of that nobleman was inscribed \non Alexander's map, after the Greenwich drawing, \nfor the patent under which Endicott claimed covered \ngenerally the territory between the Merrimack and the \nCharles rivers, though its precise bounds could not \npossibly be fixed. They extended \"from the Atlan- \ntick and Westerne Sea and Ocean on the East Parte, \nto the South Sea on the Weste Parte,\" and covered \neverything within the space of three English miles \nto the northward of the Merrimack, and to the south- \nward of the Charles, \" or of any or everie parte \" of \neither of those streams ; also everything lying within \n\n\n1628. \"MOUNTE-DAGON:' 211 \n\nthe space of three miles to the southward of the south- \nernmost part of Massachusetts, meaning Boston, Bay. \nWhatever, therefore, might be exckided from it, it was \nclear that the whole region in which Wessagusset, \nMount Wollaston, Thomson's Island and Shawmut \nwere situated, was included in it. \n\nMorton's establishment was thus brought clearly \nwithin the jurisdiction of Endicott. The existence \nand character of the Wollaston trading-post must have \nbeen known in England, and it is not at all improbable \nthat its prompt suppression had been there decided \nupon ; but, whether this was so or not, John Endi- \ncott, that typical Puritan magistrate, must certainly \nhave learned, as soon as he landed at Naumkeag, of \nthe decisive action taken by the Plymouth people \nthree months before. That action doubtless, also, \ncommended itself to him, though probably he re- \ngretted that more condign punishment had not been \nmeted out to the evil-doer ; nor did he delay taking \nsuch steps as were still in his power to make good \nthis shortcoming. Accompanied by a small party he \ncrossed the bay, and, making his appearance among \nMorton's terrified followers, he hewed down the May- \npole, rebuked them sternly for their profaneness, and \n\" admonished them to looke ther should be better \nwalking. So they now, or others, changed the name \nof their place againe, and called it Mounte-Dagon,\" \nafter that sea-idol of the Philistines, at whose mem- \norable feast at Gaza \n\n\" The morning trumpets festival proclaim'd \nThrough each high street.\" \n\nAfter this visit of Endicott's no mention whatever is \nfound of those settled about Boston Harbor until the \nnext summer, though, in the mean time, events were \n\n\n212 BOSTON FOUNDED. 1628-9. \n\ntaking place in England calcnlated to hasten forward \nthe long; delayed occupation of those parts. John \nOldham, having Thomas Morton in his custody, had \nlanded at Plymouth during the later summer or early \nautumn of 1628, having passed the outward-bound \nEndicott in mid-ocean. As Oldham bore letters to \nGorges, there can be no question that, landing at \nPlymouth, he there met Sir Ferdinando at once ; and \nit is also probable that Oldham, who was an enterpris- \ning man, had come out to England with some scheme \nof his own for obtaining a patent from the Council for \nNew England, and establishing a trading connection. \nRobert Gorges was then dead, and the title to his \ngrant on the northeast side of Massachusetts Bay had \npassed to his brother Johu.^ So the result of Oldham's \ninterviews with Sir Ferdinando and John Gorges was \nthat the latter conveyed to him the whole district be- \ntween the Charles and the Saugus rivers, for a dis- \ntance, into the interior, of five miles on the former and \nthree on the latter. This deed not improbably may \nhave borne the same date, January 10, 1629, as a sim- \nilar deed of a yet larger tract, out of the same grant, \nwhich John Gorges executed to Sir William Brereton. \nThe lands thus conveyed were distinctly within the \nlimits covered by the grant of the Council to Endi- \ncott and his associates. Sir Ferdinando subsequently \nclaimed that the later grant was made with a distinct \nreservation on his part of all rights conveyed to his \nson Robert under the earlier one, nor does there seem \nto be any reason to doubt that such was the inten- \ntion ; but the business of the Council for New Eng- \nland was always transacted in a careless, slipshod way. \nGrants were made, equal in extent to half-a-dozeu \n\n1 Mass. Hist. Soc. Lowell Institute Lectures (1869), 154. \n\n\n1629. THE MASSACHUSETTS CHARTER. 213 \n\nEnglish counties, and patents, of which no copies \nseem to have been kept, issued for them.^ To these \ngrants, accordingly, no great attention was paid. \nNevertheless, the formal conveyance to John Oldham \nby John Gorges of a very considerable tract, in the \nheart of the Massachusetts Bay concession, at once \nraised a serious question of title. \n\nThe ideas and projects of those associated with En- \ndicott had now become much enlarged. Less active- \nminded and scheming than Gorges, they represented \nwhat he did not, — some property, and a large num- \nber of men and women bound together by a strong \ncommon feeling, and ready to leave their country, not \nas adventurers temporarily absenting themselves, but \nnever to come back to it. The leaders of this move- \nment had gone on from step to step, their vision \nwidening as they went. They, as well as the Council \nfor New England, had friends at court ; and now, see- \ning how doubtful a title they held under the grant of \nthe Council, — confronted already by claimants under \nearlier gi-ants, — they went directly to the throne. A \nroyal confirmation of their patent was solicited, and, \nthrough the intervention of Lord Dorchester, obtained. \nOn the 4th of March, 1629, King Charles' charter of \nthe colony of Massachusetts Bay passed the seals. \n\nThis whole proceeding could not but have been ex- \ntremely offensive to Gorges. Apart from any ques- \ntion affecting his son's title to territory now in dis- \npute, the granting of the charter by the crown seemed \nto cast a doubt on the validity of the grant by the \nCouncil for New England, if it did not supersede its \n\n1 For a list of the grants made, or alleg-ed to have been made, by \nthe Council, see Palfrey, i. 397 ; and Dr. Haven's history of these \ngrants already referred to, in Mass. Hist. Soc. Lowell Inst. Lectures. \n\n\n214 BOSTON FOUNDED. 1629. \n\nauthority. It must besides have mortified the Gov- \nernor of Plymouth greatly to find himself outgener- \nalled at court, for there, at least, he had been accus- \ntomed to make things take the shape he wanted. In \nany case, from that time forward, however he might \ndissemble and by speech or letter pretend to seek its \nwelfare, the infant colony had to count Sir Ferdinando \nas its most persistent and, the result soon showed, its \nmost dangerous enemy, — an enemy in whose cunning \nhands king, primate and attorney-general in turn be- \ncame puppets. Fortunately for Massachusetts, while \nGorges was poor. King Charles was needy. \n\nOldham, probably now acting in collusion with \nGorges, entered into active negotiations with the rep- \nresentatives of the Massachusetts company, and en- \ndeavored to secure a position of trust and confidence \nin their service. Cradock and his associates were at \nfirst disposed to listen to him ; but, whether Oldham \nhimself believed in what he said or not, — though, \njudging by the character of the man, it is altogether \nprobable he did, — he decidedly overshot his mark. \nHe promised too much. He was not now dealing \nwith the sanguine, speculative Gorges, but with a \ncompany of slow, hard-headed men of affairs ; and \na promise of a threefold return on their venture, in as \nmany years, only shook faith in the maker of such a \npromise. All that Oldham asked was that the man- \nagement of the new company's trade in furs should be \nleft in his hands : were this but done he wanted no pay \nfor himself, if only he might have the surplus made \nover a profit of three hundred per cent, in the three \nyears ; and he who held out these glowing hopes was \nnot only an experienced American planter, as the first \nsettlers were called, but he had a title hardly less good \n\n\n1629. \".4 MAD JACK.\" 215 \n\nthan the company's own to a considerable portion of \nits grant. Governor Cradock and his assistants seem, \ntherefore, to have been so really anxious to reach an \nunderstanding with Oldham that continual meetings \ntook place, and the matter was under discussion all \nthrough the spring months of 1629. Taking his stand \napparently on the grant from John Gorges, Oldham \ntried to compel the company either to entrust to him \nthe exclusive management of its trading affairs, or else \nto leave him at complete liberty to trade as he saw fit \nwithin the limits conveyed to him by Gorges, — and \nthis, not only on his own account, but in company with \nany one else he chose. In fact, Oldham asserted his \npractical independence of the Massachusetts company. \nBy degrees, as the defects of temper and judgment, \nwhich Oldham had already manifested at Plymouth, \nshowed themselves again, Cradock, Venn and the rest \ngot to know the kind of man with whom they had to \ndeal. Enterprising as a trader, and by temperament \ndaring, John Oldham belonged to a type still common \nenough among the English and in New England, — a \ntype in which the characteristic good qualities of the \nrace are spoiled by being developed in excess. A \nhuman bull-dog, or, as Morton well described him, \" a \nmad Jack in his mood,\" he was obstinate, factious and \nviolent. Once he had made up his mind, nothing \ncould change him ; he must either have his way or \nfight. The fact that the majority, as during the Ly- \nford troubles at Plymouth, were all the other w^ay, \nonly served to make him more headstrong, and, if need \nbe, more outrageous. Standing on what he considered \nhis rights, he recognized on the other side force only, \n— nor that, even, until his every effort at resistance \nhad been put down. So now, in dealing with a com- \n\n\n216 BOSTON FOUNDED. April, \n\nmittee of the Massachusetts company, Oldham showed \nhimself wholly impracticable. Nothing could be done \nwith him. The trade in beaver skins was the most \nimmediately valuable privilege which the company \npossessed, and it proposed to retain that trade in its \nown hands ; indeed, the profits to be derived from it \nhad already been set aside as a fund, out of which \nthe common defence and public worship were to be \nprovided for.^ Oldham's proposition was, therefore, \nout of the question. \n\nStill it was not until April that all hopes of reach- \ning an understanding were abandoned. Then, when \ncommittee after committee had tried its hand and \nfailed to make the smallest progress, the matter was \nat last referred to coimsel, and the company was ad- \nvised to treat the Robert Gorges grant as void in law, \non the ground that it was not sufficiently definite ; \nand in pursuance of this advice, it was decided to \nhave nothing more to say to Oldham, leaving him to \ntake his own course. But the great value of posses- \nsion in all disputes about title was as well understood \nthen as now, and so Cradock, under instructions, \nforthwith wrote out to Endicott, informing him of the \ncourse that had been decided on, and that Oldham \nwas himself at that very time trying to fit out a vessel \nin which he proposed to go over and take independent \npossession of his claim. Endicott was then instructed, \nas the deputy of the company on the spot, to deal \nsummarily with the interlopers if they made their ap- \npearance ; but, above all, he was enjoined to send at \nonce a strong party of forty or fifty persons to effect \nan actual occupation of the disputed territory. \n\nThese instructions bore date the 17th of April, \n\n^ Young, Chron. of Mass. 148- \n\n\n1629. MISHA WUM. 217 \n\n1629. Three vessels were then lying in the Thames, \nload ins: with emio'rants and their stores destined for \nNew EDO-land. As soon as the instructions were \n\no \n\nready, one of these, the George, was hurried away in \nadvance of the rest, having \" special and urgent cause \nof hastening her passage.\" Before negotiations were \nopenly broken off, and Oldham given to understand \nthat the company would have nothing more to do with \nhim, the George had been already a month on her \nway. Oldham had been outwitted, and, for the time \nat least, he was powerless. \n\nThe George reached Salem on the 20th of June, \nand Endicott acted promptly. Some of those who \ncame over at this time had emigrated at their own \nexpense, and among these were three brothers named \nSprague, the sons, it is said, of a Dorsetshire fuller. \nInstead of settling at Salem, the Spragues and a few \nothers, acting as it may be supposed with something \nmore than the \" joint consent and approbation \" of \nEndicott, started off through the woods and made their \nway towards the region which five months before had \nbeen conveyed by John Gorges to Oldham. After \ngoing about twelve miles, they halted at a spot on the \nnorth side of the Charles, where they found a num- \nber of Indians belonging to that tribe, of which Stan- \ndish and his party had there met some women in the \nvisit of seven years before.^ The sachem of these \nIndians, afterwards known by the English as Sagar- \nmore John, was a son of the Nanepashemet whose \ngrave had then been visited. With Sagamore John's \nwilling consent, the newcomers established themselves \non a hill in the place called Mishawum, \" where they \nfound but one English palisadoed and thatched house, \nwherein lived Thomas Walford, a smith.\" \n\n^ Supra, 18. \n\n\n218 BOSTON FOUNDED. 1629. \n\nThe Spragiies were soon followed b}^ another and \nlarger party from Salem, under the charge of Thomas \nGraves, the engineer of the company, especially \" en- \ntertained \" by it '' to survey and set forth lands,\" and \n\" to fortify and build a town.\" Evidently Endicott \nhad wasted no time, for Graves could not have reached \nSalem before the 20th of June ; and yet on the 24th \nof that month, or the 4th of July according to the \ncalendar now in use, he and his party were at the \nmouth of the Mystic, where, in the course of the sum- \nmer, a place was laid out under his direction, upon a \nplan approved by Endicott, and a large house built, \nwhich place was named Charlestown, and was intended \nto be the seat of government of the Massachusetts \nBay.^ The single great house, now put up by the ser- \nvants of the company to accommodate such as were \nthen expected shortly to come over, afterwards became \nthe Charlestown meeting-house. In the autumn of \n1629 about one hundred persons are supposed to have \nbeen living in the neighborhood of it. \n\nThe settlement of Charlestown was, therefore, no \naccident. Decided upon in England, it was intended \nto forestall a question of title, so far as such a ques- \ntion could be forestalled through actual occupation. \nIt was a step taken, also, in pursuance of a policy \nwhich threatened to affect seriously the situation of \nthe old planters about the bay, — those who had then \nbeen living there six years, and might be considered \nas securely established. The Massachusetts Bay com- \npany professed itself eager to deal fairly with these \nmen ; but it had its own rules and regulations, not \nlacking in stringency, while Endicott, a man of dom- \nineering temper, who stood ready at any time to have \n\n1 Mem Hist, of Boston, i. 385. \n\n\n1G29. TOBACCO GROWING. 219 \n\nrecourse to the j^illory and the whipping-post, was in- \nstructed to enforce those rules. They related ex- \npressly to the trade in beaver and the cultivation of \ntobacco. So far as the trade in furs was concerned, \nthere can be no question that it was the only really \nprofitable trade open to the old planters. They were \nall engaged in it. Indeed, to such an extent were \nthey engaged in it that in Massachusetts beaver skins \nwere used as currency, just as tobacco was used in \nVirginia. Of this trade, it has been stated already the \nnew colony proposed to make a government monopoly, \nand, in the language of the letter of instructions writ- \nten to Endicott by Cradock, on behalf of himself and \nthe Assistants, they would not willingly \" permit any \nto appropriate that to their own private lucre which \nwe, in our religious intentions, have dedicated to the \ncommon charge of building houses for God's worship, \nand forts to defend such as shall come thither to in- \nhabit.\" \n\nSo, also, as respects tobacco. Strange as it now \nseems, those who first cultivated the soil on the shores \nof Boston Bay seem to have looked upon the grow- \ning of tobacco as the most j^rofitable use to which \nthey could put their labor. The promoters of the \nnew company, on the other hand, appear to have \nshared, to the full extent, in King James' horror of \nthat weed, and some of the principal among them \neven went so far as to declare themselves absolutely \nunwilling to have any hand in the undertaking if it \nwas intended to permit tobacco to be grown. They \napparently looked upon it then much as opium is \nlooked upon now. When, therefore, the old planters \nearnestly petitioned that they might not be cut off \nfrom what they considered their most profitable crop, \n\n\n220 BOSTON FOUNDED. 1629. \n\nthe utmost concession they could get was that they \nmight go on cultivating it for the present, in such man- \nner and under such restrictions as Endicott and his \ncouncil should think fitting, \" having an especial care, \nwith as much conveniency as may be, utterly to sup- \npress the planting of it, except for mere necessity.\" \n\nUnder these circumstances, feeling the iron hand of \nPuritan authority at the very outset restricting, where \nit did not utterly suppress, the two branches of indus- \ntry which they had always enjoyed, and which alone \nmade life possible in the wilderness they had subdued \nand during years had occupied, — feeling this, and \nstrongly suspecting that the title to the very land they \ntilled might next be called in question, it was small \nmatter for wonder that the old planters looked with \njealous eyes on their new neighbors. Indeed, certain \nof these ancient settlers did not hesitate in their ap- \nprehension to speak of themselves as slaves ; ^ and, as \nthe sequel showed, their fears, so far as some of them \nwere concerned, did not prove to be groundless. Es- \npecially was this true of Thomas Walford. \n\nWhile the tract granted to John Gorges was being \noccupied and Charlestown laid out in America, John \nOldham, left far behind in the race for actual posses- \nsion, seems to have fretted the time away in London. \nHe was probably casting about in the effort to organ- \nize, with such aid as the Gorges family could give \nhim, an expedition of his own ; but, if this was the \ncase, he was doomed to disappointment. The means \nwith which to equip a vessel evidently were not forth- \ncoming, and gradually the idea of an expedition, coun- \nter to that of the Massachusetts company, had to be \n\n^ Young, Chron. of Mass. 145 ; Proc. Mass. Hist. Soc. Series II. i. \n239-40. \n\n\n1629. OLDHAM <^ FOOLD^ 221 \n\nabandoned ; but it was not until the next year that \nOldham found his way back to America. He then \nseems to have accepted the situation, settling down at \nWatertown as one of the freemen of the colony, and \nin quiet subordination to its authority. \n\nMeanwhile Thomas Morton was lost sight of. \nBradford says that Morton \" foold \" Oldham and es- \ncaped, for aught they could learn at Plymouth, with- \nout so much as a rebuke even. This is very possible ; \nfor it would seem not at all unlikely that when he \nfound himself, after his arrival at Plymouth, involved \nin negotiations with both John Gorges and the Mas- \nsachusetts Bay company, Oldham had little time or \nthought to give to Morton, though Morton himself \ntells the story differently. According to his account \nthe agent of the Plymouth people, whether Oldham \nor another, did his best and \" used no little diligence \" \nto have the deported prisoner proceeded against. \nLawyers were consulted, and, as Morton expresses it, \n\"a heape of gold\" was laid before them; but they \ncould find nothing to take hold of against him. Gor- \nges undoubtedly could have brought any vendor to \nIndians of guns and ammunition to severe reckoning \nbefore the Star Chamber if nowhere else ; and, fur- \nthermore, it was in the present instance his place to \ndo it, for he was the representative man of the Coun- \ncil for New England, and to him, as such, Morton \nhad been sent. In his defence of his patent before \nthe House of Commons Gorges had especially dwelt \non the heinousness of traders selling arms to the In- \ndians, and, a little later, he had procured from the \nPrivy Council a royal proclamation forbidding it ; \nand now the chief offender in selling arms, who had \ntreated the proclamation with contempt, denying even \n\n\nBOSTON FOUNDED. 1629. \n\nthat it was law, had been arrested and delivered to \nhim a prisoner. The Court of Star Chamber was but \nanother name for the Privy Council. Gorges was a \npower in it. Undoubtedly, therefore, in the Star \nChamber he could have taught Morton that royal \nproclamations, even if they were not law, at that time \nand so far as he was concerned, had much the force of \nlaw. But Gorges, apparently, had something else in \nview. \n\nIt has already been mentioned that, as Oldham had \nlanded in Plymouth, where Gorges was royal gov- \nernor, there can be no doubt that Bradford's letter \nwas at once delivered to the lattei, and the offences of \nwhich Morton stood charged explained to him. There \ncan be equally little doubt that Gorges, after his \nwont, then proceeded to get all the information he \ncould as to what was going on in New England from \nboth Oldham and Morton. At first he may have \nbeen, and probably was, very indignant with the lat- \nter, and intent on having him punished ; but if such \nwas the case his anger soon cooled. The growing dif- \nficulties between the Massachusetts company and the \nCouncil for New England have just been described, \nand it called for no great degree of cunning on Mor- \nton's part to take advantage of these difficulties for \nthe purpose of ingratiating himself with Gorges. That \nhe did so appears clearly from the course of sub° \nsequent events. Like all the hangers-on at court; \nGorges w^as a high-churchman ; the promoters of the \nMassachusetts company were Puritans ; the Plymouth \npeople were Separatists. Under such circumstances \nMorton's course was clear. In giving his account of \nthe events which had resulted in his appearing a pris- \noner at Plymouth, he represented himself as a victim \n\n\n1629. \"LOSSE OF LABOURED 223 \n\nof religious persecution ; and it was not difficult then \nfor him to show to the old knight and his son that he \nand they were interested together, as opposed to the \nold comers at Plymouth and the new comers at Salem. \n\nOldham, meanwhile, was at this very time taking \nfrom John Gorges a conveyance of territory, and \ncould therefore hardly have seen his interest in press- \ning matters against Morton in that quarter. In this \nway it probably was that the master of Merry-Mount \nescaped without so much as a rebuke. Nevertheless \nthere is reason to believe that his case was brought to \nthe notice of the Governor and Assistants of the Mas- \nsachusetts company, and that they now quietly made \ntheir arrangements to deal with him under certain \nfuture contingencies. None the less, for the i3resent \nMorton was not only safe from all fear of molestation, \nbut he was free to return to America. He was not \nslow in doing so. \n\nAt this time Isaac Allerton was in London as the \nagent of the Plymouth colony. The principal busi- \nness he had in hand was to secure a new patent for \nthe Plymouth people, covering by correct bounds a \ngrant on the Kennebec ; but, besides this, he was com- \nmissioned to obtain if possible a royal charter for \nPlymouth like that of the Massachusetts Bay com- \npany. In regard to the Kennebec patent he had to \ndeal with the Council for New England ; the charter \ncould be obtained only from the King. The business \ngave Allerton much trouble. Indeed, as a correspon- \ndent wrote to Bradford, he \" was so turrmoyled about \nit, as verily I would not nor could not have undergone \nit, if I might have had a thousand pounds.\" He found, \ntoo, that at King Charles' Court \" many locks must \nbe opened with the silver, nay, the golden key.\" He \n\n\n224 BOSTON FOUNDED. 1629. \n\ncould make no headway except through favor, and the \ninfluence of Sir Ferdiuando Gorges had to be secured. \nIn securing it, not impossibly Morton proved himself \na convenient go-between. In any event, when AUer- \nton returned to New England in 1629 he astonished \nand scandalized the Plymouth community by bringing \nMorton back with him, \" as it were to nose them,\" as \nBradford indignantly put it. Allerton then lodged \nMorton in his own house, employing him as a clerk \nor scribe ; an additional reason for inferring that he \nhad in England been employed in a similar confi- \ndential way. It is easy as well as ludicrous to im- \nagine the mixed disgust and dismay with which the \nsedate elders of Plymouth eyed the roystering lawyer \nas, like a counterfeit coin, he was returned on their \nhands ; but it was in vain they protested at this undo- \ning of the work of the previous year, and objected to \nMorton that he had not yet answered the charges laid \nto his door, for \" hee onely made this modest reply, \nthat hee did perceave they were willfuU people, that \nwould never be answered ; and derided them for their \npractises and losse of laboure.\" \n\nIt does not appear how long Morton now remained \nat Plymouth ; but it could not have been more than a \nfew weeks before Allerton, who himself went back to \nEngland during the season, was, as Bradford puts it, \n\" caused to pack him away.\" He then returned to \nMt. WoUaston, where he found such of his old com- \npany as had not been dispersed by Standish, or fright- \nened away by Endicott, — the more modest of them \nand those who had looked to their better walking ; \nbut hardly was he well back among them before he \nwas in trouble with Endicott. It could not have been \notherwise. For a loose, reckless roysterer, like Mor- \n\n\n1629. ''GOD'S WORD.\" 225 \n\nton, to hope to live quietly side by side with the se- \nvere, God-fearino- ofeneration which had now sat down \nat Salem was manifestly out of the question. In Vir- \nginia he would have been in his element ; in New \nYork he would have been unmolested ; indeed, any- \nwhere else in the English colonies Morton would have \nlived unnoticed and died unremembered. Fate threw \nhim among the intolerants of New England, and the \ninevitable had to follow. \n\nThe first difficulty arose out of the jealousy which \nthe old settlers entertained towards the new. The \nchief apprehension the leaders of the Massachusetts \ncompany had felt in regard to what Oldham might do \nhad related to this jealousy. They feared he might \nwork on it, \" and draw a party to himself, to the great \nhindrance of the common quiet.\" This was exactly \nwhat Morton now attempted. In the midst of the \nscattered little community he was a Gorges intriguer \nand a mischief-maker. As such he soon made his \npresence felt. Some time in the latter part of 1629, \nEndicott, in pursuance of instructions from London, \nseems to have summoned all the settlers to meet to- \ngether in a general court at Salem. There he doubt- \nless informed them as to the general policy which the \ncompany proposed to pursue ; and Morton says that \nhe then tendered to all present, for signature, certain \narticles which he and the Rev. Samuel Skelton had \ndrawn up together. The purport of these articles \nwas that in all causes, ecclesiastical as well as political, \nthe tenor of God's word should be followed. The al- \nternative was banishment. \n\nMorton claims that he alone of all those present \nrefused to put his hand to this paper, insisting that a \nproviso should first be added in these words, — \" So as \n\n\n226 BOSTON FOUNDED. 1629. \n\nnothing be done contrary, or repugnant to the Lawes \nof the Kingdome of England.\" This is ahnost the ex- \nact language of King Charles' charter which had been \ngranted some six months before, and with the phrase- \nology of which Morton was probably acquainted. \nWhether the amendment thus proposed was accepted \nby Endicott does not appear. It probably was, \nthough it is not difficult to imagine the grim dissatis- \nfaction with which the sujju'estion of it must have been \nreceived in view of the quarter from which it came. \nThe subject of regulating the trade in beaver skins \nwas next brought up, and it v/as projiosed to enter \ninto a general partnership for the term of one year. \nMorton says that on this matter also he stood out, and \nit seems altogether probable that he did, for he was \nthere to make trouble on behalf of Gorges and Old- \nham. On the other hand, Endicott's instructions were \nexplicit. He was to see to it that \" none be partakers \nof [the company's] privileges and profits, but such as \nbe peaceable men, and of honest life and conversation, \nand desirous to live amongst us, and conform them- \nselves to good order and government.\" And further, \nif any factious spirit developed itself, he was enjoined \n\" to suppress a mischief before it take too great a \nhead, . . . which if it may be done by a temperate \ncourse, we much desire it, though with some inconven- \nience, so as our government and privileges be not \nbrought into contempt. . . . But if necessity require \na more severe course, when fair means will not prevail, \nwe pray you to deal as in your discretions you shall \nthink fittest.\" Instructions like these, in the hands \nof a magistrate like Endicott, boded ill for such as \nThomas Morton. \n\nMatters soon came to a crisis. Morton was proba- \n\n\n1629. AN EMPTY NEST. 227 \n\nbly emboldened to take the course he now took by the \nbelief that he would be supported in it by powerful \ninfluence in London. He may have confidently hoped \nto see Oldham's vessel appear at any time, with him on \nboard, come to take actual possession of the Robert \nGorges gi'ant on the shore of the bay opposite to Mt. \nWollaston. In any event he refused to be bound by \nthe company's trade regulations, and seems to have \ngone back to the less objectionable, at least, of his \nold courses, — dealing with the savages as he saw fit, \nopenly exjDressing his contempt for Endicott's au- \nthority, and doing all he could to breed discontent \namong the old planters. His own profits at this time \nwere, he says, six and seven fold. Such a state of \nthings could not continue. The affront daily put \nupon the Governor was flagrant, and would have \nstirred the anger of a patient man ; and John Endi- \ncott was not conspicuous for patience. Had he ig- \nnored it, he might feel sure that his oj^ponent would \ntake heart, and be emboldened to do him a far greater \ninjury thereafter. Accordingly, as the year drew to \nits close, Endicott made an effort to arrest Morton ; \nbut the latter had learned by experience, and was not \nto be twice caught in the same way. So, in some \nway getting notice in advance of what was intended, \nhe concealed his ammunition and most necessary goods \nin the forest ; and when the messengers, sent across \nthe bay to seize him, landed on the beach before his \nhouse, he was nowhere to be found. The bird was \nflown. This is his account of what then ensued : — \n\n\" The Commissioners entred the howse, and wilfully bent \nagainst mine honest Host, that loved good hospitality. \nAfter they had feasted their bodies with that they found \nthere, they carried all his corne away, with some other of \n\n\n228 BOSTON FOUNDED. \n\nhis floods, contrary to the Lawes of hospitality : a smale \nparcell of refuse come only excepted, whicli they left mine \nHost to keepe Christmas with. \n\n\"But when they were gone, mine Host fell to make use \nof his gunne, (as one that had a good faculty in the use of \nthat instrument,) and feasted his body neverthelesse with \nfowle and venison, which hee purchased witli the helpe of \nthat instrument, the plenty of the Country and the commo- \ndiousnes of the place affording meanes, by the blessing of \nGod ; and hee did but deride Captaine Littleworth, [Endi- \ncott] that made his servants snap shorte in a Country so \nmuch abounding with plenty of foode for an industrious \nman, with greate variety.\" \n\nCould Endicott now have laid hands on him, \nthere can be no doubt that Morton would have found \nhimself dealt with in summary fashion ; but for the \npresent the Governor's attention was otherwise oc- \ncupied, for this was that winter of 1629-30, during \nwhich famine and sickness were rife at Salem. A \nquarter part of those there died, and it was question- \nable whether the remainder, reduced by disease and \nwant of food, could struggle through until the coming \nspring brought succor from England. Under such \ncircumstances, the magistrate had no time to think of \nMorton. But not for that reason did he forget him. \n\nWith the following summer the great change came. \nOn the w of Si the Mary & John, a ship of four \nhundred tons measurement, commanded by Captain \nSqueb, anchored off Hull, at the entrance of Boston \nBay. She had sailed from Plymouth on the |^I of \nthe previous March, having on board about a hun- \ndred and twenty passengers from the West of Eng- \nland. The agreement was that they were to be landed \nat the mouth of the Charles River, Mishawum appar- \n\n\n1630. ''GODLY FAMILIES:' 229 \n\nently being the place intended ; for those on board of \nthe Mary & John belonged to the Massachusetts \ncompany, and must have been perfectly informed as \nto what had already been done, and what was pro- \nposed. They were, in fact, the advance of the larger \nbody of emigrants who had embarked with Win- \nthrop on the fleet at Southampton only two days \nafter Captain Squeb had got under weigh from Plym- \nouth. The voyage of the Mary & John had been \nentered upon by the \" godly families,\" many in num- \nber and of good rank, who composed the bulk of the \npassengers, by a solemn day spent in preaching and \npraying and fasting, and had proved one of fair aver- \nage quickness for those times, occupying seventy days. \nThey had come \" through the deeps comfortably, hav- \ning preaching or expounding of the word of God every \nday for ten weeks together by [their] ministers.\" \n\nHaving now reached the entrance to the bay, the \ncaptain informed the passengers that the voyage was \nended, and that they and their effects would be put on \nshore there. Nantasket beach and the bold, swelling \nheadland of Hull must always in the month of June \nhave been an attractive place, and in 1630, as now, \nthe white, cool surf rolled in upon the sands at the \nfoot of hills green with the verdure of spring, amid \nwhich wild strawberries ripened in profusion. As \nthe sea-wearied emigrants climbed to the summits of \nthose hills they beheld from them a view of almost \nunsurpassed beauty. On the one side lay the broad \nharbor interspersed with green islands covered with \ntrees, while on the other was a boundless expanse of \nocean, the deep blue of which was here and there near \nthe shore broken by white waves rolling over isolated \nrocks. Beyond the harbor lay the forest-clad uplands \n\n\n230 BOSTON FOUNDED. June, \n\nof the promised land, with the Blue Hills looming \nup hazily and yet boldly against the western horizon. \nThe air was soft and pure ; the skies were serene. \nYet however attractive the place may have seemed to \nthose West of England rustics, cramped and wearied \nby their long voyage, as a j)ermanent home it was \nmanifestly far from inviting. A vivid glimpse of it, \nas it then appeared to longer sojourners, is obtained \nthrough a little episode which took place the year be- \nfore Squeb's coming, and which is not only pictur- \nesque in itself, but full of suggestiveness in connection \nwith the early daj's of Massachusetts. As such it de- \nserves to be told in detail. \n\nThis was the experience of Ralph Smith, a clergy- \nman who had come over to Salem in company with \nthose who, in 1629, reinforced Endicott and settled \nCbarlestown. Smith wished to emigrate to New Eng- \nland, and the company readily enough granted him \npermission to do so ; but when his family and effects \nwere already embarked, and it was too late to put \nhim ashore, it came out that he differed *' in judgment \nin some things \" from the company's own ministers. \nUnder the circumstances he was allowed to proceed, \nbut at the same time orders were sent to Endicott in \nthese words, — \" Unless he will be conformable to \nour government, you suffer him not to remain within \nthe limits of our grant.\" The unfortunate clergyman \nhad, in consequence, hardly landed at Salem when he \nwas shipped off again with his family and effects. \nBradford then takes up the narrative as follows : — \n\n\" Ther was one Mr. Ralf e Smith, and his wife and fami- \nlie, that came over into the Bay of the Massachusets, and so- \njourned at presente with some stragling people that lived at \nNatascoe ; here being a boat of this place putting in ther on \n\n\n1630. ''AN UNCOTH PLACE:' 231 \n\nsome occasion, he ernestly desired that they would give \nhim and his, passage for Plimoth, and some such things as \nthey could well carrie ; having before heard that ther was \nliklyhood he might procure house-roome for some time, till \nhe should resolve to setle ther, if he might, or els-wher as \nGod should disposs ; for he was werie of being in that un- \ncoth place, and in a poore house that would neither keep \nhim nor his goods drie. So, seeing him to be a grave man, \nand understood he had been a minister, though they had no \norder for any such thing, yet they presumed and brought \nhim. He was here accordingly kindly entertained and \nhoused, and had the rest of his goods and servants sente \nfor, and exercised his gifts amongst them, and afterwards \nwas chosen into the ministrie, and so remained for sundrie \nyears.\" \n\nThe incident not only reveals Nantasket, in 1629, \nas an \" uncoth place,\" occupied by \" some stragling \npeople,\" but it vividly sets forth the difference, so \nfar as Christian toleration was concerned, between the \nSeparatists of Plymouth and the Puritans of Massa- \nchusetts Bay. The former kindly entertained the un- \nfortunate outcast ; and among them he exercised his \ngifts, such as they were, for many years, being chosen \ninto their ministry. The latter, with much the same \nidea of toleration as that court of High Commission \nfrom which they had fled, cast him and his little chil- \ndren out into the wilderness, even as Sarah cast out \nHagar. \n\nSuch had been a newcomer's experience at Nantas- \nket the summer before Caj)tain Squeb landed there \nhis living freight of men, women and children. He, \nat least, knew perfectly well that the place where he \nhad come to anchor was not the mouth of the Charles. \nIt was, indeed, roughly represented as being so on \n\n\n232 BOSTON FOUNDED. June, \n\nSmith's map ; but Squeb was no sti'anger on that coast. \nFor years he had been connected with the Council for \nNew England. In 1622 he had been formally com- \nmissioned by it as aid and assistant to its Admiral, \nFrancis West, and had come out in command of the \nJohn & Francis of London. It is true, he had then \napparently explored Mt. Desert ; but there can be \nlittle doubt that, if he himself had not before been \nin Boston harbor, some of his present crew had been \nthere, and when he landed his passengers at Hull he \nknew he was not fulfilling his contract. Nevertheless, \nland them there he did, and it only remained for them \nto huddle on the beach and shift for themselves. Bor- \nrowing a boat from the old settlers, the remnant of \nOldham and Lyford's plantation, a well-armed party \nset out, a day or two after the landing, in search of \ntheir true destination. It would not be possible to \nrecount the experience of this party in any language \nso expressive as that of Roger Clapp, one of its num- \nber : — \n\n\" We went in [the boat] unto Charlestown, where we \nfound some wigwams and one house ; and in the house \nthere was a man which had a boiled bass, but no bread, \nthat we see. But we did eat of his bass, and then went up \nCharles river until the river grew narrow and shallow, and \nthere we landed our goods with much labor and toil, the \nbank being steep ; and night coming on, we were informed \nthat there were hard by us three hundred Indians. One \nEnglishman, that could speak the Indian language, (an old \nplanter,) went to them, and advised them not to come near \nus in the night ; and they hearkened to his counsel, and \ncame not. I myself was one of the sentinels that first \nnight. Our captain was a Low Country soklier, one Mr. \nSouthcot, a brave soldier. In the morning, some of the In- \n\n\n1630. DORCHESTER. 233 \n\ndians came and stood at a distance ofp, looking at ns, but \ncame not near us. But when they had been a while in \nview, some of them came and held out a great bass towards \nus ; so we sent a man with a biscuit, and changed the cake \nfor the bass. Afterwards, they supplied us with bass, ex- \nchanging a bass for a biscuit cake, and were very friendly \nunto us. . . . \n\n\" We had not been there many days, (although by our \ndiligence we had got up a kind of shelter to save our goods \nin,) but we had order to come away from that place, which \nwas about Watertown, unto a place called Mattapan, now \nDorchester, because there was a neck of land fit to keep \nour cattle on. So we removed and came to Mattapan. \nThe Indians there also were kind unto us.\" \n\nThe old planter here referred to, who could speak \nthe Indian tongue, was probably Blackstone, though \nit may have been Walford, at whose house at Misha- \nwum they apparently stopped. One or the other of \nthe two must, it would seem, have gone with them up \nthe Charles as a guide. The place where they landed \nand encamped is supposed to have been the spot since \noccupied as a United States Arsenal in Watertown, \nand long known as the Dorchester fields. The local- \nity to which they were recalled, and where the whole \ncompany finally settled down, was the historical Dor- \nchester heights, now better known as South Boston. \n\nScarcely were they established here when, on the \nJy^ of June, Governor Winthrop, who had arrived at \nSalem five days before, came into the harbor, and \nwent up the Mystic in search of a suitable place for \nsettlement. Two days later, having sufficiently ex- \nplored the country, as he thought, he returned to Sa- \nlem, stopping on his way at Nantasket. The body of \nthose who had come over in the Mary & John would \n\n\n234 BOSTON FOUNDED. July, \n\nstill seem to have been there, as Winthrop says that \nhe ^' sent for Captain Squib ashore and ended a dif- \nference between him and the passengers.\" Whereat \nthe captain seems to have experienced quite a sense of \nrelief, as he gave the Governor a salute of five guns \nas the latter headed away to Salem. \n\nWinthrop had found the Charlestown settlers of the \nprevious year in quite as severe straits as he had, a \nfew days before, found the Salem peojile. Their sup- \nplies were wholly exhausted and they were reduced to \nliving on mussels, fish and, when they could get it, \nIndian corn. But it was too late to consider what \nshould be done, for the planting season was already \nover, the summer being now well advanced, and all \nthat could at best be accomplished was to provide \nshelter against the rigor of the coming winter. Bos- \nton, or, as it was then called, Massachusetts Bay, had \nbeen fixed upon as the place where those who came with \nWinthrop were to land, and some provision for them \nhad already been made at Charlestown. To Charles- \ntown, therefore, the several vessels, twelve in num- \nber, came, and there the passengers and cargoes of \nhousehold goods were at last put on shore. In the \ncourse of the month of July, the whole of the hiU \nabout the building which had been put up by Graves \nthe year before was covered thick with tents, wig- \nwams, booths and cottages. Governor Winthrop with \nhis family, and Isaac Johnson, whose wife, the Lady \nArbella, daughter of the Earl of Lincoln, had been \nleft at Salem, probably occupied the one house, to- \ngether with Mr. Wilson, the clergyman, and Increase \nNo well, the elder. They had no church, and the \npreaching was in the open air under the sheltering \nleaves of a large tree. \n\n\n1G30. UNACCLIMATED IMMIGRANTS. 235 \n\nA state of thinsfs better calculated to breed sickness \ncould not well have existed. Several hundred men, \nwomen and children were crowded together in a nar- \nrow space, almost without shelter, and with unaccus- \ntomed and improper food. Never in their lives \nhaving seen anything but their English homes, they \nknew nothing of frontier life, to the new and strange \nconditions of which they were, after the manner of \ntheir race, unable readily to adapt themselves. Nor \nwas this all. When they arrived they had been living \nfor months on shipboard, fed on that salt meat which \nwas then the only sea fare. Their systems had become \nreduced, and the scurvy had broken out. They were \nin no condition to bear exposure. Then, landed sud- \ndenly in midsummer, they had their first experience \nof a climate quite different from that which they had \nknown before, — a climate of excessive heat and sud- \nden change. Their clothing was not adapted to it. \nAs a matter of course, dysentery and all sorts of \nbowel complaints began to appear. These they did \nnot know how to treat, and they made things worse by \nthe salt food to w^hich they doubtless recurred when \nthey found that an improper use of the berries and \nnatural fruits of the country caused the disorders \nunder which they suffered. Their camp, too, could \nnot have been properly policed. We know what the \nsanitary condition of London and all large towns was \nin the first half of the seventeenth century, and how \nlittle attention was paid to growing piles of filth, even \nin the oldest and best-ordered communities. By de- \ngrees the hill at Charlestown, covered with decaying \nvegetable and animal matter, became unfit for human \nhabitation ; the air reeked with foul odors. It was \neasier to move away from the place than to cleanse it. \n\n\n236 BOSTON FOUNDED. 1630. \n\nUnfortunately, Wiutlirop's contemporaneous account \nof this period of great trial has not been preserved. \nIt was contained in the letters written to his wife, who \nhad remained behind in England, while his whole \njournal record of the eighty-two days which intervened \nbetween his going to \" Mattachusetts to find out a \nplace for our sitting down,\" on the ITth of June, and \nthe 7th of September, when the order was passed that \n'' Trimountain shall be called Boston,\" fills but thirty- \nsix printed lines, and nearly all of the memoranda \ncontained even in those lines were made at a subse- \nquent time. There were no days in Winthrop's life \nmore trying to him, or of greater historical interest, \nthan these ; but their story was one of only discour- \nagement and endurance. In the course of a few \nmonths, as he wrote to his wife, he lost twelve in his \nown family, including in the phrase \" family \" the ser- \nvants he brought with him. AVhen the ships returned \nto England in July, nearly one hundred went back in \nthem, and at a later day others removed to Gorges' \nand Mason's plantation at Piscataqua. Those who re- \nmained do not seem to have been at all supplied with \nmedicines, and their only doctor, \" Mr. Gager, a right \ngodly man, a skilful chirurgeon and one of the deacons \nof [the] congregation,\" himself died in September. \nThe worthy Dr. Samuel Fuller, of Plymouth, visited \nthe bay at this time, though he seems to have gone in \nhis capacity of deacon rather than as a physician. \nThe account he gave of the condition of affairs was \ngraphic. The hand of God, he wrote back to \nPlymouth, was upon them, visiting them with sickness \nand not sparing the righteous. \" Many are sick, and \nmany are dead, the Lord in mercy look upon them ! \n... I here but lose time and long to be at home. I \n\n\n1G30. PESTILENCE. 237 \n\ncan do them no good, for I want drugs and things fit- \nting to work with.\" Perhaps it was as well that Dr. \nFuller did go back to Plymouth, for the copious blood- \nletting, to which in the absence of drugs he seems to \nhave had recourse,^ could only have still further weak- \nened sj^stems already too much reduced. As human \naid could not be procured or seemed unavailing, the \ndivine protection was invoked, and, after the Puritan \nfashion, days were set aside for fasting, humiliation \nand prayer, the severe observance of which by individ- \nuals doubtless aggravated any tendency to disease \nlatent in them. The prevailing malady soon, of course, \nbecame epidemic, and was supposed to be infectious. \nThe people of the poorer class, as being the less well \nfed and the more exposed, naturally suffered the most \nfrom it, and it fell heavily on the young ; though the \nmore mature and the better-conditioned were by no \nmeans exempt. The unfortunate Lady Arbella John- \nson, coming direct \" from a paradise of plenty and pleas- \nure into a wilderness of wants,\" sickened in August \nand early in September was dead. Her husband, one \nof the Assistants, as they were called, or directors of \nthe company, followed her a month later. Another of \nthe Assistants, Edward Rossiter, died in October. \nCoddington and Pynchon, also Assistants, lost their \nwives ; so did the Rev. George Phillips, pastor of the \nchurch at Watertown, and George Alcock, deacon of \nthe church at Dorchester. \n\nUnder these circumstances, there being no family in \nwhich there was not one dead, while in some families \nthere were many, a strong feeling of discontent with \nthe locality in which the settlers found themselves \nplaced naturally began to manifest itself. There were \n\n1 I. Mass. Hist. Coll. iii. 74. \n\n\n238 BOSTON FOUNDED. 1630. \n\nin the neighborhood no living springs or running water, \nsuch as they remembered at home ; and to this fact \nthe sickness was in great degree attributed. The single \nbrackish water-source in the sands near the beach, to \nwhich they all went, did not half suffice to supply the \ngeneral need. Accordingly, as the season advanced and \nthe regions thereabout were more thoroughly explored, \nthose at Charlestown broke up into small parties, seek- \ning out different places of settlement. Some went to \nMedford, and sat down by the Mystic ; others to Rox- \nbury, attracted by the fresh, clear waters of Smelt \nBrook. Watertown and Dorchester were already oc- \ncupied. All this time William Blackstone, who had \nnow been in the country seven years, was living alone \nas a hermit on the western slope of the peninsula, the \nthree hills of which, across the channel to the south \nand west of Charlestown, lifted up their heads, bare \nof trees, in a neighborhood \" very uneven, abounding \nin small hollows and swamps, covered with blueberries \nand other bushes.\" Knowing well, of course, the sit- \nuation of affairs amongst the newcomers, and hearing \nthe complaints of the insufficient supply of water, \nBlackstone's sympathies seem to have been moved, \nand he called AVinthrop's attention to a fine spring on \nhis own peninsula. Judging by the subsequent loca- \ntion of Winthrop's house and of the first church, this \nspring was slightly to the rear and on the east of the \nspot upon which the Old South Meeting-house was \nbuilt a century later. It was fenced in at an early \nday, and the familiar name of \" the Spring-gate \" was \nlong retained by its place of entrance ; ^ and later the \npassage-way across where the spring once flowed was \ncalled Spring Lane, the name it still retains. Black- \n\n1 Shurtleff , Description of Boston, 389. \n\n\n1630. SHA WMUT. 239 \n\nstoue now urged the Governor to move across and es- \ntablish himself and his people there. Whereupon, \nearly in October, much to the dissatisfaction of some \nof those who had with much labor got dwellings ready \nat Charlestown, Winthrop caused the frame of the \nhouse that was to have been built for him at Cam- \nbridge to be moved bodily to Shawmut, and set up op- \nposite the southern corner of the present junction of \nSchool Street with Washington Street. With him \nwent the Rev. Mr. Wilson and the greater part of \nhis congregation. There they '' began to build their \nhouses against winter ; and this place was called Bos- \n\n\nCHAPTER XV. \n\nTHE FIRST ASSAULT ON KING CHARLES' CHARTER. \n\nFamine, sickness and death at Salem ; tlie confu- \nsion of settlement, together with the terror which \naccompanied and the sense of bereavement which fol- \nlowed pestilence, at Charlestown, — all these had \ngiven a reprieve to Thomas Morton ; so, through the \nmonths of July and August, 1630, he lived undis- \nturbed in his house at Mt. WoUaston. It was, indeed, \na full year since his return there from Plymouth, \nwhen at last the hour for dealing with him cauie. Not \nimprobably his was looked upon as a species of test \ncase, through their treatment of w^iich the magistrates \nof the new colony were to demonstrate to the old \nplanters the fact that they, as magistrates, not only \nhad the power to deal summarily with all whom they \nwere pleased to regard as interlopers, but they would \nnot hesitate to use that power. The spirit of discon- \ntent which smouldered among those who yet continued \nin the land, remnants of the Gorges failure of 1623, \nhas already been referred to. If one or two of them \nwere punished, it was felt that these would serve for \nan example to the others and reduce them at once to \nconformity. Morton was to furnish this example. \n\nThe first formal session of the magistrates, after \nthe arrival of Winthroj) at Charlestown, was not held \nuntil the 1 of g^- There can be little question \nthat they met in the great house at Charlestown, and \n\n\n1(330. MORTON ARRAIGNED. 241 \n\nthe Governor, Deputy Governor Dudley, Sir Richard \nSaltonstall, Pynchon, Bradstreet and others of the \nAssistants whose names are less familiar, were pres- \nent. In disposing of business in hand, provision was \nfirst made for the lodging and maintenance of the \nclergy ; and it was then ordered '' that Morton, of \nMount AVoolison, should presently be sent for by pro- \ncesse.\" Of the circumstances of his arrest, under \nthe warrant thus issued against him, Morton has left \nus no account ; but, two weeks later, on the -^ of Sep- \ntember, he was arraigned before the magistrates again \nin session. In addition to those at the previous meet- \ning, Isaac Johnson — whose wife, the Lady Arbella, \nthen lay on her deathbed — and Endicott were there, \nthe latter having probably come from Salem expressly \nto attend to the case of Morton. To the prisoner it \nmust have been apparent from the first that the tri- \nbunal was one from which he had nothing to hope. \nOf Endicott he had already had experience ; and now, \nat Endicott's side, sat the narrow-minded, intolerant \nDudley, with Pynchon and Bradstreet, all stern men \nand harsh, typical Puritan magistrates. Winthrop \nwas in the governor's chair. Some business of detail \nwas first disposed of, and the officers then produced \ntheir prisoner. The proceedings which ensued could \nnot well have been more summary had they taken \nplace in the Star Chamber, or the Court of High \nCommission ; and Morton was soon made to realize \nthat he was not there to defend himself, but to re- \nceive, as best he might, a sentence which had already \nbeen decided upon. In vain did he challenge the ju- \nrisdiction of the court ; in vain did he seek to humble \nhimself before its authority. Neither challenge nor \nsubmission was regarded. Nor did the magistrates \n\n\n242 THE ASSAULT ON THE CHARTER. Sep. \n\nwaste their time in listening to a prolix defence. On \nthe contrary the argument of the accused, like his \nprotest and his submission, was peremptorily cut short \nby impatient exclamations, and he was sternly bidden \nto hold his peace and listen to the governor, while he \npronounced the decision of the court. And, indeed, \nthe prisoner could not but have listened in speechless \namazement and indignation while the following root- \nand-branch sentence was passed upon him : — \n\n\" It is ordered by this present Court, that Thomas Mor- \nton, of Mount WolHston, shall presently be set into the bil- \nboes, and after sent prisoner into England, by the ship \ncalled the Gift, now returning thither ; that all his goods \nshall be seized upon to defray the charge of his transporta- \ntion, payment of his debts, and to give satisfaction to the \nIndians for a canoe he unjustly took away from them ; and \nthat his house, after his goods are taken out, shalt be burnt \ndown to the ground in the sight of the Indians, for their \nsatisfaction, for many wrongs he hath done them from time \nto time.\" \n\nThis sentence spoke for itself then. It speaks for \nitself now. Unfortunately Winthrop's admonitory \nremarks in announcing it have not been handed down \nto us, though we get in Morton's account of the pro- \nceedings a faint, far-away echo of what those remarks \nwere. It comes in the expression, which he makes a \npart of the judgment, that his house was to be burned \n\" because the habitation of the wicked should no more \nappear in Israel.\" This phrase could hardly but have \nbeen Winthrop's. It has in it the true Puritan ring, \n— the \"thus saith the Lord\" refrain. It was Bible \nlaw, also, and illustrated to Morton in his own case \nthe significance of that Salem covenant, to which dur- \ning the previous year he had refused to set his name, \n\n\n1630. A ROOT-AND-BRANCH SENTENCE. 243 \n\nthat \" in all causes, as well Ecclesiasticall, as Politi- \ncal!, wee should follow the rule of God's word.\" \n\nNeither was the sentence now promulgated an idle \none ; and, indeed, the Puritan magistrate was apt in \nsuch cases to be as good as his word. The Master of \nMerry-Mount — Sachem of Passonagessit as he loved \nto call himself, and Lord of Misrule as those of Plym- \nouth called him — was ignominiously set in the stocks \nbefore the great house at Charlestown, in the face of \nthe whole infant settlement; and there, he tells us \nhimself, the *' harmeles salvages (his neighboures) \" \ncame, \" poore silly lambes,\" to look at him in blank \nastonishment, wondering what it was all about. The \nsentence included, also, his banishment, and the burn- \ning of his house to the ground. It was literally exe- \ncuted, though not without some delay. The prisoner \nwas not sent back to England in the Gift, for the rea- \nson that the master of that vessel decKned to take him, \non what ground does not appear ; nor was it until the \nend of December — nearly, if not quite, four months \nafter his arrest — that a passage was obtained for him \nin the Handmaid. Even then, obdurate to the last, \nMorton refused to go on board the vessel, declaring \nthat he had no call to go there, and so he had to be \nhoisted on board by a tackle. On the passage over, \nalso, he was nearly starved, no provision, except a \nvery inadequate one from his own stores, having been \nmade for his support, wliile the burning of his house \nseems to have been dramatically arranged with that \ncurious vindictiveness which was characteristic of the \nPuritans. \" The habitation of the wicked should no \nmore appear in Israel ; \" but the destruction of it was \nreserved until the \" wicked \" man was on his way into \nbanishment, and then nt was burned down in his sight, \n\n\n244 THE ASSAULT ON THE CHARTER. 1630. \n\ndrearily lighting his outgoing path, \" and nothing did \nremain but the bare ashes as an emblem of their cru- \nelty.\"i \n\nThe justice, and even the propriety, of Morton's \nfirst arrest by the Plymouth authorities in 1628, can- \nnot be successfully challenged. His own subsequent \npretence, that it was merely the means adopted by \nthem for breaking up a disagreeable competition in \nthe fur trade, is deserving of no more weight than his \nother suggestion, that they disturbed him because of \nmuch \" enveying against the sacred booke of common \nprayer, and mine host that used it in a laudable man- \nner amongst his family, as a practise of piety.\" The \nmeasure was, whether technically legal or not, a meas- \nure of self-preservation, pure and simple. That the \nestablishment at Mt. Wollaston was a disorderly one, \nis apparent in every line of Morton's account of it. \nA trade in firearms was there carried on. This was \ndistinctly charged, and Morton never, at the time or \nlater, denied it. That he would have denied it quickly \nand emphatically enough, had it not been susceptible \nof easy proof, admits of no doubt. In taking vigor- \nous measures to suppress this traffic, by arresting and \nsending to England the responsible promoter of it, \nthe Plymouth magistrates did only what they were \n\n1 There seems no question on this point. Samuel Maverick, writing- \nthirty years afterwards to the Earl of Clarendon, says : \" They fur- \nther ordered, as he was to sail in sight of his house, that it shoxild be \nfired\" {Coll N. Y. Hist. Soc. 1869, p. 40); while Morton himself \nwrote that he \" a f arre of abourd a ship did there behold this wof uU \nspectacle.\" (New English Canaan, 164.) The sentence, that the \nhouse should be \" burnt down to the ground in the sight of the In- \ndians,\" was passed at the session of the magistrates held on Septem- \nber 7 {liecords, i. 75), and not until the close of December did the \nHandmaid set sail. (Young, Chron. of Mass. 321.) See, also, Proc \nMass. Hist. Soc. Series II. i. 238. \n\n\n1630. PURGING THE LAND. 245 \n\ncompelled to do ; and, in doing it, they acted with mod- \neration and self-restraint. Their descendants, eight \ngenerations removed and upon a less remote frontier, \nwould have disposed of the whole matter in a far \nmore summary way, — in the way, in fact, which Mor- \nton says Miles Standish threatened to adopt. \n\nNeither was the second arrest, that of 1630, under \nWinthrop's process, in itself a thing to be criticised. \nAccording to Morton's own account, he had been a \nthorn, both sharp and rankling, in Endicott's side ; \nnot only had he refused to enter into any covenants, \nwhether for trade or government, but he had openly \nderided the magistrate and eluded his messengers. \nThis would not do. The company was right when it \nformally instructed Endicott that \"all must live under \ngovernment and a like law.\" It was necessary, there- \nfore, that Morton should in good faith give in his sub- \nmission, or that he should be compelled to take him- \nself off. This position would have been correct ; but \nthis position the magistrates did not take. Nothing \nwas said in the sentence of any disregard of authority \nor disobedience to regulation. No reference was made \nto illicit dealings with the Indians. The trade in fire- \narms the company had explicitly forbidden, directing \nthat any one guilty of it should forthwith be appre- \nhended and sent to England for punishment. But no \nrenewal of this forbidden trade was now even charged \nagainst Morton. Again, the punishment inflicted \nupon him was one of extreme severity. He was set \nin the stocks ; his whole belongings were confiscated ; \nhis habitation was burned to the ground before his- \neyes ; and he was banished the country. It could \nonly be said that he was not whipped and he was not \nmutilated. Nothing less than a stubborn refusal to \n\n\n246 THE ASSAULT ON THE CHARTER. 1630. \n\nobey the authority of the colony would seem to have \njustified such severity. \n\nOn the other hand the charges actually made against \nhim, and recited in his sentence, were of the most \ntrivial character, — manifestly, trumped-up charges \nto serve a purpose. He had unjustly, it stands al- \nleged, taken away a canoe from some Indians ; he had \nfired a charge of shot among a troop of them, who \nwould not bring a canoe across a river to him, wound- \ning one and tearing a hole in the garments of another; \nhe was \" a proud, insolent man,\" against whom a \n\" multitude of complaints were received \" for injuries \ndone by him both to the English and the Indians. \nThose specified, it is to be presumed, are examples of \nthe rest. They amount absolutely to nothing. Sam- \nuel Maverick, writing long afterwards to Lord Clar- \nendon, very fitly characterized them as mere pretences. \nApparently conscious of this, Dudley, the deputy \ngovernor, in his letter to the Countess of Lincoln, \nadds that Morton was sent to England \" for that my \nLord Chief Justice there so required, that he might \npunish him capitally for fouler misdemeanours there \nperpetrated.\" Bradford, in his reference to this mat- \nter, further adds that Morton \" was vehemently sus- \npected for the murder of a man that had adventured \nmoneys with him, when he came first into New Eng- \nland.\" \n\nThere would seem to be no doubt that there was a \nwarrant in Winthrop's hands against Morton, bearing \nthe sign manual of Nicholas Hyde, who at that time \n• disgraced the office of Lord Chief Justice of the King's \nBench; but, in view of Morton's subsequent immu- \nnity from all punishment, or even, so far as is known, \nfrom any criminal prosecution, a surmise would not \n\n\n1630. FILIAL FALLACIES. 247 \n\nbe forced that this paper had been procured, upon \nsome rumor of criminal conduct, by the lawyers of \nthe company before the fleet of 1630 set sail, in order \nto have it ready for the contingency in which it was \nactually used. In all historical probability, it was \nnothing more or less than a seventeenth century Eng- \nlish substitute for the French lettre de cachet. \n\nMoreover, such a requisition, though it might have \nwarranted the return of Morton as a prisoner to Eng- \nland, certainly did not warrant the confiscation of his \ngoods and the burning of his house, in advance of \ntrial and conviction there. The confiscation and the \nburning were unmistakable acts of high-handed op- \npression. As will frequently appear in these pages, it \nis far too customary with the school of New England \nhistorians to defend this, and the whole long record \nof not dissimilar acts which disfigure the early annals \nof Massachusetts, upon grounds which they are not \nquick to accept when advanced in excuse of Went- \nworth, of Williams, or of Laud. It is argued that \nthe Puritans of the great migi^ation were just. God- \nfearing men, who had suffered persecution at home. \nThey had come to New England a weak, struggling \ncolony. Then it is assumed that unity of thought, as \nwell as of purpose and of action, was essential to the \nexistence of this colony. Freedom of opinion, it is \nfurther assumed, was in those days synonymous with \ninternal dissension ; and internal dissension would \nhave jeopardized, if it had not destroyed, the colony. \nTherefore the stern bigotry and savage intolerance \nwhich made a hideous travesty of law and justice, \nwhen exemplified in Archbishop Laud and his asso- \nciates in the Court of High Commission, became not \nonly excusable in Governor Winthrop and his brother \n\n\n248 THE ASSAULT ON THE CHARTER. 1630. \n\nmagistrates, seated at their table in Boston, but con- \nstitute for them a new title to veneration.^ \n\n1 \" Religious intolerance, like every other public restraint, is crim- \ninal wherever it is not needful for the public safety ; it is simply self- \ndefence, whenever tolerance would be public ruin. . . . And the right \n[to exclude] becomes of yet more value, and the duty more impera- \ntive and inevitable, when the good in question is one of such vast \nworth as religious freedom, to be protected by the possessor, not only \nfor himself, but for the myriads, living and to be born, of whom he \nassumes to be the pioneer and the champion.\" (Palfrey, i. 300, 301.) \n\n\" But, without detracting in the slightest degree from the lofty and \nenviable claims which have been made for [the younger Vane], it \nmay well be more than doubted whether his views [of civil and reli- \ngious liberty] were applicable to the condition of the colony at the \ntime, and whether the little Commonwealth could have been held to- \ngether in peace and prosperity — if held together at all — by any \nother policy than that which Winthrop defended. \n\n' ' It was admirably said by the late Josiah Quincy on this subject, \nin his Centennial Discourse in 1830, that ' had our early ancestors \nadopted the course we at this day are apt to deem so easy and obvious, \nand placed their government on the basis of liberty for all sorts of \nconsciences [the basis which Henry IV. adopted to a modified extent \nin the edict of Nantes], it would have been, in that age [what it was \nnot found to be at all in France], a certain introduction of anarchy, \n[which was the exact argument advanced by Philip II., Louis XIV., \nand other historical persecutors].' \" (R. C. Winthrop, in the Mem. \nHist, of Boston, i. 127.) \n\nThe other side is always worth hearing. Referring to the language \nused by Prynne and Burton, Hook, Dean of Chichester, in his Life of \nLaud (187), says: ''In the days of Henry VIII., Edward VI., Mary \nand Elizabeth, persons who ventured thus to speak of the constituted \nauthorities would have been put to death. Papists had, when in \npower, executed Protestants, and Protestants had executed Papists; \nand Scotch Reformers, out of power, had recommended assassination. \nHow the Pmitans and ultra-Protestants in power were determined to \nact. their murder of Charles and of Laud, their king and their arch- \nbishop, would be sufficient to show. But the principles of the Puri- \ntans are more strongly marked in the laws they ordained for New \nEngland, where the intolerance of presbytery, the madness of the \nAnabaptists, and the extravagance of the Independents and Brownists \nreigned supreme. But they were in stern earnest, and their severity \nwas not against religious errors, as they deemed them, only, but also \nagainst social crime. Capital punishment was adjudged for adultery, \n\n\n1630. FRONTIER JUSTICE. 249 \n\nBut the question of religious tolerance is not now \nto be discussed ; and, so far as Morton is concerned, \nit does not then appear to have entered into the \nquestion. His was a case of civil persecution only. \nThe man before them was a poor, lawless creature at \nbest, and the Massachusetts magistrates had made up \ntheir minds in advance. They meant, in the preach- \ner's holy phrase, to purge him from the land. He \nwas not only what they termed a \" libertine,\" but his \npresence at Mt. Wollaston was a standing menace to \nthe company. The best use to which he could be de- \nvoted was that of an example to others. Doubtless, \nalso, they suspected him even now of being an emis- \nsary of Gorges ; for they must, through Oldham, have \nknown of the relations betw^een the two during Mor- \nton's recent sojourn in England. If Winthrop and \nthe rest entertained any such surmise, they were also \nquite correct in it. Morton was even then in corre- \nspondence with Sir Ferdinando. That he was an un- \ndesirable character to have about an infant colony, \nsuch as that presided over by Endicott and Win- \nthrop, does not admit of question, and it was the \navowed policy of the company to permit none re- \ngarded in this light to remain. Similar methods of \ndealin«»with improper and undesirable characters \nhave since been not uncommon among the mining \ncommunities of the interior and the Pacific slope ; but \nit is somewhat singular that the rough camp-law there \npractised should find its earliest precedent on the first \npage of the records of Massachusetts Bay. \n\nperjury and blasphemy. Those who lied, drank, or danced were to \nbe publicly whipped. Heavy fines were laid upon such as swore or \nbroke the Sabbath. At the same time, any Romish priest returning^ \nto the colony after banishment would be put to death.\" {Lives of the \nArchbishops of Canterbury (New Series), vi. 293.) \n\n\n250 THE ASSAULT ON THE CHARTER. 1630. \n\nWhether Winthrop and his associates were or were \nnot justified in summarily banishing Morton in the \nway they did, the so doing was none the less, as events \nsubsequently showed, a serious blunder. Their posi- \ntion was wholly different from that of the struggling \nsettlers of three years earlier. As Endicott had al- \nready shown, the magistrates of the company were \nnow perfectly able to enforce every regulation, whether \nwise and necessary or the reverse, and they could sup- \npress summarily all disorder. Under these circum- \nstances they had much better have left Morton alone \nunder the harrow of their authority. At Mt. Wollas- \nton, he was at worst nothing more than a nuisance. \nThey shipped him off to England, and at Whitehall \nhe rose to the large proportions of a formidable en- \nemy. In New England he was under Winthrop's eye \nand within reach of Endicott's hand ; in London he \nbecame the ready tool of Gorges and insj^ired the \nmalignity of Laud. \n\nUpon his arrival in England, Morton was com- \nmitted to Exeter jail, but would not seem to have long \nremained there. He probably communicated at once \nwith Sir Ferdinando Gorges, letters from whom to \nhim were then on their way to New England, and Sir \nFerdinando undoubtedly had sufficient influence to \nprocure the prisoner's speedy release. In any event, \nthe next year he was at liberty and busily concerned \nin Gorges' intrigues for the overthrow of the Massa- \nchusetts colony ; and, in his efforts to accomj^lish that \nresult, he received the active assistance of two other \nvictims of New England's summary procedure. These \nwere Sir Christopher Gardiner and Philip Ratcliff. \n\nThere is no more singular and incongruous episode \nin the first history of Massachusetts, save only that of \n\n\n1630. SIR CHRISTOPHER GARDINER. 251 \n\nthe May-pole of Merry-Mount, than the episode of Sir \nChristopher Gardiner. Who the man was, whence or \nwhy he came, and whither he afterwards went, are \nmatters which have hitherto been wrapped in a mys- \ntery which is not likely ever to be solved. He seems \nto have been of a Gloucester family, and he made \nsome claim of kinship to that famous Stephen Gar- \ndyner. Bishop of Winchester in the days of Queen \nMary, whom Shakespeare has branded as a man of \n\" a cruel nature and a bloody.\" The kinship thus \nclaimed is not impossible ; though it could scarcely \nhave been so near as that of uncle and nephew, \nseeing that a full century, at least, must have in- \ntervened between the births of the two.^ However \nrelated, Gardiner was evidently a man of education \nand culture, and he had been an extensive traveller. \nHe appears to have received degrees, such as they \nwere, at some university ; and, having been a Protes- \ntant, he had, at some time before coming to New Eng- \nland, joined the Church of Rome. His title was of a \ndoubtful character, and at times he is spoken of as a \nKnight of the Holy Sepulchre, and then, again, as of \nthe Order of the Golden Melice ; but that he had a \nright to some title would seem to be established by \nthe fact that at a later day he was referred to in Eng- \nland by Gorges, and in official proceedings, as Sir \nChristopher Gardiner, Knight. \n\nWhencesoever he may have received his title, he \nfirst suddenly appeared in America, bearing it, about \na month before the arrival of Winthrop and his com- \n\n^ The Bishop of Winchester was born at Bury St. Edmunds in \n1483. (Campbell, Loid Chancellors, oh. xl.) Sir Christopher Gardi- \nner may have been forty-eig-ht at the time of his misadventures in \nNew England in 1631. (Young, Chron. of Mass. 335.) \n\n\n252 THE ASSAULT ON THE CHARTER. 1630-1. \n\npany, having been hurried over probably, an agent of \nGorges, in advance of the colonists, in some vessel of \nthe fishing fleet. If he was such an agent, — and there \ncan be little doubt of the fact, — the exact purpose of \nhis coming at this time can only be surmised. It is \nprobable that he was commissioned to act for Sir Fer- \ndinando, and to do whatever circumstances might re- \nquire, or occasion make possible, to keep the Gorges \nclaims alive. He brought over with him a servant or \ntwo, and was also accompanied by another companion, \n'^a comly yonge woman,\" as Bradford reports her, \nwhom he represented as being his cousin, but who \nseems, in fact, to have been his mistress. For some \ntime after his first arrival he does not appear to have \nbeen in any way molested. He came to the neighbor- \nhood of Boston Bay, and built for himself some sort of \na dwelling, though exactly where is not known. Dep- \nuty Governor Dudley simply says that it was seven \nmiles from Boston, and on the further side of a river. \nJudging by the direction which Gardiner afterwards \ntook in his flight, it would seem most probable that \nhe lived on the Neponset, not far from its mouth, and \nin close vicinity to the former \" Massachusetts fields.\" \nIf he did live there, he was in the midst of Gorges' \nadherents ; for Jeffreys and Morton were but a few \nmiles away, the former at Wessagusset and the latter \nat Mt. Wollaston, while Blackstone, Maverick and \nWalford were immediately across the bay about the \npeninsula of Shawmut. It would further seem that \nGardiner could hardly have failed to meet Morton in \nLondon during the summer of 1629, when both were \nthere and in constant communication with Gorges, \nwith whom, also, both were now in correspondence. \nThe presence of a man like Sir Christopher in the \n\n\n1630-1. A MUCH MARRIED KNIGHT. 253 \n\nneighborhood of a young settlement was an event \nwhich could not but attract notice. Furthermore, it \ncalled for explanation, as every one there had to give \nsome account of himself. Gardiner claimed that he \nhad come to the New World simply because he was \nweary of the Old, — that he sought here no prefer- \nment, but was willing to earn his living with the rest ; \nand he even professed himself as desirous of joining \nsome one of the churches. This account of himself \nseems to have been accepted as satisfactory ; perhaps, \nalso, the magistrates were too much occupied to give \nmuch thought to him, and, not impossibly, they were \nawaiting further developments from their friends and \nagents in England. These came at last in March, \n1631, about three months after Morton had been sent \naway, and from them it appeared that Gardiner was \nfar from being a man of godly life. Two women \nclaimed to be married to him, one of whom he had \nabandoned in Paris, the other in London. The for- \nmer had then, apparently in hunting him up, found \nthe latter, and a comparison of notes followed. It \nwas known to them that Gardiner had gone to New \nEngland, and naturally the agents of the Massachu- \nsetts company were applied to for information as to \nhis whereabouts. In due course of time letters from \nboth wives were transmitted to Governor Wiuthrop, \nadvising him of the facts in the case ; the first or \nParis wife desiring her husband's return to her in \nhopes of his conversion to better things, while the sec- \nond, or London, Lady Gardiner sought nothing less \nthan the knight's \" destruction for his foul abuse, and \nfor robbing her of her estate, of a part whereof she \nsent an inventory hither, comprising therein many \nrich jewels, much plate, and costly linen.\" This wife \n\n\n254 THE ASSAULT ON THE CHARTER. March, \n\nof Sir Christopher further advised the Puritan magis- \ntrates that tlie '' conily yonge woman whom he caled \nhis cousin \" was a '' known harlot,\" Mary Grove by \nname, whose immediate sending back to England, in \ncompany with her husband, she also greatly desired. \nAltogether it was a scandalous case. \n\nAccordingly, at a court held on February |, 1631, \nit was ordered that '' Sir Christopher Gardiner shal \nbe sent as prisoner into England by the shipp Lyon, \nno we returneing thither,\" and steps were taken for his \nimmediate apprehension. But it would seem that it \nwas not in vain Sir Christopher had travelled in many \nlands and joined himself to the Church of Rome ; for, \napparently, he now had his own means of knowing \nwhat information came out from England, and what \nwas proposed in Winthrop's council chamber. So he \nwas on the watch ; and when he saw the officers cross- \ning the river, half a mile from his abode, he quietly \nput on his weapons and betook himself to the w^oods. \nProbably Morton's experience was fresh in his mind. \nHis companion, Mary Grove, — if such was indeed \nher name, — the officers arrested, and took before the \nmagistrates for examination, who found her an unwill- \ning witness. A rigid questioning elicited little from \nher, and nothing at all to the detriment of Sir Chris- \ntopher, except the fact that she was not married to \nhim ; which, indeed, had not been pretended. An \norder was accordingly made \" to send her to the two \nwives in Old England, to search her further ; \" which \norder was not carried into effect. \n\nGardiner himself, meanwhile, lay concealed in the \nforest. The magistrates offered a reward for his cap- \nture, and, as the Massachusetts Indians asserted, gave \nthem authority to kill him. This is improbable ; but \n\n\n1631. FLIGHT AND CAPTURE. 255 \n\nin any event he had gone beyond their reach, and was \namong what was left of the Pokanoket tribe, who, be- \nfore the great sickness, occupied the region watered by \nthe Taunton River, and lying between that stream and \nMassachusetts Bay. He was accordingly within the \nPlymouth jurisdiction. It is not very clear what his \nplan was, if, indeed, he had any. The Massachusetts \nmagistrates thought that if he did not perish, as the \nchances were he would, from cold and hunger, he \nmight try to make his way to Piscataqua or the sta- \ntions in Maine ; but he himself seems afterwards \nto have intimated that his idea was to get to New \nYork and the Dutch settlement there. If such was \nhis purpose, he soon found it impracticable ; and \nso, for nearly a month, he wandered about in the \nneighborhood of the Taunton River, in what are \nnow the towns of Middleborough and Bridgewater. \nAt length some of the Indians living thereabouts, \nhearing of the price set upon him, went to Plymouth \nand told Governor Bradford where he was, asking if \nthey might kill him : — \n\n\" But the Governor tould them no, they should not kill \nhim, but watch their opportunitie and take him. And so \nthey did, for when they light of him by a river side, he got \ninto a canowe to get from them, and when they came nere \nhim, whilst he presented his peece at them to keep them of, \nthe streame carried the canow against a rock, and tumbled \nboth him and his peece and rapier into the water ; yet he \ngot out, and having a litle dagger by his side, they durst \nnot close with him, but getting longe pols, they soone beat \nhis dagger out of his hand, so he was glad to yeeld ; and \nthey brought him to the Governor. But his hands and \namies were swolen and very sore with the blowes they had \ngiven him. So he used him kindly, and sent him to a lodg- \ning wher his armes were bathed and anoynted, and he was \n\n\n256 THE ASSAULT ON THE CHARTER. May, \n\nquickly well againe, and blamed the Indeans for beating \nhim so much. They said that they did but a litle whip \nhim with sticks.\" \n\nMeanwhile word of Gardiner's capture was sent to \nWinthrop, and presently Captain John Underbill and \nhis lieutenant, Samuel Dudley, appeared to take charge \nof him. By them he was taken back in custody, \nreaching Boston on the ^ of ^. \n\nIt is not clear what now ensued. In his letter of \nacknowledgment to Bradford, written the day after \nUnderbill got back with Gardiner, Winthrop denied \nthat he ever \" intended any hard measure to him, but \nto respect and use him according to his qualitie ; \" \nand, though Gardiner seems to have been kept for a \ntime under close watch, he certainly never was tried or \nhad any sentence inflicted upon him, nor was he even \nshij^ped back to England ^ under the magistrate's \n\n1 In his notes to Winthrop (ed. 1853, 65, n.) Savage says that the \nmagistrates sent Mary Grove \" for examination to London, in the same \nship with Saltonstall, Coddington and Wilson.\" Palfrey (i. 329) says \nthat it was \" intended \" to send Gardiner over in that vessel, but \" the \nmaster of the Lion could not be persuaded to take charge of him, \nand it was some months longer before he could be gotten rid of.\" (lb. \n830.) \n\nThe thing is of no historical consequence whatever ; but these state- \nments are not correct. The Lion sailed from Salem April 1st (Young's \nChron. of Mass. 340, n.), and Gardiner did not reach Boston in custody \nuntil May 4th. Gardiner was not \" gotten rid of \" either then, or some \nmonths later, but, as Winthrop himself says, \" was kindly used, and \ndismissed in peace \" (ii. 232). Finally, Mary Grove not only stayed \nin New England, but married at Boston, and not improbably descend- \nants of hers may be living in Maine now. (in. Mass. Hist. Coll. viii. \n321.) \n\nBoth Savage's and Palfrey's error arose from allowing themselves \nto infer too much from the entry in the Colony Records, and from \nDudley's remark, in his letter to the Countess of Lincoln, that \" we \nhave taken order to send her to the two wives in England.\" Savage \ninferred that the woman was accordingly sent at once, naming the \n\n\n1631. ''AN ILL-WILLER.\" 251 \n\norder of February J^. On the contrary, when, six \nweeks later, a sentence savage in its severity was \nunder the pressure of Endicott's influence imposed on \nan offender, the execution of it was mitigated through \nthe intercession of Gardiner with Winthrop. \n\nA few days after this, on J^^i?, a shallop reached \nBoston from Piscataqua, bringing a package of letters \nto Sir Christopher under cover to Governor Winthrop. \nThe confidence thus reposed in him the governor did \nnot hesitate to violate, any more than, seven years be- \nfore, his brother governor at Plymouth had hesitated \nto inform himself of the contents of the letters written \nby the Rev. John Lyford. Doubtless, too, Winthrop \nheld himself fully justified in so doing, for not only \nwas Gardiner a professed \"ill-wilier\" to the colony, \nbut the magistrates, knowing that he belonged to the \nChurch of Rome, had inferred he was also an emissary \nof the Pope, and engaged in some dark conspiracy \nagainst \" the poore churches here.\" He was a snake \nhiding in the tender grass, and to circumvent him all \nmeans were justifiable. So, receiving the letters, \nWinthrop opened them. The true significance of \nGardiner's presence in New England was then re- \nvealed. The letters were from Sir Ferdinando Gorges, \nand addressed to Gardiner as his agent, and in them \nhe referred to his claim to the land included in the \n\n\nvery vessel she was sent in ; while Palfrey, including- Gardiner also in \nthe order, apparently confused his case for the moment with that \nof Morton, and the master of the Lion with the master of the Gift ; \nand, finally, in his general disapproval of Gardiner, caused the Boston \nmagistrates to be, as a matter of course, even more summary in their \nway of disposing of him than they actually were. \n\nIn regard to Sir Christopher Gardiner and Mary Grove, and the sin- \ngular body of poetry and romance which has g^rown up about them, \nsee the paper in the Proc. of Mass. Hist. Soc xx. 60-88. \n\n\n258 THE ASSAULT ON THE CHARTER. 1631-2. \n\npatent of 1622 to liis son Robert, upon which land \nthe whole settlement at Charlestown and the gov- \nernor's own farm of Ten Hills were located. A letter \nfrom Gorges to Morton was also in the package. \n\nIt would seem altogether probable that Winthrop, \nwho was never deficient in shrewdness, now began to \nrealize that it was better not to send Gorges' agent \nback to him full charged with anger and mischief. \nImjiressed by Gardiner's apparent rank, and Gorges' \nrecognition of it, the governor may also have thought \nthat it would be dangerous to provoke the knight too \nfar ; but, whatever the cause for leniency, matters \nwere not apparently further pressed against Sir Chris- \ntopher, nor was he long deprived of his liberty of ac- \ntion. About this time Thomas Purchase, who had \ncome over in 1624, and later had settled on the An- \ndroscoggin, in what is now the town of Brunswick, \nhad occasion to be in Boston. He was a man of good \nstanding, and, whatever her previous relations with \nGardiner may have been. Mistress Mary Grove found \nfavor in his eyes. They were accordingly married in \nBoston, some time in August, 1631. Purchase and his \nwife then returned to his home in Maine, accompanied \nby Gardiner, who, Winthrop says, was \" dismissed in \npeace,\" and professed himself under \" much engage- \nment for the great courtesy \" with which he had been \ntreated. He remained at Brunswick, or thereabouts \nin Maine, about a year longer, still acting, it is to be \npresumed, as the agent of Gorges ; and then, return- \ning to England, landed at Bristol on the |jj of Au- \ngust, 1632. His former companion apparently threw \nin her lot with New England, as Thomas Purchase's \nwife Mary is recorded as having died in Boston on \nthe 7th of January, 1656. \n\n\n1631. PHILIP RATCLIFF. 259 \n\nIt has been mentioned that in June, six weeks after \nhis capture on the Taunton River, Gardiner had ex- \nerted himself in Boston to secure the mitigation of a \nsentence in course of execution on a criminal. This \ncriminal was Philip Ratcliff, a servant of Governor \nMatthew Cradock. The offence for which he was \npunished was apparently committed at Salem, and, \nas recited in his sentence, was the *' uttering malli- \ntious and scandulous speeches against the government \nand the church \" there. In another place it is referred \nto as a \" most horible blasphemy,\" while Winthrop \nsays he was \" convict, ore tenus, of most foul scanda- \nlous invectives.\" The probability would seem to be \nthat the poor wretch was a bondsman in a strange \nland and under a hard rule, — a man of unsettled \nmind, and no Puritan or religionist, — a coarse, crazy, \nhomesick Englishman.^ Morton, no very reliable au- \nthority on the point, gives a characteristic turn to the \naffair. He says that Ratcliff was a member of the \nChurch of England : — \n\n\" And (to the end they might have some color against \nhim) some of them practised to get into his debt ; which \nhe, Hot mistrusting, suffered: and gave credit for such \ncommodity as he had sold at a price. When the day of \npayment came, instead of moneys, he being at that time \nsick and weak, and stood in need of the Beaver he had \ncontracted for, he had an epistle full of zealous exhortations \nto provide for the soul, and not to mind these transitory \nthings that perished with the body ; and to bethink himself \nwhether his conscience would be so prompt to demand so \ngreat a sum of Beaver as had been contracted for. . . . \nThe perusal of this (lap'd in the paper) was as bad as a \npotion to the creditor, — to see his debtor, Master Subtilety, \n\n^ In a letter from Edwards Howes to J. Winthrop, Jr., he is spoken \nof as \" the lunatic man.\" (Savage in note to Winthrop, i. 5(3.) \n\n\n2G0 THE ASSAULT ON THE CHARTER. June, \n\na zealous professor, as he thought, to deride liim in this ex- \ntremity, — that he could not choose, in admiration of the \ndeceit, but cast out these words : — • \n\n\" ' Are these your members ? — If they be all like these, \nI believe the Devil was the setter-up of their Church.' \" \n\nUnfortunately for him, Ratcliff had to do with En- \ndicott, and that magistrate seems at this time to have \nbeen having a great deal of trouble. His methods \nwere peculiar. A few weeks before, he had got in a \nwrangle with \"goodman\" Thomas Dexter at Salem. \nDexter is best known for his subsequent purchase of \nNahant, for a suit of clothes, from the Indian Black \nWilliam, who was afterwards hanged at Richmond's \nIsland for having a hand in the murder there of one \nWalter Bagnall, \" a wicked fellow [that] had much \nwronged the Indians.\" Dexter himself does not seem \nto have been a mild-mannered man ; for once, a few \nyears later, meeting on the road his neighbor Samuel \nHutchinson, between whom and himself there was \ntrouble, he jumped from his horse and bestowed on \nthe spot '* about twenty blows \" on his adversary's \n\" head and shoulders.\" However formidable he might \nbe to ordinary men like Hutchinson, Dexter was no \nmatch for Endicott, who, as the result of their wran- \ngle, gave him a beating out of hand. When called \nto account for thus executing his own process, the \nSalem magistrate had excused himself on the ground \nof excessive aggravation, declaring to Winthrop that \n\" if you had seen the manner of his carriage, with \nsuch daring of me with his arms on kembow, &c., it \nwould have provoked a very patient man.\" Neverthe- \nless, he expressed his regret at having punished Dex- \nter as he did, though he added significantly, — \" If it \nwere lawful to try it at blows, and he a fit man for \n\n\n1631. \"HIS ARMS ON KEMBOW.\" 261 \n\nme to deal with, you should not hear me complain.\" \nThe Court of Assistants took a different view of the \nmatter, and a jury impanelled at the session of April \n23d found the irate magistrate guilty of \"battry,\" \nand fined him forty shillings.^ \n\nThese proceedings, which had occurred but a short \ntime before, and must have occasioned no little talk \nat Salem, may have emboldened Ratcliff to set his \n\"arms on kembow,\" also, and to indulge in a little \n\" daring \" of Endicott on his\" own account. If such \nwas the case, he reckoned badly. The magistrate did \nnot take the law into his own hands, but, with char- \nacteristic vehemence, he did carry the case before the \nCourt of Assistants, demanding, as Morton states it, \nthat the accused should be '' made an example for all \ncarnall men, to presume to speake the least word that \nmight tend to the dishonor of the Church of Salem ; \nyea, the mother Church of all that holy Land.\" An \nexample he was certainly made ; for he was sentenced \nto be whipped, have his ears cut off, pay a fine of \nforty pounds, and to be banished without the jurisdic- \ntion. So far the sentence passed upon him admits of \nno doubt ; but Morton adds that he was also to have \nhis tongue bored through, his nose slit, and his face \nbranded, and it was in these last respects that, through \nGardiner's expostulations with Winthrop, the sen- \ntence was mitigated in execution. \n\nThat for angrily inveighing against the church gov- \nernment and the magistracy of Salem this man was \nwhipped and banished, after being mutilated and \nheavily fined, is matter of record, for Winthrop says \nhe was so sentenced, and that the sentence \" was pres- \nently executed.\" ^ There has been, and very deservedly, \n\n1 Lewis, Hist, of Lynn, 39 ; Palfrey, i. 327, n 2 History, i. 56. \n\n\n262 THE ASSAULT ON THE CHARTER. 1631. \n\na considerable amount of denunciation expressed by \nmodern historians of a certain sentence passed shortly \nafter this time on one William Prynne by the Court \nof Star Chamber, in England. Prynne had published \na book against the theatre, the tendency of which, ac- \ncording to Hallam, was more tiresome than seditious. \nFor this he was ordered to stand twice in the pillory, \nto be branded on the forehead, to lose both his ears, \nto pay a fine of £5,000, and to suffer perpetual im- \nprisonment. Prynne's sentence, like the very similar \none i^assed on Rateliff, was brutal in its cruelty. For \nit Archbishop Laud has most properly been held re- \nsponsible ; and for it he is now gibbeted in history : \nbut the historians of New England have not felt \ncalled upon to visit the same severity of criticism \nupon the punishment inflicted on Rateliff, or the ma- \ngistrates who ordered it.^ \n\n1 Palfrey, for instance, simply mentions the sentence in the ■words \nof the Records (vol. i. 351). Savage, in his notes to Winthrop, in- \ndulges in a note upon the subject, in which he finds himself \" com- \npelled to regret the cruelty of the punishment \" (i. GS). In describ- \ning affairs and events then taking place on the other side of the \nAtlantic, these same authorities declare that this was the time when \n\" the Star Chamber was rioting in barbarities.\" (Palfrey, i. 370.) In \nMassachusetts, \" Thomas Fox is sentenced to be whipped for uttering \nscandalous speeches against the court\" (ib. 326) ; Henry Lyon is \n\" whipped and banished for writing into England falsely and mali- \nciously against the execution of justice here \" (ib. 352), etc., and \nthese episodes are cited apparently to show how \" minute and multi- \nfarious were the cares of the primeval magistrates of Massachusetts \nBay.\" (Ib. 353.) In another place (ib. 563), the similarly barbarous \noutrages inflicted by Laud in the cases of Lilburne, Prynne and \nLeighton are described at length as examples of the \"exasperating \nand ix-tolerable abuses of ecclesiastical authority.\" But, while \n\" Laud's special province lay in the enforcement of severe laws of \nuniformity \" (ib. 562), Endicott, in pursuing an exactly similar course \ntowards Morton, Rateliff, Fox and Lyon, was protecting \"religious \nfreedom \" by measures which were \" simply self-defence,\" where tol- \nerance would have been \"public ruin.\" (Ib. 300.) \n\n\n1632. «i\\ro BISHOP, NO KING!'' 263 \n\nThus Morton, Gardiner and Ratcliff had been dealt \nwith in the space of a twelvemonth, — between Sep- \ntember, 1630, when the first was set in the stocks, \nand June, 1631, when the last stood at the whipping- \npost. A year later they were all in England, bitterly \ndenouncing the colony of Massachusetts Bay, and \nclamoring before the Privy Council for redress. \n\nNor, in dealing with them in a manner so summary \nand severe, could the Massachusetts magistrates have \nsupposed that they had to do merely with obscure per- \nsons whose complaints were most unlikely ever to \nreach, much less affect, those high in English authority. \nOn the contrary, it was well known that both Morton \nand Gardiner were in direct communication with \nGorges, and they, of course, would secure for more \nobscure complainants a ready access to him. Under \nthese circumstances, the course now pursued by Win- \nthrop and his associates was little less than an open \nand intentional defiance of the Council for New Enjr- \nland. Certainly the presence at this time in London \nof Morton, Gardiner and Ratcliff was a veritable \ngodsend to Gorges, who, in company with Captain \nJohn Mason, the patentee of New Hampshire, was \nthen exerting himself to the utmost to get the charter \nof the Massachusetts company revoked. The house \nin which Sir Ferdinando lived, as formerly it had \nbeen the point of gathering of all who had visited the \ncoast of America, or could add anything to the stock \nof information concerning it, now became a head- \nquarters for those who had any complaint to make or \ncharges to prefer against the magistracy of Massachu- \nsetts. \n\nThe attack was made on the 19th of December, \n1632, and was a formidable one. It assumed the \n\n\n264 THE ASSAULT ON THE CHARTER. Dec. \n\nshape of a petition to the Privy Council, asking the \nLords to inquire into the methods through which the \nroyal charter for the Massachusetts Bay had been \nprocured, and the abuses which had been practised \nunder it. Beside many injuries inflicted on individ- \nuals in their property and persons, the company was \nalso charged with seditious and rebellious designs, \nsubversive alike of church and state. The various \nallegations were based on the affidavits of three wit- \nnesses, — Morton, Ratcliif and Gardiner, — and be- \nhind the allegations was the active influence of Gorges. \nHad this petition been preserved, it could scarcely \nhave failed to throw a strange gleam of light on the \nother and now unseen side of early Massachusetts \nhistory ; unfortunately, it is lost. It would have \nbeen more peculiarly interesting from its curious in- \nsight into the future. In referring to it afterwards, \nWinthrop said that it contained '' some truths misre- \npeated.\" Apart from severe judgments on individual \nwrong-doers, taking the form of frequent whippings, \nsetting in the stocks, branding, ear-cropping, fining \nand banishment, the real burden of charge lay in the \nalleged disposition of the colony to throw off its alle- \ngiance to the mother country. There was in that wil- \nderness already a church without a bishop ; and it was \nasserted in the petition that there was soon to be a \nstate without a king. \n\nA harsh coloring was, doubtless, given to every- \nthing. So far as rebellion or independence was con- \ncerned, nothing is more certain than that neither the \nleaders nor the common people of the Massachusetts \ncolony then entertained any thought of it ; but it is \nequally certain that the leaders, at least, were a stub- \nborn, unyielding race of Commonwealth's-men, stern \n\n\n1632. THE HEARING. 265 \n\nof temper and with bitter tongues, who did continually \nrail against state and church. That even now they \nonly needed a little more consciousness of strength to \nripen on occasion into rebels, was probably asserted \nin the lost document ; and, however Winthrop might \ndeny it, the developments of three years later showed \nconclusively that this assertion was true. In the light \nof their sympathies and sufferings, Gardiner and \nMorton probably saw the real drift of what they had \nheard said and seen done in New England a good \ndeal more clearly than Winthrop. \n\nThe result of the Gorges and Gardiner petition was \nthe appointment of a committee of twelve Lords of \nthe Council, to whom the whole matter was referred \nfor investigation and report. The committee was em- \npowered to send for persons and papers, and a long \nand apparently warm hearing ensued. The friends of \nthe company bestirred themselves at once. Cradock \nwas, of course, in England ; for, though he was at \none time governor of the company, he never went to \nAmerica. Sir Richard Saltonstall was also there, \nhaving returned in April of the year before. With \nthem was John Humphrey, formerly deputy-governor, \nand one of the original patentees of the company, \nwho had married a daughter of the Earl of Lincoln \nand sister of the Lady Arbella, and was then prepar- \ning to come out to New England.^ Cradock, also, \n\n1 John Humphrey was subsequently one of the early settlers of \nSwampscott. His wife, the Lady Susan, was never contented to live \nin America, and at a later day the two returned to England, leaving \ntheir children, among whom were ungrown daughters, here, — a pro- \nceeding which ultimately resulted in one of those loathsome scandals \nwith the details of which the pages of Winthrop and Bradford are \nunpleasantly replete. The early settlers of New England were a \nhighly moral and correct race. They were none the less men and wo- \n\n\n266 THE ASSAULT ON THE CHARTER. Dec. \n\nwas Ratcliff's master, which fact was not without its \nbearing on the case. These three filed a written an- \nswer to the complaint ; and at the hearing they re- \nceived further assistance from Emanuel Downing, \nWinthrop's brother-in-law and a resident in London, \nand from Thomas Wiggin, who lived at Piscataqua, \nand had often been in Boston, but now most oppor- \ntunely chanced to be in England.^ \n\nAs Gorges had learned to his cost three years be- \nfore, when at a critical moment the charter had been \nevoked, as by swift magic, from the innermost re- \ncesses of the palace, the company of Massachusetts \nBay was by no means without influence in high quar- \nters ; and now recourse was had to every means of \nprivately influencing the members of the committee. \nThese unseen agencies were, in the London of the \ntime of Charles I., and at his court, far more potent \nthan written answers or counter allegations; nor, in \nthe present instance, did the friends of the company \nlabor in vain, for, to the astonishment of every one, \nthe result of the proceedings was, that Gorges and his \nassociates took nothing by them. The committee re- \nported against any interference at that time, some- \nwhat sophistically attributing to the \" faults or fancies \nof particular men \" those grounds of complaint which \ndid not admit of explanation, but which they declared \n\nmen ; and *' wikednes being' here more stopped by strict laws, and the \nsame more nerly looked unto, so as it cannot rune in a comone road of \nliberty as it would, and is inclined, it searches every wher, and at last \nbreaks out wher it g-etts vente.\" (Bradford, 385.) The details of \nthe Humphrey scandal are given in Winthrop (ii. 45). See, also, \nLewis, Lynn (p. 75), in which there is a very droll plate, supposed to \nrepresent Lady Susan Humphrey in the act of parting from her \nchildren. \n\n1 ni. Mass. Hist. Coll viii. 320. \n\n\n1632. \"JiV ABUNDANTE REJOYSINGr 267 \n\nwere \"in due time to be inquired into.\" This report, \nwhen made, was approved by King Charles, who had \nevidently also been labored with through the proper \nchannels, inasmuch as he seems to have gone out of \nhis way to further threaten with condign punishment \nthose \"who did abuse his governor and the planta- \ntion.\" \n\nThe immediate danger which threatened the infant \nsettlement was thus averted : but the cloud, though it \nproved a passing one, had for a time looked black and \nominous, nor was the more than possible outcome of \nit underestimated in Massachusetts. This Winthrop \ngave proof of through his actions ; for when, in May, \n\n1633, exact intelligence of the final action of the Coun- \ncil reached him, he at once wrote a letter gravely jubi- \nlant thereon to Governor Bradford at Plymouth, in- \nforming him of the glad tidings, and inviting him to \njoin \" in a day of thanks-giving to our mercifull God, \nwho, as he hath humbled us by his late correction, so \nhe hath lifted us up, by an abundante rejoj^sing, in \nour deliverance out of so desperate a danger.\" ^ \n\n1 Bradford, 297. See, also, for facts and authorities connected with \nthe Council for New Eng^land and the conflict over King- Charles' charter \nof 1629, Mr. Deane's two papers, \" The Council for New England,\" \n\"NVinsor, Nar. and Crit. Hist, of Am. iii. ch. ix. ; and \" The Strug-gle \nto Maintain the Charter of King- Charles I.,\" Mem. Hist. Boston, i. ch. x. \n\n\nCHAPTER XVI. \n\nTHE ASSAULT RENEWED. \n\nSir Christopher Gardiner now disappears from \nthe record. After the Privy Council hearing of Jan- \nuary, 1633, his name is no more met with, and not \nimprobably he again wandered off on his travels. \nPhilip Ratcliff, on the contrary. Gorges would seem \nto have kept within easy reach, and at a later day he \nappeared again as a witness before the Council, — at \nleast Thomas Morton says that he did so, and that on \nthis occasion \" he was comforted by their lordships \nwith the cropping of Mr. Winthrop's ears.\" ^ Morton \nalso was himself instant, active and persistent, for to \nreturn to New England remained henceforth the dream \nof his life ; but, as he eould hope to return there only \nafter the ruin of the Massachusetts Bay colony, he \nnow devoted himself to the work of accomplishing that \nruin. To that end he became a hanger-on of Sir Fer- \ndinando Gorges, whose fortunes for the rest of his life \nhe seems in some degree to have shared ; and, in shar- \ning them, he at one time not without reason believed \nthat the hour of triumph and of revenge was for him \nclose at hand. \n\nThis was in 1634. During the fifteen months which \nhad then passed since the attack on the charter in the \nwinter of 1632-3, events had moved rapidly on both \nsides of the Atlantic. In New England, the colony \n\n1 Winthrop, ii. *191. \n\n\n1634. BOSTON TOWN. 269 \n\nof Massachusetts Bay had taken firm hold of the soil, \nand already far exceeded in wealth and population the \nolder settlement at Plymouth. In place of the strag- \ngling planters who lived in solitude about the bay in \n1629, there were now upwards of four thousand Eng- \nlish people distributed among twenty Massachusetts \nhamlets. Boston had grown into the semblance of a \ntown, though it was still little more than a collection \nof log-huts and rude frame-houses built in straggling \nfashion on streets and lanes laid out regardless of \nsymmetry, as the rough nature of the ground and the \nuneven holdings made convenient. The principal edi- \nfice was the meeting-house, as the place of worship was \ncalled, — a large, square building made out of rough- \nhewn lumber, the interstices of which were sealed with \nmud. It had no spire, and its sloping roof, like those \nof aU the dwellings, was thatched with coarse grass cut \nfrom the marshes ; it stood on one side, and close to \nthe head of the short main street which led down to \nthe principal wharf or landing-place of the town. \nWinthrop, still governor, though his hold on the office \nwas weakening, dwelt not far from the meeting-house \nand nearly opjDosite the town spring, about which the \nbetter houses clustered. Above and behind the little \ntown, in which may have lived some six or eight hun- \ndred souls, rose the bare, round top of Sentry Hill, \non the back side of which, facing Charles River and \nthe west, Blackstone still dwelt alone. The days of \nfamine, sickness and trial were ended. The settlers \nhad grown accustomed to their new surroundings, and \nthe place was an active and prosperous one, — the \nseat of government of a colony which was full of \nconfidence in its capacity to take care of itself in any \ncontingencies likely to arise. \n\n\n270 THE ASSAULT RENEWED. 1634. \n\nOn the other side of the Atlantic, King Charles \nhad now fairly entered upon his struggle with the peo- \nple of England. In March, 1629, he had dissolved \nhis third parliament ; nor did he now mean ever to \ncall another. He proposed to govern his kingdom as \nPhilip II. had before governed Spain, and as Louis \nXIV. subsequently governed France. The king was \nto be the state. To bring this about he was having \nrecourse to various extra-constitutional tribunals, — \nthe Council of the North, the Star Chamber, the Court \nof High Commission. Questions relating to the colo- \nnies had hitherto been disposed of in the Privy Coun- \ncil, for they did not frequently arise and were regarded \nas of little account ; but recently the large emigra- \ntion to New England of ''persons known to be ill- \naffected and discontented, as well with the civil as \necclesiastical government,\" had excited attention, and \nwas looked upon with alarm. It was regarded as the \ngathering of a new plague-spot, from which deadly \ncontagion might spread ; for, both in Old and in New \nEngland fear was at the root of intolerance to a \ngreater degree than either intellectual conviction or \ntheological hate.^ So, when in February, 1634, the \nfact was brought to the notice of the Council that \nseveral vessels loaded with passengers and stores \ndestined for New England were then lying in the \nThames, an order-in-council was issued staying the \nsailing of these vessels, and calling upon Cradock to \nproduce the company's charter. Cradock replied that \nthe charter was not in his possession, — that Winthrop \nhad taken it with him to New England four years \nbefore. He was directed to send for it at once. \nMeanwhile the friends of the company in the Coun- \ncil prevailed so far that the vessels were allowed to \n1 Gardiner, England, 1603-1642, vii. 318; viii. 164-8. \n\n\nIQM. A ROYAL COMMISSION. 271 \n\nsail, their masters entering into bonds to have the \nBook of Common Pra^'er used, during the voyage, at \nmorning and evening service. \n\nAs s]3ecial tribunals were now greatly in vogue, it \nwas in certain quarters deemed best to organize one \nto take charge of colonial matters. The idea of such \na tribunal seems to have grown out of the February \norder-in-council, and it was designed almost exclu- \nsively for the management of the affairs of New Eng- \nland, where \" scandals \" both in church and state were \nmost rife. The year before, Laud had been made \nArchbishop of Canterbury, and now he was engaged \nwith a whole heart in his lifelong war on Puritan- \nism. In the Star Chamber and the High Commission \nhis influence was supreme ; and when, on the rrfu of \nApril, a commission passed the great seal establishing \na board with almost unlimited powers to regulate plan- \ntations, he was naturally at the head of it. There \nwould even seem to be good reason for supposing that \nthis tribunal was created at Laud's suggestion, and in \nconsequence of the unsatisfactory action of the Privy \nCouncil in the matter of the vessels, two months be- \nfore. A further inference from what went before and \nwhat followed is, that Laud's action in the matter was \nshaped and directed by Gorges. In other words, the \norganization of this colonial board, through Laud's in- \nfluence and with Laud supreme in it, was Gorges' first \nmove in the new attack he was now meditating on \nthe charter of the Massachusetts Bay. \n\nThe historians of New England have exercised \nmuch ingenuity in devising reasons of state why King \nCharles granted the charter of 1629 at all, — why the \nattack upon it of 1632 came to nothing, — and why, \ntwo years later, it was renewed with so different result. \n\n\n272 THE ASSAULT RENEWED. 1634. \n\n\"Considering the character of the King on the one hand, \nand the provisions of the charter on the other, it seems ne- \ncessary to conclude, either that its tenor was not well known \nto him when it received his assent, or else that his purpose \nin granting it was to encourage the departure of Puritans \nfrom England, at the time when he was entering upon \nmeasures which might bring on a dangerous conflict with \nthat party. . . . \n\n\" The charter of the Massachusetts Company had passed \nthe seals almost simultaneously with the King's ^.nnuncia- \ntion, after an exciting controversy with tliree Parliaments, \nof his purpose to govern without Parliaments in future. It \nmight well appear to him, that, in the contests which per- \nhaps were to follow, his task would be made easier if num- \nbers of the patriots could be tempted to absent themselves \nfrom the kingdom ; and when he should have succeeded, \nand the laws and liberties of England should be stricken \ndown, there would be nothing in his past grants to embar- \nrass him in his treatment of the exiles, and his arm would \nbe long enough to reach and strong enough to crush them \nin their distant hiding place. Or, if no scheme so definite \nas this was entertained, the grant of the charter, inviting \nattention to a distant object, might do something for his \npresent relief, by breaking up the dangerous concentration \nof the thoughts of the Puritans on the state of affairs at \nhome.\" ^ \n\nIn writing history, as in dealing with the actual \naffairs of life, it is as dangerous to see too far as \nnot to see far enough ; and the historian who philoso- \nphizes as to the possible deep motives of state which \nmay have influenced the action of a ruler, always pre- \nsupposes that the ruler in question was indeed in- \nfluenced by deep motives. Of this in the case of \nCharles I. there is no evidence. It would have been \n1 Palfrey, i. 391-2. \n\n\n1634. CHARLES I. 273 \n\nnatural enough that broad and far-sighted considera- \ntions like those suggested should have entered into \nthe mind and influenced the policy of Wentworth, for \nhe was a man of capacity, a statesman of the Riche- \nlieu and Bismarck type. Laud also, though not a \nstatesman, was a man who in his public action worked \non a plan and to a given result. But there is nothing \nto connect Wentworth at any time with the course \npursued by Charles in reference to the plantations in \nNew England ; and not until 1634 did Laud give any \nattention to them. In February, 1634, the Primate \nbecame the head of the tribunal then organized to at- \ntend to colonial affairs, and from that time forward \nthe royal policy was clearly enough defined. A guid- \nance both of head and hand becomes then apparent ; \nbut in 1629, when the charter was granted, Bucking- \nham, who was as incapable of a consecutive policy as \nCharles himself, had been assassinated only the year \nbefore, and the place beside the throne made vacant by \nhis death was not yet filled. Wentworth, just bought \noff from the patriot side, was busy in the North. \nLaud, still Bishop of London, was occupied with his \necclesiastical reforms. Thus, for the time being, the \nKing governed by his own hand. \n\nThe character of Charles I. has been sufficiently \ndiscussed, nor is it necessary to speak of it here. \nAn ordinary English gentleman of his time, correct \nin deportment and gifted with no little ajjpreciation \nof finer thino^s, he walked according: to his lig-hts in \nthe sphere in which he was born. Unfortunately for \nhim, he was born in the purple. Narrow-minded by \nnature, he was, except in matters of deportment, ut- \nterly unequal to his position ; but this he never real- \nized. Accordingly, feeling himself a king, he never \n\n\n274 THE ASSAULT RENEWED. 1634. \n\nquestioned his own capacity to rule ; and, after the \nmanner of small, obstinate men, believing in few \nthings he believed in them intensely. Chief among \nthese was his own right divine. At his court all \nthings went by royal favor. As a matter of course, \nsuch a very finite creature as he being the source of all \nbounties, the palace became from top to bottom a nest \nof corrupt intrigues ; and, under these circumstances, \nit almost goes without saying that considerations of \nstate policy had nothing to do with such trifles as the \ngranting of the charter of the Massachusetts Bay \ncompany, or the outcome of the first assault upon it. \nAs Allerton, while representing the Plymouth people \nin London at this very time, found out to their cost, \nwhen any favor at Whitehall was wanted, \"by the \nway many riddles must be resolved, and many locks \nmust be opened with the silver, nay, the golden key.\" \nSo, when the charter of the Massachusetts company \nwas granted, it was probably granted without partic- \nular consideration. The Earl of Warwick and Lord \nDorchester, or more probably the Earl of Warwick \nthrough Lord Dorchester, asked for it, and the in- \nfluence of the latter at court easily secured it. It \nmay well be questioned whether the King gave a \nmoment's serious thought to the matter. His idea \nof New England was probably much what ours of \nAlaska is now. It was a remote wilderness beyond \nthe seas ; and if any one, especially Puritans, wanted \nto try the experiment of living there, they were wel- \ncome to do so. They might also manage their affairs \nin their own way. \n\nIn like manner, after the charter was thus carelessly \ngi'anted, and when the attack of 1632 was made, it \nagain became a mere question of influence at court. \n\n\n16^4. COURT INTRIGUES. 275 \n\nThe King himself neither knew nor cared anything \nabout the matter. His thoughts were absorbed in \nquestions of tonnage and poundage, and royal monop- \nolies ; he was pondering over the war with Spain, and \nwhat Wentworth was doing in Ireland ; he was devis- \ning vengeance against the opposition in England, and \nmeditating upon the church system he meant to intro- \nduce into Scotland. So when Gardiner's and Mor- \nton's complaint was stirred before the Privy Council \nby Gorges, the decision turned not upon the right or \nwrong of the matter, or any possibilities of future \nempire beyond the seas, but it was a struggle for in- \nfluence in the King's audience chamber. Cradock \nand Saltonstall and Downing there showed themselves \nbetter befriended than Gorges ; and so the latter now \nsuffered another \" shrowd check.\" \n\nBut in this field of operations Sir Ferdinando was \nan opponent not safe to despise. The palace of White- \nhall was a house with many ante-chambers, and if \nWarwick had influence in some of these, Gorges could \nsecure it in others. He had been working through \ninfluence at court all his life. By means of it he had \nextricated himself from the Essex treason in 1601 ; \nand if influence at court could have brought it about, \nhe would have become the ruler of a trans- Atlantic do- \nmain in 1623. As he had been in 1601 and in 1623, so \nwas he in 1634. His plan of operations was, too, well \nconceived. He still meant to possess for himself and \nhis descendants a principality in America, and to rule \nthere as a royal governor. To bring this about he \nhad to be strong at court ; and he went to work to \nmake himself strong at court just as he had gone to \nwork twelve years before. He had then sought to in- \nfluence James through Buckingham. He now influ- \n\n\n276 THE ASSAULT RENEWED. 1634. \n\nencecl Charles through Laud. He secured the ear of \nthe Primate, who hated a Puritan ; and once he had \nsecured the ear of the Primate he was sure of that of \nthe King. \n\nFor thirty years Gorges had been ruining himself \nin futile efforts to plant New England ; and now the \nplanting of New England was accomplishing itseK \nnot only without any aid from him, but in a way \nwhich threatened his interests. As he expressed it, \n\" people of all sorts flocked thither in heaps ; \" and \nthose people, not content with refusing to recognize \nhis title to a domain, mutilated and abused his agents, \nand drove them into exile. The Council for New \nEngland was clearly not equal to the task of dealing \nwith such a crisis as this. It was necessary to pro- \nceed through some other agency, — to have recourse to \nnew expedients. The following scheme seems accord- \ningly to have been devised : — The entire territory \nstill held under the grant of 1620, extending from \nMaine to New Jersey, was to be again divided in sev- \neralty among the remaining members of the Council \nfor New England, and the letters-patent of the Coun- \ncil were then to be surrendered to the King, who \nwas to confirm the division just made. The Coun- \ncil being thus relegated to the domain of things for \nwhich no further use exists, the King was to assume \nthe direct government of the whole territory, and ap- \npoint a governor-general to rule over it. Sir Ferdi- \nnando Gorges was then to be appointed the King's \ngovernor-general. He would thus go out to his prov- \nince clothed with full royal authority ; and the ques- \ntion would then be, not between the settlers of \nMassachusetts Bay, armed with a charter from the \nKing, and that \" carcass in a manner breathless \" the \n\n\n1634. A WELL-DEVISED SCHEME. 277 \n\nCouncil for New England, but between a small body \nof disobedient colonists and the King's own represen- \ntative. It was a well-devised scheme. \n\nHere, at last, was a definite policy in regard to New \nEngland, and it was a policy which fitted in natu- \nrally with the great scheme of prerogative government \nwhich Wentworth and Laud were then welding into \nshape for the whole British Empire. It was \" Thor- \nough \" applied to the colonies. Gorges was to do on \na small scale in Massachusetts what Wentworth was \nalready doing on a large scale in Ireland. The first step \nin carrying out the new policy — that policy which had \nits origin in the greed of Gorges, and found its motive \nforce in Laud's bigotry — was the appointment of the \nroyal commission for regulating plantations, with the \nArchbishop at its head. Save the lack of enforcing \npower, there was no limit to its authority. It could \nrevoke charters ; it could remove and appoint govern- \nors ; it could even break settlements up if deemed \nbest ; it could inflict punishment upon all offenders, \neither by imprisonment \" or by loss of life or mem- \nber.\" It was, in fact, a commission after Charles' \nown heart, for it represented Right Divine. In it the \nkingly authority stood out clean cut and absolute ; no \nearthly power intervened between the people and the \nroyal will. The letters-patent bore date the 10th of \nApril, 1634, and the new tribunal provided for in \nthem was not slow in proceeding to its appointed \nwork; while the extent of Gorges' influence in it \nmay be inferred from the fact that three weeks later \nThomas Morton, Gorges' dependant, wrote to New \nEngland that the Massachusetts charter had already \nbeen brought in view, and, for manifest abuses there \ndiscovered, declared to be void. He further stated \n\n\n278 THE ASSAULT RENEWED. April, \n\nthat a general governor was to be sent over at once, \nand with him he, Morton, was to return to America. \nIt is not quite clear whether the decisive hearing \nwhich resulted in this decision took place before the \nPrivy Council and led to the appointment of the \ncommission, or whether it took place before the com- \nmission itself.^ Wherever it took place, it seems to \nhave savored strongly of Star Chamber and High \nCommission methods ; and Cradock, Saltonstall and \nHumphrey had there learned that influences were \nat work not to be controlled by them. Indeed, the \nfirst and last named would seem to have been be- \nrated by Laud, in true High Commission stjde, as \na couple of impostors and knaves, and they \" had \ndeparted the council chamber with a pair of cold \nshoulders.\" Ratcliff had again told his tale of wrong \nand shown his scars to a tribunal, the members of \nwhich, though not slow themselves in cropping of ears, \nseem to have looked upon that form of mutilation \nas a prerogative of their own. So far as Ratcliff \n\n1 R'^ferring to the failure of the complaint to the Privy Council in \n1634. Morton's language is : — \"I have at this time taken more deliber- \nation and brought the matter to a better pass. And it is thus brought \nabout, that the King hath taken the business into his own hands. The \nMassachusetts patent, by order of the Council, was brought in view ; \nthe privileges there granted well scanned upon, and at the Council \nBoard in public, and in the presence of Sir Richard Saltonstall and \nthe rest, it was declared, for manifest abuses there discovered, to be \nvoid. The King hath reassumed the whole business into his own \nhands, appointed a committee of the board, and given order for a \ngeneral governour of the whole territory to be sent over. The com- \nmission is passed the privy seal ; I did see it, and the same was 1 mo. \nMaii sent to the Lord Keeper to have it pass the great seal for confir- \nmation\" (Winthrop, ii. *190.) \n\nThis letter was dated the 1st of May. The hearing was presum- \nably before the Privy Council, and the committee here spoken of \nwas the Laud Commission. \n\n\n1634. THE CROPPING OF EARS. 279 \n\nwas concerned, they certainly had the will, and they \ndid not seem to lack the power, to avenge him. He \nhad described, apparently, the forms of marriage and \nthe methods of preaching in use at Boston. It is. \nneedless to say that this had acted as a hot incentive \non the Primate, who seems thereupon to have flamed \nforth in one of his outbursts of nervous anger, in \nwhich \" he looked as though blood would have gushed \nout of his face, and did shake as if he had been \nhaunted with an ague fit.\" In his wrath he now on the \nspot promised the witness, in retaliation for liis own \nears, the cropping of those of Governor Winthrop. \nFortunately for John Winthrop and Jghn Endicott \nthe ocean rolled between Canterbury and themselves. \nThe production of the charter had already been \nordered by a vote of the Privy Council of the 21sfc of \nFebruary, — two months and a half before. Of this \nthe Lord Conuuissioners were, of course, aware. In \nobedience to the injunction then laid upon him, Cra- \ndock had transmitted the order of the Council, accom- \npanied by a letter of his own to Winthrop, who \nreceived both letter and order in July. Then began \nthat struggle for the possession of the charter which \ncontinued for fifty years, and until the decisions of an \nEnglish court had destroyed its political value. But \nthe charter never went back to England. When this \nfirst demand for it reached him, Winthrop was no \nlonger governor, for at the election in the previous \nMay, Dudley had been chosen to supersede him. The \nnew governor laid Cradock's letter, together with the \norder of the Council, before the Assistants, and after \ngrave deliberation it was resolved to procrastinate. \nSo the letter was treated as an unofficial one, and as \nsuch answered to Cradock ; but as for the charter, it \n\n\n280 THE ASSAULT RENEWED. 1634 \n\nwas replied that it could be transmitted only under \nthe authority of the General Court of Massachusetts, \nwhich was not to meet until September. This missive \nwas then entrusted to Governor Edward Winslow, of \nPlymouth, who at that time went out as joint agent \nof the two colonies, reaching London in the early \nautumn. \n\nIt was in Winslow's power only to say that he had \nnot brought the charter ; but its production does not \nseem to have been again immediately called for. Pos- \nsibly the Lords Commissioners may have expected that \nthe General Court would at its September session \norder it to be sent over ; more probably, in view of \nthe course which had then been decided upon, an ex- \namination of it was no longer considered necessary. \nThe next spring, that of 1635, had been fixed upon \nby Gorges and Mason as the time for decisive action, \nwhen the charter was to be vacated, and Gorges, in \nthe mean time appointed governor-general, was to go \nout to New England with a force sufficient to compel \nobedience. But all this implied a considerable equip- \nment, and consequent outlay of money. Shipping \nhad in the first place to be provided, and a large vessel \nwas accordingly put upon the stocks. Rumor said, \nalso, that the new governor-general was to take out \nwith him a force of no less than a thousand soldiers. \nWhether this was true or not, there can be little doubt \nthat all through the winter of 1634-5 active prepara- \ntions were going on. \n\nMeanwhile Winslow had other business in hand \nwhich took him before the Lords Commissioners of \nPlantations. He laid before them a petition on be- \nhalf of the colonies for authority to resist certain \nDutch and French encroachments, — a proceeding \n\n\n1634. \"A SMOOTH TONGUED FELLOW:' 281 \n\nwhich the cautious Winthrop thought not well ad- \nvised, as it might seem to imply that such action on \nthe part of the colonies needed to be authorized, and \nin this way it could be drawn into a precedent. Wins- \nlow none the less presented his petition, and several \nhearings were had upon it. Fully informed as to \neverything that went on before the Lords Commission- \ners, Gorges did not view this move with favor. It \nlooked to military or diplomatic measures to be taken \nwithin his proposed jurisdiction, and the conduct of \nwhich should clearly be entrusted to him as governor- \ngeneral. He accordingly went to work to circumvent \nWinslow, and what ensued threw a great deal of light \non other things which took place at that time. It \nshowed what a puppet Laud in these matters was in \nGorges' hands, and how cunningly the latter pulled \nthe strings. \n\nWinslow, who long afterwards was described by \nSamuel Maverick ^ as \" a Smooth tongued Cunning \nfellow, who soon got himselfe into Favour of those \nthen in Supreame power, against whom it was in \nvaine to strive,\" apparently managed well the busi- \nness he now had in hand. His suit prospered ; for he \nsubmitted to the Lords a plan for accomplishing the \nend desired, without any charge being imposed on the \nroyal exchequer, and was on the point of receiving a \nfavorable decision. Suddenly the voice of the Arch- \nbishop was heard. What followed was intensely char- \nacteristic, but Bradford best tells the story : — \n\n\" When Mr. Winslow should have had his suit granted, \n(as indeed upon the point it was), and should have been \nconfirmed, the Archbishop put a stop upon it, and Mr- \n\n^ Proc. Mass. Hist. Soc. Series II. i. 240. \n\n\n282 THE ASSAULT RENEWED. Feb. \n\nWinslow, thinking to get it freed, went to the board again ; \nbut the Birshop, Sir Ferdinando, and Captain Mason, had, \nas it seems, procured Morton (of whom mention is made \nbefore, and his base carriage,) to complain ; to whose com- \nplaints Mr. Winslow made answer to the good satisfaction \nof the board, who checked Morton and rebuked him sharply, \nand also blamed Sir Ferdinando Gorges and Mason, for \ncountenancing him. But the Bishop had a further end and \nuse of his presence, for he now began to question Mr. \nWinslow of many things ; as of teaching in the church \npublicly, of which Morton accused him, and gave evidence \nthat he had seen and heard him do it ; to which Mr. Wins- \nlow answered, that some time (wanting a minister) he did \nexercise his gift to help the edification of his brethren, when \nthey wanted better means, which was not often. Then \nabout marriage, the which he also confessed, that, having \nbeen called to the place of magistracy, he had sometimes \nmarried some ; and further told their lordships that mar- \nriage was a civil thing, and he found nowhere in the Word \nof God that it was tied to ministry. Again, they were \nnecessitated so to do, having for a long time together at first \nno minister ; besides it was no new thing, for he had been \nso married himself in Holland, by the magistrates in their \nState-House. But in the end (to be short), for these things, \nthe Bishop, by vehement importunity, got the board at last \nto consent to his commitment ; so he was committed to the \nFleet, and lay there seventeen weeks, or thereabouts, before \nhe could get to be released. And this was the end of this \npetition and this business.\" \n\nThe friends and agents of the colonies being thus \ndisposed of, — Cradock, Saltonstall and Humphrey \nhaving departed the Council Chamber witli *' a pair of \ncould shoulders,\" and Winslow, the \" Smooth tongued \nCunning fellow, . . . against whom it was in vaine \nto strive,\" being laid safely by the heels in the Fleet \nprison, — the way for Gorges seemed clear. His plan \n\n\n1G35. NEW ENGLAND AGAIN APPORTIONED. 283 \n\nwas now rapidly developed. At a meeting of those \nstill composing the Council, held at Lord Gorges' \nhouse on the 3d of February, a redivision of the sea- \ncoast of New England was agreed upon. Sir Ferdi- \nnando and Captain Mason both were present, but, \nsince the Gardiner-Ratcliff attack on the Massachu- \nsetts Bay company two years before, the Earl of War- \nwick had apparently withdrawn from all connection \nwith Gorges.^ He was not, therefore, included in the \nredivision. This, like the original partition at the \nGreenwich lot-drawing of 1623, covered the entire \nNorth Atlantic coast, from New Jersey to Nova Sco- \ntia, all which was now divided into eight parcels and \nassigned to as many persons, among whom were the \nMarquis of Hamilton, and the Earls of Lenox, Surrey, \nCarlisle and Stirling. The coast of Massachusetts, \nfrom Narragansett Bay to Salem, fell to Lord Gorges ; \nSir Ferdinando received Maine as his share ; and \nCaptain Mason, New Hampshire and Cape Ann. \n\nThe division thus agreed upon was to take effect \nsimultaneously with the surrender of the charter. Ten \nweeks later, at another meeting at Lord Gorges' \nhouse, a paper was read and entered upon the records, \nin which the reasons for surrendering the charter were \nstated at length. At a subsequent meeting, held on \nthe 26th of April at the Earl of Carlisle's chamber \nat Whitehall, a petition to the King was submitted \nand approved, praying that separate patents might \nbe issued securing to the associates in severalty the \ndomains assigned them. A declaration from the King \nwas also then read, in which his intention of appoint- \ning Sir Ferdinando Gorges governor-general was for- \nmally announced ; for the Primate of England and \n\n1 Winsor, Nar. and Crit. Hist, of Am. iii, 309, 370. \n\n\n284 THE ASSAULT RENEWED. July, \n\nChief of the Lords Commissioners for Plantations, \nspeaking by the mouth of the King, did not propose \n'' to suffer such numbers of people to runn to mine, \nand to religious intents to languish for want of timely \nremedye and soveraigne assistance.\" New England \nwas thus once more platted out among certain of the \nnobility and gentry about King Charles' court ; and \nit only remained to pass the deeds before proceed- \ning to eject the present occupants, — unless, indeed, \nthese last should recognize the new titles, and make \nsuch compromise with their possessors as might yet be \npossible. In the matter of perfecting the new titles, \nmatters were not allowed to rest. The details of the \ndivision had been arranged on the 3d of February, and \non the 26th of April patents were petitioned for. Ten \ndays later, Thomas Morton was \" entertained to be \nSolliciter for confirmation of the said Deeds under the \nGreat Scale, as also to prosecute suite at Law for the \nrepealing of the Patent belonging to the Massachu- \nsetts Company. And is to have for fee twenty shil- \nlings a terme, and such further reward as those who \nare interested in the affaires of New England shall \nthinke him fitt to deserve upon the Judgement given \nin the Cause.\" A month afterwards, on the 7th of \nJune, 1635, the formal resignation of the grand patent \ntook place. \n\nKeturnins: now to the course of simultaneous events \nin New England, where great alarm prevailed, no \nsooner had Winslow, bearing the letter to Cradock, \nstarted on his voyage in July, 1634, than Governor \nDudley and his brother magistrates went down to \nCastle Island, with \"divers of the ministers and \nothers,\" and took steps towards fortifying the en- \ntrance to Boston Harbor. The deputy, Koger Lud- \n\n\n1634. ''KING WINTHROP.\" 285 \n\nlow, was appointed to oversee the work. A week \nlater, William Jeffrey came up from Wessagusset, \nand, going to Winthrop's house, gave him a letter \nwhich he had shortly before received from Thomas \nMorton. It was dated on the 1st of May, — more \nthan two months after Cradock's letter, — and, writ- \nten in a tone of high jubilation, contained new and \nstartling information. The writer began by address- \ning Jeffrey as \" My very good Gossip,\" and doubtless \nhe had known him well in the olden days, when \" the \nowner of Passonagessit, to have the benefit of com- \npany, left his habitation in the winter and reposed at \nWessaguscus.\" The man to whom Morton exultingly \nwrote had been one of those who contributed to the \ncharge of his first arrest by Standish, but now Mor- \nton gave him all the news, and most correctly, too. \nClearly the writer of the letter was in a position to be \nwell informed. Referring to the order for the im- \nmediate production of the charter, he described the \nscenes before the Lords Commissioners. He declared \nthat the King had even then — a year before the \nevent took place — given order for a general governor \nto be sent over ; \" and I,\" he added, \" now stay to re- \nturn with the governour, by whom all complainants \nshall have relief.\" Then he exclaimed, — \" Repent, \nyou cruel separatists, repent, there are as yet but forty \ndays. If Jove vouchsafe to thunder, the charter and \nkingdom of the separatists will fall asunder. Repent, \nyou cruel schismatics, repent.\" ^ He speaks signifi- \n\n1 It would seem that Morton intended this letter should reach Win- \nthrop. It would also seem that the New English Canaan was not \nwritten until after this letter, as in the last lines of the book he ap- \nparently alludes to it, repeating the very words quoted in the text \nand adding- that he used them in \" letters returned into new Canaan,*' \nreferring' doubtless to this letter to Jeffrey, dated May 1, 1634. \n\n\n286 THE ASSAULT RENEWED. 16^4. \n\ncantly of Cradock's and Humphrey's \" great friends,\" \nalluding, doubtless, to the Earls of Lincoln and of \n\"Warwick, who had been unable longer to protect \nthem; and disclosed the source of his own influence \nwith the Archbishop by referring to '' King Win- \nthrop, with all his inventions and his Amsterdam \nfantastical ordinances, his preachings, marriages, and \nother abusive ceremonies, which do exemplify his de- \ntestation to the Church of England, and the contempt \nof his Majesty's authority and wholesome laws.\" \n\nThere was a good deal of exaggeration in these tid- \nings. Things only planned were, for instance, repre- \nsented as having actually occurred. Doubtless, too, \nas they read and re-read the letter, the magistrates \nnursed themselves in the belief that the exaggerations \nin it must be even greater than they really were. If \nthey did, they but deluded themselves. The General \nCourt met on the 25th of August, and, while it was \nstill in session, vessels arrived bringing despatches \nwhich confirmed everything material that ]\\Iorton had \nwritten. A full copy of the order-in-council establish- \ninor the Lords Commissioners of Plantations was re- \nceived, and private letters further advised the colonists \nthat ships were being fitted out. and soldiers got ready \nfor embarkation. Though ostensibly provided to send \na new governor to Virginia, these, as Winthrop wrote, \nwere \" suspected to be against us, to compel us, by \nforce, to receive a new governour, and the discipline \nof the Church of England, and the laws of the Com- \nmissioners.\" \n\nStirred by these tidings, the General Court took up \nthe matter of fortifications in a vigorous spirit. The \nregular drilling of the train bands was provided for. \nA council was chosen \" for the managing and order- \n\n\n1634-5. BE AC OX HILL. 287 \n\ning of any war that might befall for the space of a \nyear next ensuing.\" Steps were taken to get arms \nand ammunition together. Defences were ordered at \nDorchester and Charlestown, as well as at Castle \nIsland, and the magistrates were empowered to im- \npress laborers to hurry them to completion. \n\nIt was in Xovember, a few weeks after this court \nadjourned, that Endicott mutilated the royal banner \nat Salem, cutting from it the red cross. '' Much mat- \nter,\" Winthrop \\vi*ote. ** was made of this, as fearing \nit would be taken as an act of rebellion, or of like \nhio^h nature, in defacins; the Kino;'s colors : thouo'h \nthe truth were it was done upon this opinion, that the \nred cross was given to the King of England by the \nPope as an ensign of victory, and so a superstitious \nthing and relique of Antichrist.\" ^ None the less it \nwas a characteristic act, and the fittest answer Massa- \nchusetts could have made to the threatened encroach- \nments of the Crown. Then, in January, just before the \nCouncil for New Englandiuet in Londo*n to take the \nsteps which were to precede the surrender of its char- \nter, all the ministers were summoned to Boston to hold \nsolemn conference with the Governor and the Assist- \nants. The question was formally submitted to them, — \n\" What ought we to do if a general governor should \nbe sent out of England ? '' — and the clergy replied \nwith one voice that '' we ought not to accept him, but \ndefend our la\\\\-ful possessions if we are able.\" In \nMarch, when the General Court met again, it was \nordered that the works on Castle Island should be \ncompleted at once, and cannon mounted there. Up \nto that time, the loftiest and most prominent of the \nthree rounding hills which composed in largest part \n\n1 Wintlirop, i. *146. \n\n\n288 THE ASSAULT RENEWED. April, \n\nthe peninsula on which Boston now stood, — that one \nof the three which, rising behind and between the \nother two, whose broken bluffs shouldered the tide on \nthe bay front, gave from its triple peaks its original \nname of Tri mount to the place,^ — this had been \nknown as Sentry Hill. It was now ordered that \n\" there should be forthwith a beacon set upon it,\" to \ngive notice to the country of any danger, and it was \nthereafter known as Beacon Hill. At the same time \na military commission was established, with arbitrary \npowers extending even to life and death, and the free- \nman's oath was exacted of every one. Maverick, who \nstill lived at Noddle's Island, and whose connection \nwith Gorges was not forgotten, under penalty of an \nhundred pounds was ordered to remove himself and \nhis family to Boston ; and he was forbidden to enter- \ntain any stranger for more than a single night without \nthe leave of an Assistant. Shortly after April came \nin \" There was an Alarme presently given, [the town] \nbeing informed by a Shallop that they had seen a \ngreat shipe, and a smaller one goe into Cape Ann \nHarbour, and early in the Morning, being Sabbath \nday, all the Traine Bands in Boston, and Townes ad- \njacent were in Armes in the streets, and posts were \nsent to all other places to be in the same posture, in \nwhich they continued untill by their scouts they found \nher to be a small shipe of Plymouth and a shallope \nthat piloted her in. The generall and Publick report \nwas that it was to oppose the landing of an Enemie, \na Governour sent from England, and with that they \nacquainted the Commanders.\" ^ It was but a false \nalarm ; but, none the less, the prompt action taken \n\n1 Shurtleff, Description of Boston, 41 ; Mem. Hist, of Boston, i. 524. \n\n2 Proc. Mass. Hist. Soc. Series II. i. 240. \n\n\n1635. ''GOD'S CHOSEN PEOPLE.\" 289 \n\nshowed the sense of imminent danger which then \nprevailed. Meanwhile, all through these events and \npreparations a significant silence was preserved on \nthe subject of the charter. The order for its im- \nmediate transmission to England lay on the table of \nthe General Court ; but that body met in session after \nsession and took no notice of it. The people and the \ndeputies, of one mind with the magistrates and the \nministers, projiosed to '* defend their lawful posses- \nsions, if they were able.\" \n\nSo matters stood on either side of the ocean in \n1635. Koyal prerogative was arrayed against actual \npossession ; but Sir Ferdinando Gorges was not des- \ntined to realize the dream of his life, and Winthrop \nsaw in the failure a direct interposition of God's hand. \nThe Lord, he said, \" preserved and prospered his peo- \nple here beyond ordinary ways of providence ; \" and \nthen he pointed out how Mason, \" a man in favor at \ncourt,\" had seen all his designs frustrated, and died \nbewailing his enmity against God's chosen people; \nand how Gorges never prospered, but, after being at \nlarge expense on account of his province here, \"he \nlost all.\" The probability is that, in this last state- \nment, the pious Governor touched on the true, though \nmatter-of-fact, explanation of Gorges' failure and his \nown safety. Gorges kept attempting that which he \ndid not have the means to carry out ; and so failed, \nand \" lost all.\" In this commonplace way, and in no \nother, \" the Lord frustrated their design.\" The effort \nof 1634-5 was a mere repetition, on a somewhat larger \nand more resounding scale, of the effort of 1623. The \nlatter had resulted in the expedition under Robert \nGorges, and the former set all the courts in England \nin noisy motion. Neither of them brought anything \n\n\n290 THE ASSAULT RENEWED. 1635. \n\nabout. They both failed, too, from the same cause, \n\n— want of money. The machinery in each case was \nimposing, and there was a great deal of it ; but, when \nit came to doing anything in a practical way, it was ap- \nparent that behind the machinery there was nothing \nbut Sir Ferdinando Gorges, — an active-minded, ad- \nventurous soldier, skilled in court ways, persistent and \nfull of resource, but to the last degree impecunious. \nAnd so, when action was at last necessary, the move- \nment stopped in 1635, just as it haxl stopped in 1623. \nIn the later attempt Gorges had enlisted with him the \nenergetic Mason, and, probably through him, a ship \nwas to be provided. The building of this ship, with- \nout doubt, strained the resources of the two to the ut- \nmost ; and when, in launching, it suffered a mishap, — \nagain probably from insufficient means, — they could \nnot repair the damage it had sustained. From the \nKing they could get commissions and commissioners, \n\n— from the Archbishop they could get blessings for \nthemselves and bannings for their opponents, — but \nwhen it came to men, to money and to supplies, nei- \nther King nor Archbishop had any to spare. Charles \nwas then seeking to keep the royal exchequer from \nbeing absolutely empty by deriving an uncertain reve- \nnue from the illegal imposition of taxes on trade, and \nby the exaction of fines levied upon the great nobles \nfor encroachments on the royal forests ; indeed, it was \nin this very year, 1635, that the ship-money writs \nwere issued, and, the next year, public offices were \nsold.i Yet notwithstanding all this the treasury of \nthe King was hardly less empty than that of the \nCouncil for New England ; and so Gorges found once \nmore that he had no one but himself to rely on. He \n\n1 Gardiner, Hist, of Eng., 1603-1642, chs. Ixxiv., Ixxxii. \n\n\n1635. THE QUO WARRANTO. 291 \n\ncould go just so far, but no step further. His noble \nassociates would accept the domains he assigned them \non paper, but they would venture nothing for actual \npossession. The hands of the King w^ere full at home, \nand the Primate was powerless out of England. \n\nOf that '' strong, new-built ship [which] in the very \nlaunching fell all in pieces, no man knew how,\" ^ no- \nthing more was heard. It probably was sold for debt, \nand repaired with no great trouble by its purchaser. \nThe King's governor-general did not go out to New \nEngland ; and he failed to go out for the simple reason \nthat he had not the means to go out, or, if he should \ngo out, the strength to sustain himself when he got \nthere. So the angry cloud in the east, after turning \nMassachusetts into an armed camp, gradually van- \nished away in a distant rumble of harmless thunder \nin the English courts of law. \n\nIn June, 1635, the attorney-general filed in the \nKing's Bench a writ of quo warranto against the \nMassachusetts Bay company. This was the work \nwhich Thomas Morton had a month before been \" en- \ntertained to prosecute,\" and the promptness of the \nattorney-general's action would seem to indicate that \nthe new agent for the Council had earned his fee for \nthat term at least, and even deserved some \" further \nreward.\" The scheme was to set the charter aside, \nnot because of any abuse of the powers lawfully con- \nferred by it, but as being void ah initio. Every title \nto land held under it would be thus vitiated. In due \ncourse of law certain of the patentees appeared, deny- \ning the alleged usurpation on their part, and formal \njudgments were entered against them. Cradock made \ndefault, and was convicted of the usurpation charged. \n\n1 D'Ewes, Autobiography, ii. 118. \n\n\n292 THE ASSAULT RENEWED. 1635. \n\n\nJudgment was then entered that the franchises should \nbe taken into the King's hands. The patentees in \nNew England made no appearance, and were out- \nlawed. In the eye of the law, therefore, the charter \nwas no longer anything more than a worthless parch- \nment. In point of fact it was all that it had ever \nbeen ; for the colonists disregarded the decision at \nWestminster, and Gorges was powerless. As for the \nKing and the Primate, they were occupied with mat- \nters of more pressing urgency. \n\nThe summer of 1635 passed away, and the autumn \nfound Gorges no nearer his governorship ; but hope \nsprang eternal in his breast. Towards the end of No- \nvember, a meeting of the associates of the dissolved \nCouncil for New England was held at the house of \nLord Stirling, and a vote was passed that steps should \nbe taken for getting particular patents issued as soon \nas possible for the land divisions agreed upon in the \nprevious February. Morton was, in fact, reminded \nthat things were not moving rapidly enough. It was \nalso ordered that a petition be drawn, for presentation \nto the King in the Council's name, for an \" allowance \nto be made for the maintenance and supportation of \nthe Governour in such estate as might sort with the \nhonour thereunto belons^ino:.\" \n\nBut a heavy blow was now impending over Gorges. \nCaptain John Mason, of New Hampshire, at this time \ndied. Not improbably the meeting of the Council of \nNovember 26, and its action to hasten the issuing of \nthe patents, was had in view of his condition, for his \nwill is dated on that same day.^ He died within the \nfollowing month, and his death lopped away the right \nhand of Gorges' enterprise. Doubtless, after his na^ \n\n1 Tuttle. Captain John Mason, 407. \n\n\n1635. A BATTLE LOST. 293 \n\nture, the old soldier, though now somewhat stricken \nin years, for in 1635 he was already verging towards \nthreescore and ten, kept up a stout heart and looked \nforward to his departure to his government with each \nrecurring spring. It was not to be. King Charles \nnever had any money to spare to furnish forth expe- \nditions against his stubborn subjects of the Massa- \nchusetts Bay. Their battle was to be fought out in \nEngland. \n\n\nCHAPTER XVII. \n\nEXIT GORGES. \n\nWhat has since come to be known as the solidarity \nof the nations was not dreamed of in the state lore of \nthe seventeenth century ; but, none the less, between \nthe years 1630 and 1640 it made itself very potently \nfelt. The insignificance of the Massachusetts colony \nat the Whitehall of Charles I. has already been re- \nferred to.i That colony was, indeed, of such little \nmoment in the minds and eyes of the English people \nand the English court, that few, except those engaged \nin navigation, or for other reasons specially informed, \ncould have placed it on the map. Even Scotland was \nthen looked upon as a remote and unimportant region, \n\n— so remote and so unimportant that Clarendon says, \n\n— \" No man ever inquired what was doing in Scot- \nland, nor had that kingdom a place or mention in one \npage of any gazette, so little the world heard or thought \nof that people.\" Yet it is not possible to understand \nwhy things chanced for Massachusetts as at this time \nthey did, without bearing constantly in mind the par- \nallel course of events in England ; w^iile the course \nof events, and the reason of men's action in England, \nbecome enigmas quite insoluble, unless a key to them \nis sought in the course of events in Scotland. Thus, \nbetween 1635 and 1640 it was in Scotland that the \n\n1 Supra, 274. \n\n\n1634-5. SHIP-MONEY. 295 \n\nimmediate future of New England was receiving its \nshape. \n\nTo understand the sequence of the history now to \nbe narrated it is necessary, therefore, to have clearly \nin mind the events that were taking place at the same \ntime in several countries. It will be remembered that \nthe Board of Lords Commissioners for Foreign Plan- \ntations, the origin and policy of which has just been \ndescribed, was organized in April, 1634, and at the \nsame time it had been decided to send out a governor- \ngeneral to New England. Morton's jubilant letter to \nJeffreys, announcing the fact, was written a few days \nlater, on May ^. At this very time Attorney-Gen- \neral Noy was turning over the musty bundles of rec- \nords in the Tower, hunting up precedents for his new \nscheme of a ship-money tax, — \" thinking that he \ncould not give a clearer testimony that his knowledge \nin the law was greater than all other men's, than by \nmakins: that law ^vhich all other men believed not to \nbe so.\" 1 He died during the next summer, but Sir \nJohn Finch took the thing where the other left it, \n\" and, being a judge, carried it up to that pinnacle \nfrom whence he almost broke his own neck.\" It was \non the 20th of the following October that the first \nship-money writ was issued ; and on the 27th of the \nfollowing month the Assistants met at Governor Dud- \nley's house \" to advise about the defacing of the cross \nin the ensign at Salem \" by Endicott. Seven months \nlater, in June, 1635, the Council for New England \nsurrendered its patent, and King Charles, in accept- \ning the surrender, declared it his intention to ap- \npoint Sir Ferdinando Gorges his governor-general. \nSimultaneously with this the attorney-general, Sir \n1 Clarendon (Oxford, 1849), B. I. §§ 157, 158. \n\n\n296 EXIT GORGES. 1637. \n\nJohn Banks, instituted his quo warranto proceedings \nagainst the Massachusetts company, to effect the over- \nthrow of its charter; though it was two years later, \nand near the close of 1637, before judgment was \nentered up on these proceedings and the charter de- \nclared vacated. At the same term of the courts at \nwhich this judgment was entered, the great twenty- \nshilling ship-money case, in which Hampden was de- \nfendant, was argued through two entire weeks before \nthe twelve judges ; and, the succeeding month of \nJune, judgment was rendered for the Crown. Be- \ntween the argument in the ship-money case and the \njudgment, the tenor of which last was everywhere per- \nfectly well known in advance, the Lords Commission- \ners for Plantations had sent out to Boston peremptory \norders for the immediate transmission to London of \nthe now vacated charter. \n\nThe direct issue had at last been made, and, to out- \nward seeming, all things were moving smoothly to the \ndesired end ; but, in reality, grave doubts as to what \nwas to be the outcome of all their efforts must already \nhave crossed the minds of Gorges and Morton. Their \nconfidence had touched full flood the year before ; and, \nindeed, during the early months of that year all things \nhad promised well for them. They, at least, had made \nno error of calculation, had fallen into no mistake of \njudgment, for they had attached themselves unreserv- \nedly to the party of Laud ; and, whether in church or \nin state, the Primate was now supreme. They had \ndone more than attach themselves to Laud's party ; \nthey had so played upon his prejudices as to enlist \nhim heart and soul in their cause. Had the council \nchamber at Boston been within reach of the pursui- \nvants of the High Commission, all matters would soon \n\n\n1037. ARCHBISHOP LAUD. 297 \n\nhave been settled in complete accordance with the \nviews of Kin\"- Chaiios' '' Governour Generall \" and \nthe \" Sollicitor \" of the Council for New England. \nBut, in addition to being far removed from Massa- \nchusetts, the Archbishop at this time had a great \ndeal to think of. There was, indeed, little in the \nthree kingdoms, touching either church or state, to \nwhich he was not giving his personal attention.^ He \nwas regulating the most minute details of university \ndiscipline at Oxford, as its chancellor. He was also \nchancellor of the University of Dublin, for the better \nordering of which he was securing a new charter and \nbody of statutes. He was making it extremely un- \ncomfortable for the foreign religious congregations in \nEngland on the one side, and for the Puritans on the \nother. In respect to both, he was allowing full swing- \nto his passion for conformity. Then, he was in the \nheat of a great controversy in regard to the proper \nposition of the communion-table in the churches ; but, \nnevertheless, he found time to attend to the important \nquestions of copes, genuflexions and painted windows. \nHe was in frequent correspondence with Wentworth, \nLord-Lieutenant of Ireland, on affairs of state ; with \nBishop Juxon, also, whom he had uiade Lord-Treas- \nurer ; with the merchants of London, on questions of \nfinance and trade. He was further causing a body of \nchurch canons to be prepared for Scotland, which \nkingdom he had decided must now be made to con- \nform. In fact, when one reads the memoirs of those \nseething times, it seems as if there was nothing in \nwhich the venerable, well-meaning University Don \ndid not concern himself : and he always went to his \n\n^ Gardiner, England, 160.3-1642, chs. xiv., Ixix., Ixxiii., Ixxviii., \nIxxxiii. ; Green, Hist of English People, B. VII. ch. vi. \n\n\n298 EXIT GORGES. 1G37. \n\nwork with that conscious rectitude of purpose, and in- \nfinite belief in his own wisdom, which ever have been \nand ever will be the staff and the stay of the genuine \npriest and inquisitor. Acute as well as vigorous in- \ntellectually, he was the product of the cloister, placed \nby his own unfortunate good fortune in the chair of \nstate. Devout and of untiring industry, he did his \nwhole duty, as he understood it, nor ever once flinched ; \nwhile, with that faith in regulating which is native to \nmen of little mind, he meddled with everything, and \nmarred everything with which he meddled. In the \nbroad, strong light of subsequent events, he seems to \nhave been put just where he was put by a providential \ndispensation ; for he was exquisitely calculated to lash \ninto open frenzy the latent tendencies of his time.^ By \nnature and in purpose the most conservative of men, \nhe was fated to be one of the most revolutionary fac- \ntors of a revolutionary time. \n\nAs the head of the Board of Lords Commissioners \nit, of course, devolved on the Archbishop to regulate \nNew England. Fortunately for New England and \nthe English-speaking race, — most unfortunately for \nhimself, — he at the same time undertook to regulate \nScotland. The result was as if a thunderbolt had \nfallen from a clear sky. In the spring of 1637, when \nthe quo icarranto proceedings against the Massachu- \nsetts company were drawing to their foregone conclu- \nsion in the Court of King's Bench, the cause of Eng- \nlish constitutional government .seemed fairlj^ desperate. \nThe chances were at best heavily against it. No par- \nliament had sat for eight years. It was believed that \nnone would ever sit again. It was a misdemeanor \neven to petition the King to call one ; and the country \n1 Gardiner, England, ii. 126. \n\n\n1637. A MITRED MARPLOT. 299 \n\nmeanwhile was enjoying a season of prosperity such \nas there was no record of before. The leading pa- \ntriots, having abandoned hope, were meditating volun- \ntary exile. The Earl of Warwick secured the propri- \netorship of the Connecticut Valley ; Hampden bought \na tract of land on Narragansett Bay ; Lord Say and \nSeale made arrangements to emigrate. The judges \nhad given their opinion in advance in favor of ship- \nmoney ; and Wentworth, sujireme in Ireland, had \nwritten to Laud, that, \" since it is lawful for the King- \nto impose a tax for the equipment of the navy, it \nmust be equally so for the levy of an army : and the \nsame reason which authorizes him to levy an army to \nresist, will authorize him to carry that army abroad \nthat he may prevent invasion. Moreover, what is law \nin England is law also in Scotland and Ireland. The \ndecision of the judges will, therefore, make the King \nabsolute at home and formidable abroad.\" In June, \n1637, King Charles and his court believed that he \nwas thenceforth free to govern at his will.^ \n\nOne thing only was necessary, and that thing the \nenergetic, clear-seeing Wentworth fully appreciated \nand emphasized in his letters : '■ — \" Let [the King] only \nabstain from war for a few years that he may habitu- \nate his subjects to the payment of that tax.\" A brief \nperiod of foreign peace and domestic plenty, — that \nwould clinch the matter. It was just this which Laud \nwas there to prevent. Without the slightest neces- \nsity for so doing, but acting after his nature, he sud- \ndenly broke, and broke forever, the spell of deathly \nquiet which lay brooding over the kingdom. Busy- \nbody that he was, this, of all possible times, was the \ntime he selected for establishing in Scotland the \nChurch of England ceremonial. \n\n^ Green, Hist, of Eng. People, iii. 175. \n\n\n300 EXIT GORGES. July, \n\nSunday, the 23d of Jidy, 1637, was fixed upon for \nthe trial of the experiment. The result does not need \nto be retold here. AVhen Jenny Geddes flung that \nmythical stool at the head of the Dean of Edinburgh \nin the high church of St. Giles, she settled many \nthings besides the fate of episcopacy in Scotland. \nAmong those things was the danger then threaten- \ning the Massachusetts colony. Jenny Geddes' stool \nstruck Sir Ferdinando Gorges and Thomas Morton \nquite as effectively as if the old crone had flung it \nat them. It is one of the familiar incidents of the \nhistory of that time that when Laud, on hearing the \nfirst tidings of \"Stony Sabbath,\"^ hurried over from \nLambeth to Whitehall to confer with Charles, he met \nin the ante-chamber Archie Armstrong, the King's \njester, who saluted the angry Primate with the ques- \ntion,— \"Who's the fool now, my Lord?\" As the \njester soon found, to his cost, the author of that day's \nmischief was in no mood to be joked about it ; nor \ndid it turn out for either of the two fools — him of \nthe mitre, or him of the cap-and-bells — a laughing \nmatter. But it may well be questioned whether from \nthe day Laud was thus addressed, forward to the days \nwhen he and the King both mounted the scaffold, any \nadviser of Charles I. ever gave one hour's serious and \nconsecutive thought to the affairs of New England, \nor what was going on there. As the Rev. John Cot- \nton well put it in one of his discourses, — \" God then \nrocqued three nations, with shaking dispensations, \nthat he might procure some rest unto his people in \nthis wilderness.\" ^ \n\nA few months before the \" Casting of the Stools,\" \n\n^ Or \"Stonie-field Day.\" Fairfax Correspondence, i. 331. \n2 Alagnalia, B. III. ch. i. § 33. \n\n\n1637. ''STONIE-FIELD DAY.\" 301 \n\nprobably in anticii^ation of the results of Sir John \nBanks' q^io warranto proceedings, some sort of a \ncommission seems to have been prepared, by order of \nthe Lords Commissioners, creating a provisional gov- \nernment for New England, to act until final order \nshould be made as to the governor-generalship. A \ncopy of this commission was sent over to New Eng- \nland through one George Cleeve, who subsequently \nplayed a part of sufficient prominence in the early \nhistory of Maine to be now mentioned in it as \" an \nequivocal character,\" who in certain land transactions \n\"' acted with great duplicity.\" ^ Cleeve arrived at \nBoston on the 26th of June, in the same ship wdth \nthe young Lord Ley, a youth of \" lowly and familiar \ncarriage,\" son and heir of the Earl of Marlborough, \nwho had come over moved by curiosity to see the \ncountry. In addition to a copy of the commission for \nthe general government of New England, which was \nprobably addressed to Winthrop and others of the \ncolonial notables, Cleeve brought two other commis- \nsions. One of these seems to have originated with \nMorton, who at this time was in the pay of Cleeve, \nas well as in that of the Council for New England.^ \nIt was a patent under the privy seal, authorizing its \nbearer to discover the great Lake Erocoise, of which \na most glowing account had been given in the \" New- \nEnglish Canaan.\" The other was a commission from \nSir Ferdinando Gorges, empowering five or six of the \nMassachusetts magistrates by name to govern his prov- \nince of New Somersetshire in Maine, which extended \nfrom Casco Bay to the Kennebec, and withal to over- \nsee his servants and private affairs. The last docu- \n\n1 Williamson, Hist, of yfaine, i. 668. \n^ IV. Mass. Hist. Coll. vii. 331. \n\n\n302 EXIT GORGES. 1637 \n\nment had decidedly the aspect of a missive from a \ngovernor-general in possibility to his humbler but \nfaithful associates, and was looked on much askance \nby Winthrop, who noted it \" as a matter of no good \ndiscretion.\" Whenever he did not wish to recognize \nor obey a distasteful mandate, it was the custom of \nthe first governor of Massachusetts to take advantage \nof any irregularity he could find in the form or super- \nscription of the document, and pass it by in respect- \nful silence. In this case the name of one of those men- \ntioned in the commission was \" mistaken, and another \n[had] removed to Con.iecticut ; \" so he excused \" our \nnot intermeddling,\" adding moreover, in his dryest \nmanner, \" that it did not appear to us what authority \nhe had to grant such a commission.\" \n\nIf this commission was, as seems probable, issued \nsome time in April, 1637, Gorges had then for full two \nyears been publicly designated as the governor-general \nfor New England, and was only awaiting the close of \nthe quo warranto proceedings to be formally ap- \npointed. Had events then taken a different turn, and \nthe ship-money tax become actually leviable, instead \nof merely declared legal, there can be little question \nthat he would speedily have come over in person on a \nking's vessel. He probably now looked forward to \nthis with the utmost confidence, and the commission \nwhich Cleeve bore to Winthrop and the rest, to over- \nsee his private estate and affairs, Sir Ferdinando in- \ntended as a sort of vice-regal intimation of his confi- \ndence and friendliness of spirit. Three months later \nthe St. Giles liturgy riot took place in Scotland, and \nfrom that time forward the King had no ships to spare \nfor New England. There are some indications that \nthe old courtier was now attempting a double and \n\n\n1637-8. MORTON '^WHOLELY CASHEERD:' 803 \n\nwell-nigh impossible game ; having the Primate on \none side, and his future lieges in America on the \nother, he sought to play upon the antipathy to all \nPuritans of the former, and yet was most anxious to \nconciliate the latter. The ''New English Canaan\" \nwas just issued from the press ; and, while its effect \non the Archbishop would be most beneficial, it could \nnot fail deeply to incense the friends of the Massa- \nchusetts colony, who would be sure to transmit word \nof it to New England. Accordingly, in September, \nwe find Gorges writing to Winthrop in a most con- \nciliatory tone. There is in his letter no suggestion of \nthe governor-generalship. On the contrary \" Ferde : \nGorges \" assures his \" much respected freindes,\" among \nwhom is \" John Winthropp,\" that the former knows \nnothing and can learn nothing of the commission for \ngoverning New England, while as to Morton, he de- \nclares that the former \" Sollicitor \"is \" wholely cash- \neerd from inter medlinge with anie our affaires here- \nafter.\" 1 But that such was really the case is, as will \npresently be seen, at least open to doubt. It is far \nmore probable that in thus writing, the old knight \nmade use of a little of that Stuart kingcraft, which \nin his younger days had been so much in vogue. \n\nA year now elapsed during which Gorges made no \napparent headway. It was not in his nature to be in- \nactive, but such plans as from time to time he formed, \nhe must needs have unfolded to anxious and inatten- \ntive ears ; while of any futile attempts he may have \nmade at action, no record remains. At last, in the \nspring' of 1638, a few months after the close of the \nquo warranto proceedings, the Board of Lords Com- \nmissioners gave feeble signs of life. On the 4th of \n1 iv, Mass. Hist. Coll. vii. 331. \n\n\n304 EXIT GORGES. 1638. \n\nApril it met at Whitekall. The Primate sat at the \nhead of the table, and among those about it were the \nLord-Keeper Coventry, the Lord-Treasurer Juxon, \nand the elder Vane, whose son had then recently \nreturned from New England. Calling to mind the \nfutile demand which four years before had been sent \nthrough Cradock to Winthrop, and taking official \nnotice of the issue of the quo warranto proceedings, \nthe Board now passed an order directing the clerk \nin attendance to send out to Governor Winthrop a \nperemptory command for the immediate surrender of \nthe charter. It was to come back to London by the \nreturn voyage of the ship which took the command \nout, — *' It being resolved,\" so the missive ran, \" that, \nin case of any further neglect or contempt by them \nshewed therein, their lordships will cause a strict \ncourse to be taken against them, and will move his \nMajesty to reassume into his hands the whole planta- \ntion.\" 1 \n\nThis language certainly was not lacking in clear- \nness ; but the effect of it on those to whom it was \naddressed must have been considerably impaired by \nthe fact that the ship which carried the missive to \nNew England was one of the fleet which also brought \nout tidings of the fierce tiunnlt of enthusiasm which \naccompanied the signing of that solemn and famous \nLeao^ue and Covenant which worked the overthrow \nof episcopacy in Scotland.^ The signing of the Cove- \nnant had preceded the order for the return of the \ncharter by just one month. \n\nNone the less, when, in the early summer of 1638^ \n\n1 Hutchinson, State Pajjers, 105 ; lb. History, i. 86-7 ; Winthrop, \nLife and Letters, ii. 224-8. \n\n2 Gardiner, England, 1603-1642, ch. Ixxxvi. \n\n\n1638. '^SPINXE SEVEN YEARS OUT.'' 305 \n\nthe mandate of the Lords Commissioners reached Bos- \nton, it created no little alarm. There was nothing for \nit but to procrastinate ; but to procrastinate meant a \ngreat deal when six months had to elapse between each \nstep of a process. Winthrop, also, was an adept in \ndelay. With him in the governor's chair there was \nreason in the colonists' boast, that they could \" easily \nspinne seven years out with writing at that distance, \nand before that be ended a change [might] come.\" ^ \nThis work of fence exactly suited his calm, cautious \ntone of mind. Accordingly, when the order reached \nhim, he at first merely placed it on file, — acting on \nthe precedent established in the case of the similar \norder of four years before, that nothing could be done \nin the matter save by authority of the General Court, \nwhich did not meet until the following September, it \nbeing then perhaps the middle of June. When at \nlast September came, bringing with it the General \nCourt, \" it was resolved to be best not to send [the \npatent], because then such of our friends and others \nin England would conceive it to be surrendered, and \nthat thereupon we should be bound to receive such a \ngovernour and such orders as should be sent to us, \nand many bad minds, yea, and some weak ones, among \nourselves, would think it lawful, if not necessary, to \naccept a general governour.\" \n\nThe latter portion of the reasons here assigned \nwould have had a pecidiar interest for Sir Ferdinando \nGorges, but it is unnecessary to say that they were not \nincorporated in the formal reply, which was couched in \nthe most humble and respectful language. There was \nabout it no suggestion of disobedience, — not the most \ndistant ring of defiance. Time and opportunity to \n1 N. Y. Hist. Soc. Coll. 1869, 85. \n\n\n306 EXIT GORGES. 1638. \n\nanswer any charges which might be advanced against \nthe colony were asked for, and the utmost confidence \nwas expressed that all charges could be satisfactorily \nmet. Finally, five several reasons were given why a \nreturn of the charter should not be insisted on. Two \nof these were significant. If the colonists, it was \nargued, were forced to abandon their settlements, the \ncountry would fall into the hands of the French or \nDutch ; or else (aud in this alternative lay the sig- \nnificance) the \" common people \" would conceive that \nthey were freed from their allegiance and proceed \nto confederate themselves under a new government, \n\" which will be of dangerous example unto other plan- \ntations and perilous to ourselves of incurring his \nMajesty's displeasure, which we would by all means \navoid.\" \n\nThe reply, when framed, was signed by Edward \nRawson, the secretary of the colony, and would seem \nto have been despatched early in September, for it \nbore date as of the ^ of that month. In that case it \nmay have reached England in November. If it did, \nit probably received small attention there ; for it was \nin that same November, five months after the formal \ndecision of the twelve judges had been rendered \nagainst Hampden in the ship-money case, that the \nKing and Primate, to their utter surprise and discom- \nfiture, found themselves forced, for the moment at \nleast, to yield to the Scotch insurgents. Neither \nmoney nor troops were available ; so the Covenant had \nto be allowed, the liturgy was revoked, and a General \nAssembly was summoned to meet at Glasgow. It \nmet, — and, having met, would not submit to be dis- \nsolved. So Charles and Laud, nursing their wrath \nagainst a better occasion, had to look on from London \n\n\n1639. THE BEGINNING OF THE END. 307 \n\nand see the patient work of years all undone in a \nday. They, of course, at such a time gave no thought \nto the Massacliusetts charter, nor cared one straw \nwhether it was brought to London or was kept in \nBoston. In all probability Gorges and Morton alone \nconned over Wiuthrop's cautious reply as it lay on \nthe clerk's desk in the office at Whitehall. \n\nAYhen the next June came about, and the spring \nfleet began to reach Boston, the Governor and all \nhis advisers were much concerned as to what answer \nthese vessels might bring to the reply of the previous \nSeptember. They knew well enough that complaints \nhad been frequently made, and that the deep displeas- \nure of the Archbishop had been excited against them. \nRumors of his threats had reached their ears. \" But \nthe Lord wrought for us beyond all expectation, for \nthe petition which we returned in answer of the order \nsent for our patent, was read before the lords and \\rell \naccepted . . . ; and ships came to us, from England \nand divers other parts, with great store of people and \nprovisions of all sorts.\" As for the good acceptance \nof the petition, it would have required far more than \nthe skill in composition on which Winthrop here so \nquietly plumed himself to have turned Laud a hair's \nbreadth from the path he had marked out, had circum- \nstances been other than they were. But they were \nwhat they were ; and at the very time Winthrop in \nBoston was complacently writing the words just quoted \nfrom his journal, that ignominious military fiasco was \nbeing enacted at Kelso, in Scotland, which proved for \nboth Charles and Laud the grotesque beginning of a \ntragic end. \n\nThe first series of assaults on King Charles' char- \nter had come to an end, and nothinoj more was heard \n\n\n308 EXIT GORGES. 1635-7. \n\nof the royalist plan of a general governorship. Not \nthat Gorges then dismissed from his mind the dream \nof the latter, for to do so was not in his nature. He \nmust have remained sanguine to the end ; and even as \nlate as 1640 we find him still deferring a visit to New \nEngland which he had confidently proposed for the \nspring of that year/ just as he had almost every year \nsince 1623 deferred similar visits proposed with equal \nconfidence. But Sir Ferdinando was now a man of \nover seventy years, and his remaining time was short. \nNothing but a favorable turn in royal affairs could \nhave helped him, and of that, after the summer of \n1639, the prospect ever grew less. The idea of going \nout to New England in semi-royal state being in abey- \nance, his mind now characteristically turned to the \ndevelopment of his own private domain, — that region \nin Maine called New Somersetshire, which had fallen \nto his lot in the distribution of 1635. He had then \nsent out his nephew, William Gorges, in the capacity \nof governor to represent him there ; and William \nGorges had established himself at Saco, the most \nflourishing place north of the Massachusetts, and sup- \nposed to have then contained some one hundred and \nfifty inhabitants. He there, in 1636, organized the \nfirst regular government which went into operation \nwithin the limits of what, nearly two centuries later, \nbecame the State of Maine. His jurisdiction seems \nto have extended from what is now York to Penobscot \nBay, within which region, it has been estimated, there \nalready dwelt some fifteen hundred souls. \n\nGovernor William Gorges remained in America \nabout two years, during which he showed himself to \nbe a man of judgment and capacity, but in 1637 he \n\n1 Baxter, Gorges, i. 181 ; iii. 295-6. \n\n\n1639. THE PROVINCE OF MAINE. 309 \n\nhad returned to England. After his return, and pre- \nsumably acting upon his advice, Sir Ferdinando ex- \nerted himself to procure a royal patent covering a yet \nlarger domain, and in this he at last succeeded ; for, \nupon the 3d of April, 1639, he, his heirs and assigns, \nwere by letters patent created absolute Lords Pro- \nprietors of the Province, or County, of Maine. The \nregion thus conferred covered sixty miles of seacoast \nbetween the Piscataqua and the Kennebec, and ex- \ntended one hundred and twenty miles into the interior. \nIt was equal in extent to a sixth part of the present \nState. The powers and privileges enumerated in the \ncharter were of the largest description, — larger, it \nhas been asserted, than were ever granted by the \ncrown to any other individual.^ \n\nThe old man now gave free rein to his love of regu- \nlating; he showed that, had he ever been Governor- \nGeneral of New England, he would in this respect \nhave vied with his patron, the Archbishop. He divided \nhis entire wilderness into \" eight bailiwicks, or counties, \nand these again into sixteen several hundreds, conse- \nquently into parishes and tithings.\" He provided for \na lieutenant, or deputy governor, to be the chief \nmagistrate in his own absence, a chancellor, a treas- \nurer, a marshal, an admiral, a master of the ordi- \nnance and a secretary. To these officials, all holding \nauthority directly from himself as lord proprietor, he \nadded eight deputies to be elected by the freeholders.^ \nA mere paper government it was, of course, utterly \nunfitted for the time and place. But, such as it was, \nhe sent it out to America, in 1640 ; and shortly after, \n\n^ Williamson, Hist, of Maine, i. 275; Baxter, Gorges, i. 180; iL \n123. \n\n2 Briefe Narration, B IE. clis. 3, 4. \n\n\n810 EXIT GORGES. 1640. \n\nThomas Gorges — who, in a style regally grandiose, \nhe refers to as \" my trusty and well beloved cousin \" \n— followed it, with a commission to be deputy-gov- \nernor. This gentleman, the son of Sir Ferdinando's \ncousin Henry Gorges, was then twenty-two years of \nage and had just finished his legal studies ; ^ he im \npressed Winthrop on his arrival in New England as \nbeing \" sober and well disposed,\" and, stopping a few \ndays in Boston before going to his government, he \nsought the advice of the magistrates there. When \nhe got to Maine, he found everything in a bad way, \n• — as bad indeed as well could be ; for an individual \nknown as the Rev. George Burdet had established \nhimself in supreme control. This Burdet — a most \nunsavory character — had come to Salem in 1634, \nwhere it is reported he at first made a favorable im- \npression and preached for a year or more, \" his natural \nabilities [being] good, his manners specious, and his \nscholarship much above mediocrity.\" Getting into \ntrouble there, he went to New Hampshire, and roundly \ndenounced the Massachusetts colony in letters to Arch- \nbishop Laud. In reply he was assured by that prelate \nthat he proposed at his first leisure moment to redress \nthe disorders referred to. As New Hampshire became \npresently too warm for him, Burdet next moved into \nMaine, where he soon managed to get the control of \neverything into his hands. It would seem that he no \nlonger preached, as, selecting for his companions \" the \nwretchedest people of the country,\" he passed his \nleisure time \" in drinkinge, dauncinge [and] singinge \nscurrulous songes.\" He had, in fact, \"let loose the \nreigns of liberty to his lusts, [so] that he grew very \nnotorious for his pride and adultery.\" At Agamen- \n\n^ Baxter, Gorges, ii. 186. \n\n\n1642. GORGEANA. 311 \n\nticus, also, Deputy-Governor Gorges found the Lords \nProprietors' buildings, — which had cost a large sum \nof money, and were intended to serve as a sort of gov- \nernment house, — not only dilapidated but thoroughly \nstripped, \" nothing of his household-stujffi remaining \nbut an old pot, a pair of tongs, and a couple of cob- \nirons.\" ^ \n\nIt was on Agamenticus, now York, the seat of gov- \nernment of his domain, that Sir Ferdinando next \nexercised his skill as a maker of charters. By an \ninstrument bearing date April 10, 1641, he erected it \ninto a town, or borough ; and by a further exercise of \nproprietary favor he the next year, March 1, 1642, \ncreated it a city, — the first on the American conti- \nnent. He named it Gorgeana. Its magistracy was \nto consist of a mayor, twelve aldermen, twenty-four \ncommon-councilmen, and a recorder ; and, as Palfrey \nremarks, \" probably as many as two thirds of the adult \nmales were in places of authority.\" The forms of pro- \ncedure in the recorder's court were to be copied from \nthose of the British Chancery. This grave foolery \nwas continued through more than ten years.^ One, \nand not the least interesting point in connection with \nthis charter, is that Thomas Morton attested it ; from \nwhich fact it may not unfairly be inferred, — for in \nGorges' eyes the countersigning of his charter was no \nmeaningless thing, — that Morton was then not at all \nin that disfavor which had been indicated in Sir Fer- \ndinando's letter to Winthrop of four years before.^ \n\nGovernor Thomas Gorges soon grew weary of his \nexperience in the wilderness. His first trial of \n\n1 Williamson, Maine, 270, 283 ; Hubbard, Neiv England, 263 ; \nWinthrop, ii. *10 ; iv. Mass. Hist. Coll. vii. 335. \n\n2 Palfrey, New England, i. 528. 3 Supra, 303. \n\n\n312 EXIT GORGES. 1642-3. \n\nstrength was with Burdet, and in this he soon showed \nthat he possessed energy, character and decision ; for \nhe caused the reverend transgressor to be promptly \narrested, and secured his conviction of divers offences, \n— such as adultery, breaches of the peace, and \nslanderous speeches. He in fact purged the country \nof him, for Burdet shortly after went to England \nbreathing vengeance against his judges ; but, get- \nting there after the outbreak of the Civil War, he \ntook the Royalist side, which resulted in his being at \nonce imprisoned by the Parliament.^ Like so many \nothers, he then disappeared forever beneath the trou- \nbled waters. Having rid the country and himself \nof this troublesome character. Gorges addressed him- \nself in earnest to the work of his government, but \nevidently found it a hopeless as well as a thankless \ntask. He held courts and punished offenders. Ruth \nGouch had to do penance \" in a white sheet, publicly in \nthe congregation at Agamanticus, two several Sabbath \ndays.\" John Lander was fined \" for swearing two \noaths,\" and Ivory Puddington for being drunk. The \ngeneral christening of all unbaptized children was or- \ndered. While everything which related to the inter- \nnal administration of his government was thus petty \nand vexatious, the condition of external affairs was \nperplexing. The Indians were restless ; there were \nquestions continually arising with the French ; a rival \ntitle was set up to the easternmost portion of the \nLord Proprietors' domain. Under these circumstances, \nwhen his commission as a deputy-governor expired, in \n1643, Governor Thomas Gorges could not be induced \nto remain longer in America.^ Returning to England \nhe found the Civil War at its height; for in July of \n\n^ Winthrop, ii. 10. ^ Baxter, Gorges, ii. 186. \n\n\n1643. A VETERAN. 313 \n\nthat year Prince Rupert carried Bristol by assault, \nand in September Lord Falkland was slain at New- \nbury. \n\nThe struggle now going on had, of course, brought \nall of Sir Ferdinando's projects to an end. He could \nno longer entertain any idea of going out to New \nEngland as its governor-general, and, indeed, all emi- \ngration thither had stopped. He could do nothing \ntowards peopling his domain. At home, it would \nseem as if there could be no question as to which party \nthe old courtier would range himself with ; yet later \non he is found writing that he had been for a time \n\"fearful to side with either party, as not able to judge \nof so transcendent a difference ; \" ^ but when he wrote \nthis the struggle was over, and he had made his sub- \nmission, so it still remains open to question whether \nthe former political adherent of Laud and Strafford \nhad hesitated long in the beginning. Yet his age \nmight have excused him ; for, at the breaking out of \nthe Great Rebellion he could not have been less than \nseventy-five, and it was now over fifty years since, in \nthe days of Elizabeth, he had led the soldiers of Essex \ninto the trench at Rouen. ^ Yet in 1641 he seems to \nhave taken some part in the military operations about \nBristol, in which town he dwelt when not at his coun- \ntry house at Ashton, five miles away ; and two years \nlater, in the summer of 1643, he planned in a letter to \nKing Charles the Royalist attack on Bristol, and Sir \nFerdinando's house was the farthest point reached by \nthe assailing forces, which there maintained them- \nselves until forced to retreat. Subsequently Prince \nRupert captured the place ; but when, after Naseby, \n\n1 Baxter, Gorges, i. 196 ; iii. 298. \n\n2 Devereux, Earls of Essex, i. 271. \n\n\n314 EXIT GORGES. 1643. \n\non the S of September, 1645, Bristol was retaken by- \nFairfax with \" fierce and resolute storm,\" Gorges was \ndwelling there, and became a prisoner of war.^ Plun- \ndered and put in confinement, he seems, though then \na man of nearly eighty, to have shared to the fuU the \nhard fortunes of his Royalist friends ; but later on he \nfound a protector in Fairfax, by whom his submission \nwas readily accepted, and he was allowed to return to \nhis home at Ashton. \n\nBut his troubles were not over. His title to the \nlarger portion of the province of Maine had been \ncalled in question. There was a patent, called \" the \nPlough Patent,\" from the name of the ship in which \nit was brought to New England, issued by the Council \nfor New England, earlier in date than Gorges' own \npatent of 1639, and covering much of the same terri- \ntory. Representing only what was characterized as a \n\" broken tytle,\" this buried and forgotten patent was \nresuscitated by George Cleeve, who in some way got \nscent of it in the course of his fruitless search for the \ngreat Lake Erocoise. Cleeve had then gone to Eu- \nrope, apparently for the express purpose of finding a \npurchaser for the Lygonia claim, as it was called, and \nfinally induced Sir Alexander Rigby to buy it.- Sir \nAlexander was a gentleman of wealth, who, besides \nbeing a strong Puritan, was a member of the Long \nParliament, and at one time held the commission of \ncolonel in the Commonwealth army. Later on Cleeve \n\n1 Baxter, Gorges, i. 192-3 ; ii. 202 ; Belknap, Am. Biog. i. 389. \n\n2 \" The Plough patent \" is one of the enigmas of New Eng-land his- \ntory, and continued so until, in the words of Winthrop applied to its \nholders, it \" vanished away.\" In regard to it see the New English \nCanaan (Prince Soc. ed.), 84-5, n. ; Baxter, Cleeve of Casco Bay, 116- \n20, and map of patents, 150; Winsor, Nar. and Crit. Hist, of Am. iii. \n322-3. Also, Banks, Sir Alexander Rigby, 27-39. \n\n\n1643-6. THE PLOUGH PATENT. 315 \n\nreturned to America, as Rigby's agent ; and, laying \nclaim to the territory covered by the patent, at once \nbrought about a collision of authority with the repre- \nsentative of Gorges. Meanwhile, in 1643, a parlia- \nmentary tribunal had succeeded to the powers of the \nLords Commissioners of Foreign Plantations. At the \nhead of this board sat, not Archbishop Laud, who was \nthen a prisoner in the Tower, but Gorges' old associate \nin the Council for New England, the Puritan Earl of \nWarwick, with the title of governor-general. Among \nthe members of the board were Say and Scale, Hazel- \nrig, the younger Vane and Pym, and to it the ques- \ntion of the disputed title was referred. There could \nbe little question as to what the decision of such a tri- \nbunal would be ; as opposed to the Puritan colonel and \nmember of Parliament, the broken-down old cavalier \nand prisoner of war had little consideration to expect. \nIn the hands of its present holders the Plough Patent \nwas of less than doubtful validity. In March, 1646, \nthe commissioners rendered their decision accordingly, \nsustaining the Rigby title, and the Lord Proprietor- \nship of Maine was at one swoop shorn of its fair pro- \nportions, — \"a huge half -moon, a monstrous cantle \nout.\"i \n\nIn May of the following year Sir Ferdinando died \nat Long Ashton. He did not own the place ; but for \nsixteen years he had lived there as the husband of \nDame Elizabeth, relict of Sir Hugh Smith, who, re- \nceiving Long Ashton as her jointure, had in 1629 \nmarried Sir Ferdinando, himself a widower. He left \n\n^ The Gorges patent, of 1639, covered the region lying- hetween the \nPiseataqua and the Kennebec; the Plough patent, of 1()35, that be- \ntween Cape Porpoise and Cape Elizabeth ; the whole of the latter \nclaim being- included in the limits of the former. Deane, in Nar. and \nCrit. Hist, of Am. iii. 322-3; Baxter, Gorges, ii. 125 ; lb. Cleeve, 150. \n\n\n316 EXIT GORGES. \n\nto his heirs what remained of his province, — the \nregion lying between the Piseataqua and Cape Por- \npoise, including the northernmost of the Isles of \nShoals. The subsequent history of the Gorges fam- \nily, and of their Maine patent, is comj^licated and far \nfrom interesting ; neither is it a necessary part of the \npresent narrative. It is sufficient to say that the va- \nlidity of the grant was recognized, and long contro- \nversies arose between the Gorges family and the Mas- \nsachusetts colony. At last, when Sir Ferdinando had \nbeen thirty years in his grave, these controversies, and \nthe apparently endless litigation to which they gave \nrise were brought to an unexpected close. A grand- \nson, who also bore the name of Ferdinando, in consid- \neration of the sum of £1,250, conveyed by deed, bear- \ning date March 13, 1677-8, aU his title and interest \nunder the patent, to the Governor and Company of \nMassachusetts Bay, which thus became Lord Para- \nmount of Maine. This <£1,250 represented what re- \nmained as a net result to his descendants from Sir \nFerdinando's forty years of energetic devotion to his \nAmerican life-dream, backed by an actual expenditure \nof over twenty thousand pounds sterling in money.^ \n\nThe character of Gorges has been sufficiently por- \ntrayed in the course of this narrative. He belonged \nto the time of Elizabeth, not to that of the Stuarts ; \nand of the time of Elizabeth he was typical. At the \nhands of the historian he has received scant justice, \nfor the dramatic intensity of the scene in Westminster \nHall when he was confronted with the despairing \nEssex has burned itself into the record, and in doing \nso has obliterated all else ; ^ it is forgotten that, more \n\n1 Baxter, Gorges, ii. 202, 204, 214. \n\n2 Doyle, English in Am.; Puritan Colonies, i. 21-3. \n\n\n1587-1647. AN ELIZABETHAN. 317 \n\nthan twenty years later, the same Sir Ferdinando who \nthe Lords were then adjured by Essex to \" look \nupon,\" indignantly as an Englishman and a Protest- \nant refused to obey when ordered before Rochelle to \ndeliver the ship under his command to the officers of \nRichelieu to be used against the Huguenots, and, de- \nspite the guns of his admiral, brought the Neptune, \nalone of all the fleet, back in triumphant mutiny to \nEngland. Nor had Buckingham, all powerful as he \nthen was, dared to call him to account for the auda- \ncious act.i Then and alway about Sir Ferdinando \nGorges there is something of the picturesqueness of \nEssex and Sidney and Raleigh, and he seems out of \nplace in the company of Governor Winthrop, Mr. \nHampden and General Fairfax. The whole scheme \nof his life was Elizabethan, — large, undefined, ad- \nventurous. There was about it no Puritan detail, — \nno matter-of-fact, hard sense. He dreamed of found- \ning a ready-made empire ; accordingly he failed when \nit came to planting a settlement. To say that the \nfailure was inherent in the plan, is but to repeat an \nhistorical commonplace. Gorges built up, in his own \nmind, an imaginary Mexico or Peru in New England. \nIn his confident belief, all that was required was once \nto break the shell ; and it took him his whole life to \nfind out that the thing did not exist. None the less \nhe carried on through thirty years a sustained and \ngallant struggle against fate ; and, if his efforts could \nnot result in anything good for himself, they did very \nnearly result in turning awry the course of New Eng- \nland history at a time when the colony was yet liter- \nally \" but in the gristle and not yet hardened into the \nbone \" of even its infancy. It has already been ob- \n\n1 Gardiner, England, v. 394. \n\n\n318 EXIT GORGES. 1646. \n\nserved that, so far as America was concerned, Gorges \nrepresented Charles' policy of prerogative, Laud's \nconformity, and Wentworth's Thorough. His scheme \nof the governor-generalship and his attack on the \ncharter were the New England features of the Koyal- \nist programme. They were as much part and parcel \nof it as was the Court of High Commission or ship= \nmoney, and came to nothing simply because both extra- \njudicial tribunal and arbitrary tax were together bro- \nken down. That these would have been broken down \nhad a Richelieu instead of a Laud shaped the King's \npolicy, is inconsistent with all that we now know of \nthe real condition of affairs in England at that time. \nThe scheme was a good scheme : but it was badly \nhandled ; and the handling of it was largely matter of \nchance. The world in no part of Europe had, in \n1643, yet clearly outgrown the ancient order of things, \nand there were no inherent conditions which caused \nevents in the British isles to take the course there \nwhich they took elsewhere only a whole century and a \nhalf afterwards. For the time being it was through- \nout eastern Europe merely a question as to which \nof two not unequally balanced but contending forces \nmost quickly evolved individual leadership and execu- \ntive ability ; and, while Cromwell appeared on one \nside of the Straits of Dover, on the other side of \" the \nsilver thread \" Richelieu stood forward. Hence the \nscene which took place in front of the Banqueting \nHouse at Whitehall on the 30th of January, 1649, \nwas not reenacted in the Place de la Revolution until \nthe 21st of January, 1793. \n\nBut, even as it was, the scales of English fate long \ntrembled in the balance ; nor was the bad handling \nwhich wrecked Stafford's well devised scheme of \n\n\n1646. WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN. 319 \n\n\" Thorough \" seen in the execution of the New Eng- \nland portion of the plan. No mistake was made \nthere. The courts did their work, and the charter \nwas vacated. The governor-general was designated. \nEverything was ready ; and then the other, and less \ndistant, portions of the one great scheme collapsed. \nPushed too far on a petty side issue, it met a stub- \nborn obstacle, and at once it became apparent that \nthe head and hand of him upon whom the conduct \nof the thing perforce devolved were unequal to the \nwork. But nowhere was the danger greater than \nin New England. The infant settlement kept up a \nbrave front, and would have kept it up to the end. \nIt might even have put forth a feeble effort at resist- \nance ; but, in speaking of the Gorges schemes, a man \nas well informed on the true condition of those early \nNew England affairs as Hutchinson does not hesitate \nto say ; — \n\n\" We may make some conjectures what would have been \nthe consequence of taking away the charter at this time. \nIt is pretty certain, the body of the people would have left \nthe country. Two years after, merely from a dissatisfac- \ntion with the soil and the climate, many did remove, and \nmany more were on tip-toe and restrained only by the con- \nsideration of their engagements to stand by and support one \nanother ; but where they would have removed is the ques- \ntion. ... It is most likely they would have gone to the \nDutch at Hudson's River. They had always kept up a \nfriendly correspondence with them. In their religious \nprinciples and form of worship and church government, \nthey were not very distant from one another. ... If they \nhad failed with the Dutch, such was their resolution, that \nthey would have sought a vacuum doTnicilluTn (a favorite \nexpression with them) in some part of the globe where \nthey would, according to their apprehensions, have been \n\n\n320 EXIT GORGES. 1646. \n\nfree from the control of any European power. In their \nfirst migration most of them could say, 07nnia mea mecum \nporto. All the difference as to the second would have been \nthat, so far as they had lessened their substance, so much \nless room would have been necessary for the transportation \nof what remained. Such a scheme would have consisted \nvery well with their notions of civil subjection.\" \n\nThe thought of America with Puritan New Eng- \nland left out is suggestive. But Sir Ferdinando \nGorges missed his destiny. He fought with the stars \nin their courses. \n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII. \n\nTHE FATE OP SIR FERDINANDO'S \" PEOPLE AND \n\n\nIt remains to speak of the subsequent fate of those \nadherents of Gorges, — \" servants, and certain other \nundertakers and tenants belonging unto some of us,\" \nthe companions of Captain Robert Gorges in his ex- \npedition of 1623, and left by him in \" charge and cus- \ntody \" of his \" setled plantation \" when he returned to \nEngland in the spring of 1624,^ — the Episcopalian \nadvance guard of the Puritan migration, those com- \nposing which had, when Winthrop first sailed into \nBoston Bay, already for seven years been living on \nits shores. The sites occupied by them have already \nbeen indicated. Starting from Wessagusset, where \nthe main body still remained, individual settlers had \nbuilt their dwelling-places and established themselves \nwith their families and servants at Charlestown, East \nBoston and Boston ; while Thomson's widow dwelt at \nSquantum, or on the island which still bears her hus- \nband's name. Morton's house at Mt. WoUaston was \ndestroyed in the winter of 1630-1, in the way which \nhas already been described, though he was himself \ndestined to return to America to reckon again with \nWinthrop and the magistrates of Massachusetts. Sir \nChristopher Gardiner was a mere bird of passage. \n\n1 Becords of Council for N. E. April 18, 1635. \n\n\n322 FATE OF SIR FERDINANDO'S PEOPLE. 1625. \n\nA peculiar interest must always attach to William \nBlackstoue as the first European occupant of the pe- \nninsula on which Boston stands, but of his life after \nthe settlement not much is known. When he pointed \nout to Winthrop the spring of fresh, pure water which \nwelled out from the base of the hill on the opposite \nside of which he lived, he was a man of thirty-five. \nWinthrop was eight years older. Blackstone had \nthen been some five years at Shawmnt. For over three \nyears more, until 1634, he continued to live in his hut \non the west slope of Sentry Hill, as Beacon Hill was \ncalled, quite removed from the little community which \nclustered near the water and about the spring on the \nopposite slope, a mile or so away. At first the new \nsettlers did not press upon him, and he seems to have \nheld friendly relations with Winthrop and the rest, \nwho were in the habit of questioning him about the \nclimate, the products of the soil, and the character of \nthe country and of its natives. On the 18th of May, \n1631, he took the oath as a freeman. But presently \npopulation increased, and the original settler began \nto feel its growing nearness. Questions of title, also, \narose. Mather says that \"by happening to sleep \nfirst in an hovel, upon a point of land there, [Black- \nstone] laid claim to all the ground, whereupon there \nnow stands the metropolis of the whole English \nAmerica, until the inhabitants gave him satisfac- \ntion.\" ^ Whether or no he did indeed, as thus as- \nserted, lay claim to \" all the ground,\" no such claim \nwas ever allowed ; for at a court holden on the 1st of \nApril, 1633, it was \"agreed, that Mr. William Black- \nstone shall have fifty acres of ground set out for him \nnear to his house in Boston, to enjoy for ever.\" \n1 Magnalia (Hai-tford, 1855), i. 243. \n\n\n1634. WILLIAM BLACKSTONE. 323 \n\nThe next year affairs did not improve. Population \nwas crowding more and more upon the recluse. He \ndid not belong to the church ; he wore his old canoni- \ncal gown. He was in fact '' without ; \" not of the \nLord's people. As Mather goes on to say : — \" This \nman was, indeed, of a particular humor, and he would \nnever join himself to any of our churches, giving his \nreason for it : ' I came from England because I did \nnot like the lord-bishops ; but I can't join with you, \nbecause I would not be under the lord-brethren.' \" \nAccordingly, in 1634, reserving to himself only the \nsix acres immediately about his hut, he sold to the \ntown all his interest in the rest of the peninsula, in- \ncluding the fifty acres granted to him the year before. \nThe consideration paid him was £30, which was raised \nby levying a rate of six shillings on each householder, \n\" some paying less and some considerably more.\" \nEdmund Quincy, the first of the name in Massachu- \nsetts, was at the head of the committee appointed to \nassess this rate, as also at the same time \" a rate for \nthe cowes keeping, a rate for the goates keeping,\" etc. \nThe tract of land thus purchased was subsequently \ndevoted to public use as the town common. ^ \n\nWith a portion of the purchase-money of his land \nBlackstone bought some cattle, and then, packing his \nbooks and household goods upon them, he turned his \nface to the wilderness. He seems to have felt little \ndisposition to go \" further from the sun,\" as Hutchin- \nson expressed it ; though at the time of his removal, \nor soon afterwards, he seriously thought of accepting \nan invitation to take charge of the church at Agamen- \n\n1 In regard to the location of Blackstone's dwelling- and the bounds \nof the grant made to him, see Memorial History of Boston, i. 84, n., \n552. \n\n\n324 FATE OF SIR FERDINANDO'S PEOPLE. 1634. \n\nticus. Indeed, the people there claimed that he prom- \nised to do so, but afterwards decided otherwise, his \nhopes being \" fed with the expectation of far greater \nprofit by his husbandry [in Khode Island] then he \nshould have had by his ministry [in Maine] ; which \nGod only knows.\" ^ In any event, when he left Bos- \nton driving his little herd across the Neck through \nRoxbury, he turned his back on the '' very good house, \nwith an inclosure to it, for the planting of corn ; and \nalso a ^stipend of twenty pounds per annum,\" which \nawaited his acceptance at Agamenticus, and directed \nhis steps southward out of the limits of the Massachu- \nsetts colony. Passing through the territory of the \nPlymouth colony, he at last found a spot which pleased \nhim, on the banks of a river which emptied, at no great \ndistance further on, into Narragansett Bay. There, \nsetting himself down, he built another house and \nplanted a new orchard ; and there he passed the re- \nmainder of life. He revisited Boston several times, \nriding, as tradition says, on a trained bull ; and on \none of these visits, in 1659, he took to himself, as \nwife, the widow of John Stephenson, living in School \nStreet, not far from the house in which Governor \nWinthrop had died ten years before.^ They were \nmarried on the 4th of July, Governor Endicott offi- \nciating as the magistrate, Blackstone being over sixty \nat the time, while his wife could have been no longer \nyoung, as her oldest child, by her former husband, \nhad been born sixteen years before. The two, never- \ntheless, had offspring. Blackstone's married life lasted \n\n1 rv. Mass. Hist. Coll. vii. 196. \n\n2 It is a singular fact that, though allusion is apparently once or \ntwice made to Blackstone by -Winthrop in his history, no mention of \nBlackstone name is there found. \n\n\n1675. THE HERMIT OF STUDY HILL. 325 \n\nfourteen years, his wife dying before him in June, \n1673, while he survived her nearly two years, until the \n26th of May, 1675. Koger Williams, writing a few \ndays later to Governor John Winthrop, Jr., of Con- \nnecticut, gives these details of his end : — \n\n\" About a fortnight since your old acquaintance Mr. \nBlackstone departed this life in the fourscore year of his \nage ; four days before liis death he had a great pain in his \nbreast, and back, and bowells : afterward he said he was \nwell, had no paines, and should live, but he grew fainter, \nand yealded up his breath without a groane.\" ^ \n\nHe had been in America, at the time of his death, \na few months only less than fifty-two years, forty of \nwhich he had passed at Study Hill, — by which name \nhe called his Rhode Island home. At Study Hill, as \nat Boston before, he seems to have led a quiet, peace- \nable life ; yet, quiet as his life was, and much given up \nto that meditation of which he was so fond, it could \nnot have been otherwise than laborious. Coming to \nAmerica as he did, a young man of studious habits, — \na graduate of a college, bringing his library with him, \n— it may be taken for granted that in those days he \ndid not come unattended. He must have had one or \nmore servants ; and, indeed, traditions to that effect \nsurvive. Yet he had to build houses and to exact a \nliving from the soil. This implied labor ; and his \ndays could not have been either wholly or in chief \npart given up to reading or to reflection. We also \nknow that it was his custom in his latter years occa- \nsionally to preach at Providence, though what his ex- \nact tenets were does not appear; except that, though \nliving near Roger Williams, he was reputed to be \" far \nfrom his opinions.\" ^ \n\n1 IV. Mass. Hist. Coll. vi. 299. 2 m. ^ass. Hist. Coll. iii. 97. \n\n\n326 FATE OF SIR FERDINANDO'S PEOPLE. 1675. \n\nNot a little has since been said and written of Black- \nstone, to the effect that he was \" a memorable man,\" \nthat lie was \" centuries in advance of the age \" in \nwhich he lived, that his motto was \" Toleration,\" and \nhe *' possessed qualifications which, under other cir- \ncumstances, might have made him one of the foremost \nmen of New England.\" This may or may not be so, \nbut the simple fact is we have no means of forming \nany definite judgment about Blackstone's opinion, or \nintellectual power. He was a singular man ; and, as \nis apt to be the case with singular men when dead, he \nexcites curiosity. The graduate of a university, he \ncrossed the ocean almost immediately after taking his \ndegree, and he carried with him into the wilderness \nhis books and his studious habits. He then chanced \nto make his home on the site of a future great city, \nwhere he lived the life of a devout recluse, — almost a \nhermit. He disliked restraint and society ; but there \nis no reason whatever to suppose that he had a pecul- \niarly active or a peculiarly vigorous mind. If he was \ngifted in that way, he succeeded most effectually in \nhiding his light from the world. \n\nHe died in good time. Just one month later King \nPhilip's War broke out, and his home, with every- \nthing it contained, was among the first that went in \nthe general destruction. Those rare Bibles, those \nlarge English and Latin folios, those quartos and duo- \ndecimos, more than one hundred and sixty in number, \nwhich had been the companions of a whole life of soli- \ntude, — and which would now, could they but have \nbeen preserved, be the most precious treasures of the \nlibrary so fortunate as to possess them, — all perished. \nNot a leaf was saved. With the rest went \" ten paper \nbooks \" which in the inventory of the dead man's \n\n\n1675. \" TEN PAPER BOOKS:' 327 \n\nproperty were valued at five shillings, or sixpence each. \nIt is not unfair to presume that these were the manu- \nscript records of his life, — that at least they contained \nthat weather register which Winthrop referred to, as \nhis first winter's experience in Massachusetts was \ndrawing to a close. Had they been preserved, these \nmight have been among the most valuable and inter- \nesting of all the documents relating to early Ameri- \ncan history ; but it is equally probable that consisting, \nas has been suggested, wholly or in part of sermons of \nhis own composition,^ they would have been among \nthe most disappointing. As a rule the meditations of \ndevout hermits have not proved peculiarly edifying to \nsubsequent generations. Morell and Blackstone, cer- \ntainly companions, not improbably were also kindred \nspirits, and Morell's poem would teach us not to put \ntoo high a value on Blackstone's \" paper books.\" \n\nBlackstone himself seems never to have had trouble \nwith the Indians. He had lived all his life among \nthem, and, speaking their language, he understood \ntheir character. Apparently, also, he possessed that \nfaculty of morally impressing himself on savage na- \ntures, which has since been so highly developed in \nAfrican explorers of the Livingstone type. It is \ntherefore possible, though hardly probable, that, had \nhe not died when he did, he and his might have es- \ncaped harm at the hands of Philip's people. Black- \nstone left a son and a daughter, neither of whom, at \nthe time of his death, could have been over fifteen \nyears of age. Both subsequently married, and the son \nproved no credit to his parentage. A man of intem- \nperate habits, he, with his wife Katherine, was in \n1713 warned out of the town of Attleborough. He \n1 Amory, William Blaxton, Coll. of Bostonian Society, i. 5. \n\n\n328 FATE OF SIR FERDINANDO'S PEOPLE. 1675. \n\nmust then have been more than fifty years of age. \nSubsequently he settled in Connecticut, and, dying, \nleft descendants who still perpetuate the Boston her- \nmit's name ; but that will always be preserved in con- \nnection with the river whose waters, tired with mov- \ning the wheels of well-nigh innumerable factories, \nflow forever by the spot which, through more than \nforty years, was Blackstone's wilderness home and the \nscene of his meditations.^ \n\nMuch more is known of Samuel Maverick after the \nsettlement than is known of Blackstone, for at a later \nperiod the former played a prominent part in the his- \ntory of the colonies. To the end he retained the \nchurch-and-state bias of the Gorges movement ; and, \n\n^ The facts in relation to Blackstone have been collected with much \ncare by Bliss in his History of Rehoboth (pp. 1-14), and by the Rev. F. \nB. Da Costa, in his two papers printed in the Churchman of September \n25 and October 2, 1880, and reprinted in pamphlet. A comprehen- \nsive list of other authorities relating to him is to be found in the ed- \nitor's note in the Memorial History of Boston, i. 84. In regard to \nBlackstone's English origin and descendants in America, see also Mr. \nAmory's paper in Coll. Bostonian Society, i. 3-2.5. There is quite a \nremarkable letter from the Rhode Island genealogist, S. C Newman, \nabout Blackstone and his descendants, in the Appendix 0, of the sec- \nond volume (p. 568) of Arnold's Rhode Island. In it the writer says : \n\" William Blackstone was descended from a family of some distinc- \ntion, who had long inhabited the vicinity of Salisbury, in the west of \nEngland ; he was born in 1595 ; entered Emanuel College, Cambridge, \nEngland, and in 1017, took the degree of A. B. ; in 1621, received \nthe degree of A. M , and entered into Episcopal orders ; in 1623, \ncame to America with the expedition of Robert Gorges, whose ob- \njects were to establish an Episcopal colony.\" \n\nThis letter is dated December 3, 1850. It contains no reference to \nauthorities for the facts so absolutely stated in it, some of which have \nbeen established only by documents published since the letter was \nwritten. Williams' letter, for instance, in which he says that Black- \nstone died at fourscore in 1675, was first printed in 1863. In view of \nthese facts the accuracy of Mr. Newman's statements, so far as they \ncan yet be verified by generally attainable authorities, is most re- \nmarkable. \n\n\n1624. SAMUEL MAVERICK. 329 \n\nindeed, he became its last, as he was its most formi- \ndable, representative. But a brief sketch of the man's \nlife will here suffice.^ Born in 1602, in the county of \nCornwall, when he came over to America Maverick \nwas twenty-two years old, and he was but twenty-eight \nwhen Winthrop landed on the Charlestown shore. \nThat when he came he was already married, and \nbrought his young wife, Amias, with him, may be in- \nferred from the fact that in 1648 he executed a deed \nof land to a son, who, being then of age, must have \nbeen born at least as early as 1627. Maverick prob- \nably came out to New England very much as David \nThomson came out at nearly the same time. They \nwere both young men, and both newly married ; but, \nwhile Thomson established himself alone at Piscata- \nqua, Maverick, more closely connected with the Gorges \nmovement, went at once to Boston Bay ; though it \nwould appear he did not leave England in company \nwith Robert Gorges, in 1623, but a year later.^ Sub- \nsequently the two couples became near neighbors, and \na first child may have been born at about the same \ntime to each. It has been surmised that the Thomson \nchild was born in 1625.^ \n\nWhether he came to New England in search of ad- \nventure, or looking for a home, it is clear that Maver- \nick remained to trade. A man of gentle birth and \ngood education, he was, as will presently be seen, \nnoted for his hospitality ; and his letters are as well \n\n^ All the facts and documents in relation to Samuel Maverick have \nheen most patiently collected and sifted out by W. H. Sumner, in his \nHistory of East Boston. To him and his descendants that author de- \nvotes no less than a hundred pag^es of his work. Where no other au- \nthorities are indicated, reliance is placed, therefore, in the present \naccount, on Mr. Sumner's book. \n\n2 Supra, 161. \n\n» Deane in Proc. Mass. Hist. Sac. 1875-6, 373. \n\n\n330 FA TE OF SIR FERDINANDO'S PEOPLE. 1630-5. \n\nwritten as those of Winthrop or Bradford, or even as \nthat famous History of the Kebellion, with the author \nof which Maverick carried on, at a later day, an active \nofficial correspondence. A generous liver, he was not \nhimself a Puritan : nor does he ever seem to have had \nany liking for Puritans ; as, certainly, they had none \nfor him. \n\nIt has already been told how, when Winthrop and \nhis party first sailed into Boston Bay, on the ^ day of \nJune, 1630, they found Maverick living in his fortified \nhouse at Winnisimmet, as what is now Chelsea was \nthen called,^ and the Governor passed the night with \nthe \" old planter,\" being entertained in a \" very lov- \ning and courteous \" manner. Though Maverick made \napplication to be admitted a freeman on the -^ of \nOctober, 1631, he for some reason did not take the \noath until the ^ of October of the next year. His \n\" being strong for the Lordly Prelaticall power \" may \nhave stood in his way. Then, and long after, he was \nactively engaged in commerce, owning vessels and \nhimself trading in them up and down the coast. He \nheld, under a patent from Gorges, a tract of land on \nthe Agamenticus ; and in 1635-6 he passed an entire \nyear in Virginia, coming back with his vessels loaded \nwith goats and heifers, and telling the credulous Win- \nthrop wonderful stories of the things he had seen. At \nother times, both Winthrop and Dudley were partners \nwith him in his ventures. \n\nThere was evidently some connection between the \nlong absence of Maverick in Virginia at this time, \nand the treatment he had undergone at the hands of \nthe magistrates and colony during the governor-gen- \neralship panic of March, 1634. It will be remem- \n\n1 Supra, 161. \n\n\n1636-8. JOHN JOSSELYN. 331 \n\nberecl ^ that he had then not only been forbidden to \nentertain strangers, but had been ordered by the Gen- \neral Court to prepare to remove from his house at \nNoddle's Island to Boston. As the alarm passed \naway this order was rescinded, and it was during the \nnext year, while Gorges was still at work in London, \nthat Maverick went to Virginia. Returning in Au- \ngust, 1636, he would seem to have resumed his old life \nand hospitable ways 5 for when, in Jidy, 1637, during \nthe full bitterness of the Hutchinsonian controversy, \nGovernor Winthrop invited young Harry Vane, whom \nhe had shortly before succeeded in office, to meet \nthe Lord Ley at a dinner given in honor of the lat- \nter, not only did the petulant and excitable heir of \nRaby Castle refuse \" to come (alleging by letter that \nhis conscience withheld him), but also, at the same \nhour, he went over to Noddle's Island to dine with \nMr. Maverick, and carried the Lord Ley with him.\" \n\nDuring the summer of 1638 an English gentleman \nof ancient family and good education, John Josselyn \nby name, visited America. He was a son of Sir \nThomas Josselyn of Kent, and had a brother, one of \nGorges' people, living at Scarborough, Maine. This \nbrother he was on his way to visit when he arrived at \nBoston on the ^ July. In his account of what he \nsaw there at this time, he gives quaint glimpses of \nSamuel Maverick. Arriving upon the —^ he says \nthat a week later, on the ~ : — \n\n\"I went ashore upon Noddles Island to Mr. Samuel \nMaverick (for my passage) the only hospitable man in all \nthe Countrey, giving entertainment to all Comers gratis. . . . \nHaving refreshed myself for a day or two upon Noddles- \nIsland, I crossed the Bay in a small Boat to Boston, which \n\n1 Supra, 288. \n\n\n332 FATE OF SIR FERDINANDO'S PEOPLE. 1G38. \n\nthen was rather a Village, than a Town, there being not \nabove Twenty or thirty houses ; and presenting my respects \nto Mr. Winthorpe, the Govern our, and to Mr. Cotton the \nTeacher of Bostoii Church, to whom I delivered from Mr. \nFrancis Quarles the poet, the Translation of the 16, 25, 51, \n88, 113, and 137 Psalms into English Meeter, for his ap- \nprobation ; being civilly treated by all I had occasion to \nconverse with, I returned in the Evening to my lodging.\" \n\nRemaining in Boston only two days at this time, \nMr. Josselyn, on the ^ of July, set out for the east- \nward, where he passed the next two months, anchor- \ning in Boston Harbor again on the ^ of \n\n\nSeptember \nOctober \n\n\n\"The Thirtieth day of September [Oct. 10, n. s.], I \nwent ashore upon AWtZ/es-Island, where when I was come \nto Mr. Mavericks he would not let me go aboard no more, \nuntil the Ship was ready to set sail. . . . \n\n\"In the afternoon I walked into the Woods on the back \nside of the house, and happening into a fine broad walk \n(which was a sledgway) I wandered till I chanc't to spye \na fruit, as I thought, like a pine Apple plated wath scales, it \nwas as big as the crown of a Womans hat ; I made bold to \nstep unto it, with an intent to have gathered it, no sooner \nhad I toucht it, but hundreds of Wasps were about me ; at \nla,st I cleared myself from them, being stung only by one \nupon the upper lip, glad I w^as that I scaped so well ; But \nby that time I was come into the house my lip was swell'd \nso extreamly that they hardly knew me but by my Gar- \nments.\" \n\nEight days later Josselyn sailed for England. This \noccurred during the autumn of 1638, and, for the next \nsix or eight years, Maverick continued to live on Nod- \ndle's Island, getting on with his neighbors as best he \ncould ; but, in this matter, the best was badly enough. \nAn outspoken member of the Church of England, he \n\n\n1640-8. \"AN INQUISITION-LIKE COURSE:' 333 \n\nwas living in the midst of Independents; and, among \nascetics, he maintained a sometimes too generous hospi- \ntality. His relations with Wintlirop were of the most \nfriendly character, but he was so conscious of the hostile \nfeeling which existed towards him generally that, as \nearly even as 1640, he had made up his mind to follow \nthe example of Blackstone, and, through a voluntary \nexile to escape the society of the \" lord-brethren.\" ^ \nHe did not then carry out this plan, and six years \nafterwards the always latent ill-feeling gathered to a \nhead, taking the form of active persecution. This \nwas in 1648, when the movement in direction of a \nreformed franchise and larger religious liberty first \nmade itself felt in Massachusetts, finding expression \nin what is known as the Dr. Kobert Childs memorial ; \nand the ruthless way in which it was met and sup- \npressed, by the constituted authorities, is one of those \nepisodes in New England history which yet remain to \nbe impartially recounted. \n\nMaverick's name was one of those signed to tke \n\n^ There is something' almost touching- in the isolation of one genial \nman in that intolerant and frozen social atmosphere, as revealed in the \nfollowing extract from a letter which Maverick wrote to Winthrop at \nthis time : — \"I know there want not those which hunt after anything \nwhich may redound to my discredit. Yourself, ever honored Sir, and \nhonest Capt. Gibbons, are the only men which ever dealt plainly with \nme, by way of reproof and admonition, when you have heard of any- \nthing in which I have been faulty, which I hope hath not been \nwater spilt xapon a stone, and by it you have much obliged me. There \nare those which take an inquisition-like course, by endeavoring to \ngather what they can from malcontented servants, or the like ; which \ncourse I conceive is not warrantable ; the former course is more com- \nmendable, and will work better effects. I hope God will enable me \nin some measure to walk inoffensively, but finding by ten years' ex- \nperience that I am ever sore to divers here, I have seriously resolved \nto remove hence. . . . My well wishes shall ever attend the Planta- \ntion, and yourself and yours in particular, however. Be pleased to \npass by my too long neglect of visiting you, having not been in Boston \nthese four months.\" iv. Mass. Hist. Coll. vii. 308. \n\n\n334 FATE OF SIR FERDINANDO'S PEOPLE. 1630. \n\nChilds memorial, and he had probably taken an active \npart in the political agitation, if such it could be \ncalled, which led to it. In any event, he soon found \nhimself in serious trouble, for not only was he impris- \noned, but he was ordered to pay a heavy fine. This \nhe refused to do, and, as matter of precaution, gave \na deed of Noddle's Island to his son. A little later, \nin 1650, he sold the island outright, and seems then \nat last, a man verging on fifty, to have moved away \nfrom the place which had been his home for twenty- \nfive years. It does not appear where he passed the \nnext ten years ; but, when the Restoration took place, \nhe found his way to England, and there labored stren- \nuously at the court of Charles II. to have a commis- \nsion ajDpointed to supervise on the sjDot the affairs of \nthe American colonies. It was the revival, in another \nform, of Gorges' scheme of the governor-generalship. \n\nThis time the effort was crowned with success, and \nin July, 1664, Maverick landed for the second time in \nNew England, one of four royal commissioners, sent \nout with vessels of war and soldiers, to visit the col- \nonies, and, in the King's name, to hear and determine \nall matters of complaint. \n\nThe proceedings of the Commission of 1664 are a \nportion of New England history, and it is not neces- \nsary to recount them here. As Maverick well knew \nwhen he came, he had to deal with a stubborn race. \nDoubtless he confidently believed that he should suc- \nceed, and that his former persecutors would at last \nsubmit their necks to the yoke ; but, if he did indeed \ncherish any such belief, he was doomed to bitter disap- \npointment. Not only did the magistrates and people \nof the Massachusetts Bay refuse the yoke, but, on the \n24th of May, 1665, a trumpet was sounded at certain \n\n\n1664-76. \" WITH SOUND OF TRUMPETS 335 \n\nconspicuous points in the streets of Boston, and Mav- \nerick and his colleagues were publicly denounced in \ntheir own hearing as usurpers. This, too, was done \nby order of the General Court, and the commissioners \nwere powerless ; for, with the whole community arrayed \nagainst them, they had with them no armed alien force \nsufficient to compel obedience. So, presently, it was \nthey who had to submit and go elsewhere, — probably \ndeeming it more prudent in dealing with Massachu- \nsetts to bide their time. Their time never came. \n\nHis official duties as commissioner ultimately car- \nried Maverick to New York, and he does not seem to \nhave again made Boston his permanent home. Some- \nwhere about 1668 the Duke of York, in consideration \nof his services and fidelity to the King, gave him a \nhouse \"in the Broadway.\" Its exact locality is not \nknown, but in it the stout-hearted old Episcopal roy- \nalist is supposed to have lived out the balance of his \ndays. The exact time of his death is not known, but \nit was before the year 1676. He left, by his wife \nAmias, two sons and a daughter, whose descendants \nmultiplied in the land which their ancestors were \namong the first to occupy. \n\nSocial lines were distinctly marked in the seven- \nteenth century. Winthrop, in his state papers, writ- \ning as governor, talked of \" the common people.\" \nThe \" common people \" were whipped and set in the \nstocks when they misbehaved themselves ; the gentry \nwere fined and admonished.^ Blackstone and Maver- \nick were men of family, education and property, — \n\n1 \"43 No man shall be beaten with above forty stripes, nor shall \nany true g'entlemen, nor any man equall to a gentleman, be punished \n■with whipping-, unless his crime be very shameful, and his course of \nlife vitious and profligate.\" Body of Liberties, 1641, lu. Mass. Hist. \nCo//, viii. 224. \n\n\n336 FATE OF SIR FERDINANDO'S PEOPLE. 1G30-1. \n\ngentlemen. They were called planters, and they \nowned servants. This was not the case with Thomas \nWalford. He was a blacksmith, — one of Winthrop's \n\"common people.\" While, therefore, the Puritan \nmagistrates showed some hesitation in their methods \nof dealing with the two former, they seem to have \nshown none whatever towards the latter. He was an \nEjjiscopalian. That he was also a worthy man, and \nhad in him the making of a good citizen, is evident \nfrom the fact that afterwards, through thirty years \nand until his death in 1660, he was much esteemed at \nPortsmouth, to which place he moved when compelled \nto leave Charlestown. At Portsmouth he found a \nrefuge and a welcome ; grants of land were made to \nhim, and in due time he was chosen one of the select- \nmen, and a warden of the church. Very different \nseems to have been his treatment by the Massachu- \nsetts colony, the severity of which, though passed over \nas not deserving of remark by some of the historians \nof New England, has by the more liberal of them \nbeen referred to as an incident which \" must be re- \ngretted.\" 1 Walford had lived long in that wilderness, \nand built himself a home there, in which he and his \nfamily dwelt in a rude and secure independence, and \nnow, probably, he declined to conform ; for he liked \nnot the ways of the newcomers, and would not readily \nsubmit to their severe authority, — exercised in the \nmost trivial matters, and especially in regard to Sab- \nbath observances. Very possibly he had been brought \nup in the Sabbath observances, far from Puritanic, \nrecommended in King James' Book of Sports. Ac- \ncordingly, it was not long before he found himself in \ntrouble, and at a court held on the ^^ of May, 1631, \n\n^ Savage in notes to Winthrop, i *53. \n\n\n1631-4. THOMAS WALFORD. 337 \n\nafter ordering John Legge to be \" severely whipped \nthis day at Boston, and afterwards, soe soone as con- \nveniently may be, at Salem,\" the magistrates took up \nthe case of Thomas Walford. It was disposed of as \nfollows : — \n\n\" Tho : Walford, of Charlton, is ffyned 40 shillings, and \nis injoyned, hee and his wife, to departe out of the lymits \nof this pattent before the 20th day of October nexte, under \npaine of confiscacion of his goods, for his contempt of au- \nthoritie, and confrontinge officers, &c.\" \n\nThen, after ordering Thomas Bartlett to be whipped, \nand John Norman to be fined, the court had a jury \nimpanelled, and proceeded to dispose of the famous \nassault and battery case of Dexter against Endicott, \nwhich has already been alluded to.^ \n\nThe fine Walford settled by killing a wolf ; but the \norder of banishment does not seem to have been at \nthat time enforced, for, twenty-eight months later, the \ncourt again orders \" that the goods of Thomas Wal- \nford shal be sequestred, and remaine in the hands of \nAnchient Gennison, to satisfie the debts hee owes in the \nBay to severall persons.\" On the 9th of the subse- \nquent January (1634), his name still appears in the \nlist of inhabitants of Charlestown. Nevertheless, at \nor about this time, Walford and his family left for- \never \" the English palisadoed and thatched house \" \nwhich, \" a little way up from Charles river side,\" had \nfor nearly ten years been their home, and journeyed \nnorth to find, if a less congenial clime, more tolerant \nat least if not more sympathetic neighbors. \n\nThe little settlement at Wessagusset would mean- \nwhile seem to have pursued the even tenor of its life, \n1 .Supra, 260. \n\n\n338 FATE OF SIR FERDINANDO'S PEOPLE. Nov. \n\nundisturbed by the presence of the larger community \nwhich had established itself on the other side of the \nbay. The two were separated from each other by ten \nmiles of unbroken wilderness, through which ran one \nnot inconsiderable river, and the communication be- \ntween them was wholly by water. In winter they \nwere practically cut off from each other. It was \nyears, also, before the intervening region began to fill \nup ; so that in September, 1634, Winthrop noted the \nfollowing incident in his journal : — \n\n\" About this time one Alderman, of Bear Cove [Hing- \nham], being about fifty years old, lost his way between Dor- \nchester and Wessaguscus, and wandered in the woods and \nswamps three days and two nights, without taking any food, \nand, being near spent, God brought him to Scituate ; but he \nhad torn his legs much.\" \n\nIn this remote, secluded little hamlet, dwelt a few \nfamilies, who in 1630 had been there seven years. \nWilliam Jeffreys and John Bursley were apparently \nthe two leading men of the place, and their names \nonly, among those of its inhabitants, have come down \nto us. They neither of them seem to have had any \ntrouble with the Puritan authorities, and at a later \nday Bursley was more than once a member of the \nGeneral Court, while Jeffreys acted as commissioner. \nNone of their descendants of the same name are now \nto be found in Weymouth. \n\nThe first mention of the village, after the migration \nof 1630, is met with in connection with a formal visit \nmade by the Massachusetts magistrates on those of \nPlymouth. It took place between Ztl^'l and No- \nvember -l^, 1632, and Winthrop has left an account of \nit. On the morning of the first-named day, he being \nthen governor, the Kev. Mr. Wilson and others went \n\n\n1632. ''HUE'S folly:' 339 \n\naboard the Lyon, a vessel recently from England \nand lying- in the harbor, and Mr. Pierce, its master, \nthereupon took them in a shallop, to Wessagusset. \nThere they all passed the night, being \" bountifully \" \nentertained with store of turkeys, geese, ducks, etc. \nThe next day Captain Pierce returned to his vessel, — \nin which, by the way, he was wrecked a few days la- \nter, on the capes of Virginia, — while Winthrop and \nthe others trudged on to Plymouth, arriving there on \nthe evening of the \"-^ of l'T,Z>^,. Returning, the party \nleft Plymouth on the morning of the J-^J of J^,, \nGovernor Bradford, with the pastor and elder of the \nPlymouth church, \" accompanying them near half a \nmile out of town in the dark ; \" for, in order to finish \ntheir journey to Wessagusset that day, they had to \nstart an hour before daylight : — \n\n\" When they came to the great river, they were carried \nover by one Luddam, their guide (as they had been when \nthey came, the stream being very strong, and up to the \ncrotch) ; so the governour called that passage Luddam's \nFord. Thence they came to a place called Hue's Cross. \nThe governour, being displeased at the name, in respect \nthat such things might hereafter give the Papists occasion \nto say that their religion was first planted in these parts, \nchanged the name, and called it Hue's Folly. So they came \nthat evening to Wessaguscus, where they were entertained \nas before, and the next day came safe to Boston.\" \n\nA year after this, Wessagusset was described, by \none who then visited it, as \" but a small village ; yet \nit is very pleasant, and healthful, very good ground, \nand is well timbered, and hath good store of hay- \nground.\" 1 In September, 1635, it was, by order of \nthe General Court, made a plantation under the name \n\n^ Young, Chron. of Mass. 395. \n\n\n340 FATE OF SIR FERDINANDO'S PEOPLE. 1635-8. \n\nof We}Tnouth, and twenty-one families from England \nwere allowed there to establish themselves under the \nministry of the Rev. Mr. Hull ; but, even with this \naddition to its inhabitants, the place was the next \nyear referred to in the records of the General Court \nas \" a very small town:\" Exactly what this meant at \nthat time, it is impossible now to say ; but one year \nafterwards, during the Pequot War, Weymouth, as \nits portion of the general levy, was assessed X27 in \nmoney, and called upon to furnish five men. Under \nthe system of computation adopted by the best New \nEngland authorities, this would indicate a total pop- \nulation of about three hundred and fifty souls.^ A \nyear later, in 1638, the little community came in for \neven more than its full share of the religious troubles \nof the i^eriod. \n\nIndeed, for several years it seems to have existed \nin a state of incessant theological turmoil. A strong \nalien element made its presence felt, — other Black- \nstones, Mavericks and Walfords, — who would not \ntake themselves off. The Rev. Mr. Hull and his \nfamilies were newcomers, and not of the original set- \ntlement. Accordingly Mr. Hull soon found himself \n\n^ In 1634, the population of Massachusetts Bay is estimated to \nhave been \" between three and four thousand.\" (Palfrey, i. 388.) \nWinthrop, writing- in May of that year, said, \" in all, about four thou- \nsand souls and upward.\" (Proc. of Mass. Hist. Soc December 14, \n1882.) The great miration took place during the next few years. \nIn June, 1634, there arrived in Boston \" fourteen great ships, and one \nat Salem.\" (Winthrop, i. 134.) In one day in June, 1635, eleven \nships came into the bay. {lb. 192.) In 1640 the migration came to \nan end, and about four thousand families in all, or twenty-one thou- \nsand souls, had then come over (Palfrey, i. 584), of which fifteen \nthousand were settled in Massachusetts. It seems fair to estimate \nthat three fourths of these came over before 1638. In that case, if the \nlevy of Weymouth in 1637 was fairly proportionate (5:160), its total \npopulation would have been as stated in the text. \n\n\n1637-44. THE WEYMOUTH CHURCH. 341 \n\nconfronted in his ministry by a rival, the Rev. Mr. \nJenner. Then, in 1637, the Rev. Mr. Lenthal put in \nan appearance, followed in the succeeding year by the \nRev. Mr. Newman. So grievous was the trouble that \nin January, 1638, a party of elders from the Boston \nchurch visited Weymouth in the role of peace-makers, \nand although they were reported to have \"had good \nsuccess of their prayers,\" it was only three months \nlater that the General Court itself took the matter in \nhand. Its method of procedure was not wanting in \nvigor, and the Rev. Mr. Lenthal was made to see rea- \nson why he should publicly recant. One of his fol- \nlowers was fined, and another whipped ; while yet a \nthird was significantly notified that the General Court \nwas \" weary of him, unless he reform.\" But it is not \nnecessary to here enter with any detail into the vexed \nhistory of the Weymouth church.^ The policy of the \ncolony was a simple one, — those wdio would not con- \nform could be silent, or they might go away. Massa- \nchusetts was no place for dissentients. Accordingly, \nas the Wessagusset people either could not or would \nnot go away, their conforming was a mere question of \ntime ; and, as they were few in number and all plain, \nsimple folks, the process of absorption, when measured \nin years, did not take long. In 1644 it was over. A \nshort experience of the pastoral care of one superior \nman — the learned, faithful and devout Samuel New- \nman — had sufficed, and Weymouth contentedly \nmerged itself in the Puritan community which was \npressing upon it from either side. As years went on, \nit even passed from memory that the original settle- \n\n1 But see the paper entitled \"Conference of the Elders of Massa- \nchusetts,\" by J. Hammond Trumbull, relating to the Lenthal church \ntroubles in Weymouth, in Congregational Quarterly Rev. (April, \n1877), xix. ^^2-48. \n\n\n342 FATE OF SIR FERDINANDO'S PEOPLE. 1666. \n\nment under Robert Gorges had proved a permanent \none, and the closest historical scrutiny failed to detect, \nin record or tradition, a trace of Episcopal teachings. \nThe leaven had been wholly worked out. \n\nWhat became of the widow of David Thomson, \nafter the settlement, nowhere appears. Apparently \nshe continued in the occupation of the island which \nstill bears her husband's name. Subsequently, in \n1648, it was regularly granted by the General Court \nto her son, John Thomson, who had then recently \nattained his majority. He does not seem to have \nprospered ; for, three years later, the island thus \ngranted was seized for debt, and, after being sold twice \nor more in the intermediate time, it at length passed, \nin the year 1666, into the hands of the Lynde family, \nwho held it for over a century.^ \n\nLike Blackstone, Maverick, Walford, Jeffreys, Burs- \nley and all the other Gorges planters, David Thomson \nleft descendants, who became merged for all time in \nthe general Anglo-American community. \n\n1 Lynde Diaries, 32, n. \n\n\nCHAPTER XIX. \n\nOF THE SUBSEQUENT FORTUNES OF THOMAS MORTON, \nWALTER BAGNALL AND EDWARD GIBBONS, ONCE \nOF MERRY-MOUNT. \n\nWith three exceptions nothing is known of the \nsubsequent lives of those who in 1625 sat down with \nCaptain Wollaston at Passonagessit. These three \nwere Thomas Morton, Walter Bagnall, of Richmond \nIsland, Me., and Edward Gibbons, afterwards a prom- \ninent member of the Puritan community, and the \ncommander-in-chief of its military establishment. It \nhas already been noticed that Wollaston himself was \na mere bird of passage.^ Nothing more is heard of \nhim, or of those who came with him, whether his part- \nners and associates or his hired servants, excepting \nonly the three who have been named. \n\nWhether Gorges really did turn Morton adrift in \n1637, as he asserted to Winthrop, or only professed to \nhave done so, as would be inferred from the attestation \nof the Agamenticus charter of 1641, there can be little \ndoubt that the fortunes of the latter steadily waned \nafter the publication of the New English Canaan. ^ \nWhat became of him during the next few years does \nnot appear, though probably he hung about London, a \npoor dependent on Gorges. Possibly when the Civil \n\n1 Supra, 162. \n\n2 For authorities, etc., in relation to Morton, see introductory matter \nto New English Canaan, Prince Soc. ed. \n\n\n344 SUBSEQUENT FORTUNES. 1641-3. \n\nWar broke out, aacl Sir Ferdinando sided with the \nKing, Morton may, in the complications arising out of \nthe Plough Patent, have turned against his old patron \nand attached himself to the Parliamentarians, Rigby \nand Cleeve ; for, as early as 1637 Gorges speaks of \nhim as Cleeve's agent, and at that time Morton would \nseem to have sent Cleeve to America in crazy search \nof \" the great lake Erocoise.\" A certain amount of \nplausibility is given to the theory that he did thus \ndesert Gorges, and seek the favor of his enemies, by \nthe fact that Morton is next met with in Plymouth, \npretending to be the agent of Rigby, the Puritan \ncolonel and member of Parliament, and to hold from \nhim a commission to look after his affairs in America. \nMorton even produced certain papers, claiming that \nhe had a protection from the Parliament ; but he took \ngood care not to allow them to be examined. This \nwas in the summer of 1643. His reap23earance at \nPlymouth after thirteen years of absence naturally \nexcited no little remark ; for though there was ap- \nparently no copy of the New English Canaan in the \nPlymouth colony, the character of the book was per- \nfectly well known, and it was considered \" infamouse \nand scurillous.\" It would, indeed, have been not un- \nnatural if the friends of Dr. Fuller, who had now been \ndead nine years, should have held the references to \nhim in lively recollection. Governor Winslow, also, \nwas then at Plymouth, and it is not probable that he \nhad forgotten the seventeen weeks in the Fleet prison \nfor which he was indebted to the author of the book. \n\nThe former Master of Mare-Mount and Lord of \nMisrule had, it would seem, now taken good care not \nto put himself within reach of the Massachusetts \nmagistrates by landing at Boston ; and even at Plym- \n\n\n1644. '^ CONTENT TO DRINKE WATERS 345 \n\noutli his petition that he might be permitted to tarry \nthere for a time was by no means acceded to as a mat- \nter of course. One party was in favor of sending the \n\" petie-fogger of Furnefells Inne \" out of the province \nforthwith ; but Governor Bradford, more merciful, \ngave way so far as to consent that his old enemy might \npass the winter at Plymouth, but only on condition \nthat he took himself off with the opening of spring. \nSo there Morton remained. It was twenty-one years \nsince he had first landed in New England, and he must \nnow have been well on in life. He had been a wan- \nderer and a free-liver. His health was broken. He \nwas poor too, — so poor that at Plymouth he was glad \nto live \" meanely at four shillings per week and con- \ntent to drinke water, so he [might] dyet at that price.\" \nThough he thus no longer enjoyed the good cheer of \nMerry-Mount, the old man seems still to have retained \nhis love of field sports ; and once more he excited the \nfierce wrath of Miles Standish by wandering gun in \nhand over the Duxbury marshes. \n\nThough the territory which Sir Alexander Rigby \nclaimed, and of which subsequently the Parliamen- \ntary commission put him in possession, lay wholly in \nMaine, Morton either now was, or pretended to be, \nengaged in some scheme of settlement at New Haven \nor on the Narragansett. His ostensible business at \nPlymouth was to interest others in this project. If \nwe accept Winslow's statement that he secured the \n\" promise of but one person who is old, weak and de- \ncrepid, a very atheist and fit companion for him,\" his \nsuccess was limited. \n\nThe next spring, in compliance apparently with the \ncondition imposed by Bradford, Morton left Plymouth. \nHe went at first to Maine, where the royalist party \n\n\n346 SUBSEQUENT FORTUNES. 1644. \n\nwas showing some signs of life, and on his way he \neven ventured within the ^Massachusetts jurisdiction, \ngoing by water to Gloucester. Endicott was on the \nwatch, ready to pounce upon him like a hawk, and a \nwarrant for his apj^rehension was quickly on its way \nto Cape Ann ; but the bird seems to have taken flight \nto Maine in time to escape it. How long Morton re- \nmained at the eastward, or what he did there, does not \nappear, and he is next, in August of the same summer, \nheard of in Rhode Island, claiming now to be for the \nKing, and glad to find there so many cavaliers. Win- \nthrop all this time was watching him with curious \neyes, and when the author of the Xew Canaan is \nnext heard of he is within his old persecutor's gi-asp. \nWhat brought him to Boston now — whether he ven- \ntured there of his own free will, or was caught passing \nthrough the jurisdiction — is not known ; but, under \ndate of September /2!^ 1644, five weeks after Cod- \ndington had spoken of him as being in Rhode Island, \nWinthrop wrote : — \n\n\" At the court of assistants, Thomas Morton was called \nforth presently after the lecture, that the country might \nbe satisfied of the justice of our proceeding against him. \nThere was laid to his charge his complaint against us at the \ncouncil board, which he denied. Then we produced the \ncopy of the bill exhibited by Sir Christopher Gardiner, \netc., wherein we were charged with treason, rebellion, etc., \nwherein he was named as a party or witness. He denied \nthat he had any liand in the information, only was called as \na witness. To convince him to be the principal party, it \nwas showed : 1. That Gardiner had no occasion to complain \nagainst us, for he was kindly used, and dismissed in peace, \nprofessing much engagement for the great courtesy he found \nhere. 2. Morton had set forth a book against us, and had \nthreatened us, and had prosecuted a quo warranto against \n\n\nleU. JOVE THCXLERS. 347 \n\n115. 3. His letter was produced, wriiten soon after to Mr. \nJeffery, his old acquaiotance and intimate friend/' \n\nThen followed Morton's jubilant letter of ten years \nbefore, in which he tells of his assured and immediate \ntriumph, and of how Ratcliff '• was comforted by their \nlordships with the cropping of Mr. \"Winth: \n\nSince that letter was written, many things „ :qy- \n\npeued. •• My Lord Canterbury.\" who then sat easily \nfirst among •• their lordships at the council board,\" \nhad been nearly four years in the Tower, and was \non trial for his life. Instead of subjecting Cradock \nand Hmnphreys to his brutalities, the Archbishop was \nnow in his turn subjected to the even greater brutali- \nties of Huo^h Peters.^ Gorsfes. then desigriated bv the \nKing as his governor-general in all America, was in \narms with Prince Rupert : and — exactly ** forty \ndays \" before — ** Jove \" had indeed '* Touchsafed. to \nthunder.\" for, at Marston Moor, King Charles had \nbeen overthrown by Cromwell. And here, in Boston, \nwas Morton. — not returning •* with the govemour, \nby whom all complainants [were to] hare relief.*' but \nalone and penniless, confronting as best he might \n\"King Winthrop,\" sitting at the ites' table, \n\nover which John Endicott — ** tutr ^-eat swelling \nfellow of Littleworth \" of the Xew Canaan — presided \nas goTemor. with the fatal letter to Jeffreys in his \nhand. A notable opportunity was thus offered for a \nhomily on the text, — ** Let him that thinketh he \nstandeth take heed lest he fall.\" \n\nThere is something singularly naif and characteris- \ntic in Winthrop' s record of what now took place, and \nit illustrates very clearly one respect in which the early \nMassachusetts magistrates enjoyed, a marked advan- \n\n- Hook. Archbishops, tL 363. \n\n\n348 SUBSEQUENT FORTUNES. 1644. \n\ntage over their successors. They carried the great \nbody of the law, especially of the criminal law, locked \nup in their own breasts.^ They were at once law-mak- \ners, law-expounders and the executors of the law. In \nthe same breath, as it were, they declared the crime, \ncondemned the criminal and inflicted the penalty. It \nwas small cause for wonder, therefore, that *' the peo- \nple . . . thought their condition very unsafe, while so \nmuch power rested in the discretion of the magis- \ntrates.\" ^ In the case now in hand the prisoner at- \ntheir bar had fourteen years before been arrested, im- \nprisoned and banished ; he had been set in the stocks, \nfined to the extent of everything he possessed, and seen \nhis house burned down before his eyes. He had been \nsent back to England, nominally to stand his trial for \ncrimes it was alleged he had committed ; and had \nthere been released from imprisonment, no accuser \nappearing. Having returned to New England he was \nnow again arrested, and publicly arraigned before the \nmagistrates, \" that the country might be satisfied of \nthe justice of our proceeding against him.\" As the \nresult of this \"proceeding\" he was imprisoned again \nindefinitely, heavily fined, and narrowly escaped a \nwhipping. And what was the charge against him ? — \nIt was that he had made \" a complaint against us at \nthe council board \" ! \n\n\" The council board,\" be it remembered, repre- \nsented in those days the King in council. The com- \nplaint, therefore, in this case charged to have been \nmade, was made directly to the power from whence \n\n^ \" In all eriminall offences, where the law hath prescribed no cer- \ntaine penaltie, the judges have power to inflict penalties, according to \nthe rule of Gods word.\" Fundamentals of Mass. 12 ; Hutchinson, \nState Papers, 205. \n\n^ Palfrey, L 442. \n\n\n1644. ''THE RULE OF GODS WORD:' 349 \n\nthe charter of the colony emanated. It seems as if it \nwould have puzzled Winthrop and his associates, mas- \nters of political casuistry as they were, to point out to \nthe prisoner, or to the country they proposed to sat- \nisfy, any prescriptive law, much less any penal statute, \nwhich made a criminal offence out of a representation \nconcerning them addressed to the acknowledged head \nof the state. The thing charged, be it remembered, \nwas not an appeal in a judicial proceeding. Such \nappeals the colonial magistrates always disallowed, and \nclaimed under their charter a right to disallow. The \nthing charged was simply a \" complaint \" addressed \nto the crown. \n\nThat any such view of the matter as the above ever \nsuggested itself to the mind of the court now sitting \nin judgment is highly improbable ; nor does any such \nview seem to have even been urged by the prisoner. \nIn point of fact, however it might be in reason or \nin law, any questioning of the colonial magistrates, \nwhether in the way of appeal or otherwise, before king \nor court or parliament, was then and long after looked \nupon and treated in Massachusetts as a crime, and as \nsuch was punished. Law or no law, the colonial ma- \ngistrates did not propose to recognize any jurisdiction \nsuperior to their own. To be fined, scourged, muti- \nlated, imprisoned and banished, on the mere dictum \nof a board of magistrates who pointed to no statute, \nmight be trying ; but such was the practice in early \nNew England, and as a matter of fact no one ever \nimproved matters for himself by carrying his com- \nplaints across the ocean. This Morton found out \nnow ; and Maverick and Childs found it out a little \nlater on. It certainly was not law ; perhaps it was \nnot justice. The stubborn spirit of independence be- \n\n\n850 SUBSEQUENT FORTUNES. 1644-6. \n\nhind it was none the less what made New England ; \nand, even in writing history, something must be par- \ndoned to the spirit of liberty. Yet would Verres \nhave dared to make a crime of the complaint a Ro- \nman citizen had proffered to the Senate and People \nof Rome ? \n\nThe rest of Morton's story can be briefly told. \nWinthrop is the principal authority, and what he says \nthrows a gleam of curious light on the thrift, as well \nas the charity, of those early times. To speak it \nplainly, Morton now was, in all human probability, a \nbroken-down, disreputable sot; — he could not \" i)ro- \ncure the least respect amongst our people,\" is what \nWinslow says of him. He was certainly old, destitute \nand friendless, and Winthrop records the little that is \nknown further of him in the following words : — \n\n\" Having been kept in prison about a year, in expectation \nof further evidence out of England, he was again called \nbefore the court, and after some debate what to do with \nhim, he was fined one hundred j^ounds, and set at liberty. \nHe was a charge to the country, for he had nothing, and we \nthought not fit to inflict corporal punishment upon him, be- \ning old and crazy, but thought better to fine him and give \nhim his liberty, as if it had been to procure his fine, but in- \ndeed to leave him opportunity to go out of the jurisdiction, \nas he did soon after, and he went to Acomenticus, and living \nthere poor and despised, he died within two years after.\" \n\nMorton himself asserted that the harsh treatment \nhe endured in prison, while waiting for that evidence \nfrom England which was to convict him of some crime, \nbroke down his health and hastened his end. This, \ntoo, may well have been the case if he was indeed, as \nwas subsequently charged, kept in jail and in fetters \nthrough a whole New England winter, without either \n\n\n1627-31. WALTER BAGNALL. 351 \n\nfire or bedding, even \" to the decaying of his limbs.\" ^ \nHow he survived such exposure would seem to be the \nonly cause for wonder. \n\nWhen describing in the New English Canaan the \nforest beasts of New England, Morton incidentally \nrefers to a servant of his, who was reputed to have \nmade a thousand pounds in five years in the fur trade. ^ \nHe had then died, and Morton intimates that his pos- \nsessions had mysteriously disappeared. This servant, \nthere is little room for doubt, was Walter Bagnall.^ In \n1627, and possibly a little earlier, Morton had visited \nthe coast of Maine, trading successfully for furs on \nthe Kennebec, and passing some time at Richmond \nIsland, near the entrance to Casco Bay. Indeed, it \nwould seem probable that he even then had a sort of \nbranch trading-station on this island, for he speaks \nwith much feelinfj of the rio:or of its winter climate. \nAt the time of the arrest of Morton by jNIiles Stan- \ndish, Bagnall was probably one of the four of the \nMerry-Mount company who were away from home; \n\n1 Writing fifteen years later, Samuel Maverick said, — \" Morton \n\"was banished, his house fired before his face, and he sent prisoner to \nEngland, but for what offence I know not ; who, some years after \n(nothing- being laid to his charge) returned for New England, where \nhe was soon after apprehended and kept in the common Goale a whole \nwinter, nothing laid to his Charge but the writing of a Booke entituled \nNew Canaan, which indeed was the truest discription of New England \nas then it was that ever I saw. The ofifence was he had touched them \ntoo neere. They not proveing the charge, he was sett loose, but soone \nafter dyed, haveing as he said, and most believed, received his bane \nby hard lodging and fare in prison. This was done by the Massachu- \nsetts Magistrats.\" Proc. Mass. Hist. Soc. Series II. i. 240. \n\n2 Prince Society edition of New English Canaan, 206, n., 218, n. \n\n2 In regard to Bagnall, in addition to the notes in the Prince Soci- \nety edition of the New -English Canaan, already refeired to, see also \nBaxter's George Cleeve of Casco Bay, in the publications of the Gorges \nSociety. \n\n\n352 SUBSEQUENT FORTUNES. 1631. \n\nand when he returned and found the place practically \nbroken up, he was among those described as \" the \nworst of the company,\" who dispersed, \" the more \nmodest \" only remaining to keep the house.^ Going \nback to Richmond Island, a dreary place some two \nhundred acres in extent, Bagnall there established \nhimself ; and there he remained until 1631, engaged \nin trade with the savages, and known along the coast \nas \" Great Watt.\" Winthrop describes him as \" a \nwicked fellow [who] had much wronged the Indians,\" \nand the probabilities would seem to be that he carried \nthe Merry-Mount methods with him to Maine, being \nwholly unscrupulous in his dealings. In any event, \nhe prospered greatly, for at the time of his death he \nhad amassed, according to Winthrop's estimate, — \nmore reasonablo than Morton's, though still large \nenough, — X400, mainly in goods. He was looking, \nalso, to a larger and more permanent trade, and shortly \nbefore had made application for a patent to the Coun- \ncil for New England. On the 2d of December, 1631, \njust two months after he was killed, his request was \ngranted, and Richmond Island, with fifteen hundred \nacres in addition thereto on the neighboring main- \nland, was allotted to him. Morton had then been nine \nmonths in England, and not improbably it was through \nhis agency that Bagnall pressed his claim on Gorges. \n\nOn the 3d of October, 1631, an Indian called \nSquidrayset, a sagamore of the Casco tribe, was at \nRichmond Island with a party of his people. Whether \nhe went there bent on violence, or to trade away his \nfurs, is not known ; but possibly he already had \nwrongs to avenge, and a sudden quarrel on some new \nprovocation may have arisen. Whatever the cause, \n1 Bradford, 243. \n\n\n1631-2. ''GREAT WATT.\" 353 \n\nthe result was that Bagnall, and the one other man \nwho lived on the island with him, the initial letter of \nwhose name alone is known, were set upon and mur- \ndered. The savages then burned the house and went \naway, carrying off their victims' arms and goods. \nWhen, a few days later, Captain Thomas Wiggin, \nthen at Piscataqua, received word of this outrage, he \nhurried off a messenger to the Massachusetts magis- \ntrates, asking them at once to send a force of men \nto avenge it; but they, excusing themselves on the \ngi'ound of the season and want of boats, showed small \ndisposition to follow the matter up. It was only a \nyear since they had finally suppressed the mother es- \ntablishment at Mt. Wollastou, and, scarce nine months \nbefore, Morton's house had by their orders been burned \nto the ground ; so now they evidently felt no great \ncall to disturb themselves if the savages had disposed \nof the branch establishment on the coast of Maine in \na way not much more summary. Upwards of a year \nafterwards, some pinnaces were sent out, carrying an \narmed force to capture a gang of pirates then infest- \ning the waters of the Kennebec. In January they \nreturned, the cold putting a stop to an unsuccessful \nsearch ; but, on their way back, they landed on Rich- \nmond Island, and finding there Black Will, a Lynn \nIndian, hanged him out of hand. So far as now ap- \npears, there would not seem to have been any reason \nto suppose that Black Will was concerned in the mur- \nders of fifteen months before, the real perpetrators of \nwhich are said to have been at Presumpscot Falls, not \nfive miles away, at the very time of his hanging ; but, \nin accordance with the frontier code, one outrage was \nthus offset against another. Bagnall's goods had dis- \nappeared among the Indians ; but, fSore than two cen- \n\n\n354 SUBSEQUENT FORTUNES. 1G28. \n\ntinies after his death, the ploughshare turned up, on \nRichmond Island, a stone pot of ancient form, in which \nwere found some forty pieces of money of Elizabethan \nand Stuart coinage. Those most competent to judge \nwere strong in the belief that this money was a por- \ntion of the murdered Englishman's hoard. \n\nEdward Gibbons was more fortunate than his com- \npanions, Morton and Bagnall. The career of this man \nwas, indeed, so varied and curious, — so strangely \nillustrative of early colonial life and manners, — that \nit is well worth while to recount it in the language, so \nfar as may be, of the time. It is merely necessary to \npremise that Gibbons was probably not one of those \nwho came in Captain Wollaston's company, or an ori- \nginal member of it. He may have been a relative of \nAmbrose Gibbons of Piscataqua, and would seem to \nhave lived there for a time. Bradford intimates that \nMorton's establishment became the resort of \" all the \nscume of the countrie,\" and Edward Gibbons was a \nyoung man of reckless, roving disposition ; so that, \na kindred spirit, he may have found his way to Merry- \nMount during the time of Morton's ascendency there. \n\nHowever this may be. Gibbons was, in all proba- \nbility, like BagnaU, absent from Mt. Wollaston at the \ntime of Morton's arrest in 1628 ; and after that he \nmay have been accounted one of \" the more modest \" \nof the crew, who remained about the place. If so, he \nmust have been a looker-on at the hewing down of the \nMay-pole, under Endicott's eye, in the ensuing Sep- \ntember, and hearkened also to the magistrate's stern \nadmonition that he and his companions should \" look \nthere should be better walkingf.\" But even before \nthat event. Gibbons would seem to have experienced \na change of heart. On this subject, Joshua Scottow, \n\n\n1629. ''MAJOR GENERAL GIBBINS.\" 355 \n\nwho wrote about forty years after Gibbons' death, and \nreferred to a manuscript he had left behind him, is the \nprincipal authority. He is as quaint as he is inco- \nherent, and, referring to the famous gathering of the \nSalem church on the i||J of August, 1629, he tells \nthe story thus : — \n\n\" At which Convention, the Testimony which the Lord of \nall the Earth bore unto it, is wonderfully memor- \nable, by a Saving Work upon a Gentleman of Qual- General \nity, who afterwards was the Chieftain and Flower \nof New EnglancVs Militia, and an Eminent Instrument \nboth in Church and Commonwealth ; he being the younger \nBrother of the House of an Honourable Extract, his Ambi- \ntion exceeding what he could expect at home. Rambled \nhither : Before one Stone was laid in this Structure, or our \nVan Currier's Arrival, he was no Debauchee, but of a Jo- \ncund Temper, and one of the Merry Mount Society, who \nchose rather to Dance about a May pole, first Erected to \nthe Honour of Stvumpet Flora, than to hear a good Ser- \nmon ; who hearing of this Meeting, though above Twenty \nMiles distant from it, and desirous to see the Mode and \nNovel of a Churches Gathering ; with great studiousness, he \napplyed himself to be at it ; where beholding their orderly \nprocedure, and their method of standing forth, to declare \nthe Work of God upon their Souls, being pricked at the \nHeart, he sprung forth among them, desirous to be one of \nthe Society, who though otherwise well accomplished, yet \ndivinely illiterate, was then convinc'd and judged before all ; \nthe secrets of his heart being made manifest, fell down and \nWorshipped God, to their astonishment, saying. That God \nwas in them of a truth.\" \n\nSubsequent and more reliable authorities add that, \nthough the Salem preachers encouraged their pros- \nelyte in his good intentions, they very prudently \n\" chose to have some evidence of his sincerity ; \" ^ and \n1 Eliot, Biog. Diet. 216. \n\n\n356 SUBSEQUENT FORTUNES. 1631^. \n\nthe next record concerniDg the convert is indicative of \nbacksliding, and seems quite to justify this hesitation \non the preachers' part, savoring far more of Merry- \nMount than of the Salem church. At the Court of \nAssistants held at Boston on the 16th of August, \n1631, \n\n\" It is ordered, that Mr Shepheerd and Robte Coles \nshalbe ffyned 5 marks a peece, and Edward Gibbons XX°, \nfor abuseing themselves disorderly with drinkeing to much \nstronge drinke aboard the Frendshipp, and att Mr. Maver- \nicke his howse at Winettsemet.\" \n\nIn connection with this most unmistakable debauch, \nit is interesting to know, on the authority of Gov- \nernor Bradford, that the \" stronge drinke \" in ques- \ntion was \" meatheglin,\" — a liquor made of honey and \nwater, boiled and fermented, — of which there were \ntwo hogsheads in the cargo of the Friendship. This \nliquor belonged to Plymouth parties, but, the Friend- \nship going to Boston, the contents of the hogsheads \nwere there transferred into wooden \" fiackets.\" '' But \nwhen these fiackets came to be received [at Plymouth] \nther was left but six gallons of the two hogsheads, it \nbeing drunke up under the name leackage, and so \nlost.\" ^ How large a portion of this \" leackage \" Gib- \nbons and his friends were responsible for, does not \nappear; but it would seem to have been enough to \nlead to their \" abuseing themselves disorderly.\" \n\nAfterwards Gibbons married, became a selectman \nand commissioner, and was frequently a delegate to \nthe General Court, besides being one of the most ac- \ntive merchants in Boston. His military turn began \nto show itself as early as 1634, and in 1645 he was \n\n1 Bradford, 269. \n\n\n1637. A BOSTON BUCCANEER. 357 \n\ncaptain of the Boston train-band. Meanwhile, it is \nvery much to be feared that he for a time tried his \nhand at buccaneering. Certainly, in 1636-7, he \npassed a number of months in the West Indies, in a \nsmall pinnace of thirty tons, those aboard of which, \nfor some unexplained reason, did not dare to touch at \nany inhabited place ; preferring to land in unfre- \nquented harbors, and subsist on turtles and hogs. \nGibbons had been given up for lost in Boston, when \nsuddenly he reappeared there, in June, 1637, bring- \ning with bim a vessel, his possession of which he ac- \ncounted for in a most singular way, for he asserted \nthat, being forced into some harbor of the West Indies, \nhe would infallibly have been captured by a French \nman-of-war lying there, had not the captain of the \nman-of-war, \" one Petfree,\" who had formerly lived at \nPiscataqua, been acquainted with him.^ Accordingly^ \ninstead of being captured, Gibbons found himself \n\"used curteously,\" his commodities exchanged for a \nhome freight, and his vessel finally sent back to Bos- \nton, taking with her a prize belonging to the French \ncaptain, which Gibbons was authorized by its captor \nto sell \" for a smaU price to be paid in New England.\" \nWinthrop adds that Gibbons on this occasion brought \nhome an \"aligarto, which he gave the governour.\" \nThough the explanation thus given must naturally have \nsuggested further inquiry, not only does it seem to have \npassed unchallenged in Boston, but time subsequently \ngave to it a sort of religious coloring, — what might, \nperhaps, be termed a New England theological glow ; \nand it was recorded by Cotton Mather in his Mag- \nnalia among remarkable sea-deliverances, as \" the tcon- \nderful story of Major Gibbons.\" ^ According to this \n1 Palfrey, iL 226, n. j Winthrop, i. 270. 2 b. I. ch. i. § 3. \n\n\n358 SUBSEQUENT FORTUNES. 1637-46. \n\nversion, Gibbons' vessel, owing to the continuance of \ncontrary winds, got out of provisions, and those on \nboard would have been reduced to the necessity of \neating each other, had not God, in answer to \" their \nimportunate prayers,\" caused first \" a mighty fish \" \nto leap into their boat, and then \" a great bird \" to \nlight upon its mast. Both of these were captured, \nand then, as the still famishing company was about to \nhave recourse \" to the heart-breaking task of slaying \nthe person under designation,\" a third miracle occurs, \nand they fall in with the courteous \" French pirate,\" \nand so made \" a comfortable end of their voyage.\" \nSatisfied with the results of this singular experience. \nGibbons does not appear to have had anything further \nto do with either pirates or piracy ; but, settling down \nas a merchant in Boston, he had a house on what is \nnow Washington Street, opposite the foot of Cornhill, \nand a farm in the country at Pullen Point, as Point \nShirley was then called.^ At a later day he was \nconcerned in the LaTour d'Aulnay complications in \nAcadia ; and when, in 1645, d'Aulnay captured La \nTour's fort at St. John \"by assault and scalado,\" \nMajor Gibbons, who had involved himself in La Tour's \nschemes to the extent of more than £2,000, \" by this \nlast was now quite undone.\" He still seems, none \nthe less, to have been a man of substance, for, in a \nvery life-like description of a visit of d'Aulnay to \nBoston in August, 1646, Winthrop says the French \nguests lodged at \" the house of Major Gibbons, where \nthey were entertained that night.\" \n\nD'Aulnay's visit to Boston took place in October, \n1646, at which time Gibbons had risen to be command- \ning officer of the Suffolk Regiment, with the title of \n1 Mem. Hist, of Boston, i. 578, n. \n\n\n1644-52. \"OF A RESOLUTE SPIRIT.\" 359 \n\nsergeant-major. He had then held the position for \ntwo years, having been chosen to it in 1644, when the \nmilitia was first organized and the office created ; for \nthere were now four regiments altogether in the col- \nony, each commanded by a sergeant-major, and the \nwhole by a major-general. Thomas Dudley was the \nfirst to hold the latter position, \" whose faithfulness \nand great zeal and love to the truths of Christ, caused \nthe people to choose him to this office, although he \nwere far stricken in years.\" Dudley the next year \n(1645) was chosen governor, and John Endicott was \nappointed major-general in his place. He, also, was \nchosen governor, in 1649, and then Sergeant-major \nGibbons succeeded to the major-generalcy, and held \nthe office until his death, on the 9th of December, \n1652. \n\nHis only approach to active service seems to have \nbeen in 1645, when \" it clearly appeared that God \ncalled the Colonies to a war \" with the Narragan setts. \nA force of three hundred men, whereof Massachusetts \nfurnished one hundred and ninety, was then put into \nthe field, with Major, Gibbons in supreme command. \nAmong his lieutenants were the redoubtable Captain \nMiles Standish, of Plymouth, and the no less redoubt- \nable Captain John Mason, of Connecticut, each in \ncommand of a contingent of forty men ; but the mere \nspectacle of so formidable an array proved too much \nfor the savages, and the frightened sons of Canonicus \nmade haste to send in their submission. Thousfh he \nsaw no active fighting, Major-General Gibbons, none \nthe less, impressed his contemporaries as a soldier of \nprowess ; and Captain Edward Johnson, of Woburn, \nhas handed him down to posterity, through the Won- \nder-Working Providence, as \n\n\n360 SUBSEQUENT FORTUNES. 1644-52. \n\n\" A man of a resolute spirit, bold as a Lion, being wholly \ntutor'd up in New-England Discipline, very generous, and \nforward to promote all military matters ; his forts are well \ncontrived, and batteries strong, and in good repair, his great \nArtillery well mounted, and cleanly kept, half Canon, Cul- \nverins and Sakers, as also field-pieces of brass very ready \nfor service.\" \n\n\nII. \n\nTHE ANTINOMIAN CONTROVERSY, \n\n\nTHE ANTINOMIAN CONTROVERSY. \n\n\nCHAPTER I. \n\nTHE REV. JOHN WHEELWRIGHT OF \" THE MOUNT.\" \n\nThomas Morton's bouse at Merry-Mount was \nburned to the ground in December, 1630, and its oc- \ncupants were driven away. For several years there- \nafter the region between the Neponset and the Mona- \ntoquit — the seaward slope of the Blue Hill range — \nwas without other inhabitants than the few Indians of \nChickatabot's following, who, the sole representatives \nin those parts of the Massachusetts tribe, flit to and \nfro across the pages of the record, and haunt \" the \nMassachusetts Fields,\" the mere ghosts of their race. \nIndeed, for a short space of time, and yet one meas- \nured by years, the Neponset seems to have been looked \nupon as practically the southern boundary of Massa- \nchusetts. Starting from Salem, and making their \nfirst lodgment on the shores of Boston Bay at Charles- \ntown, the outposts of what is known in New England \nhistory as the Great Migration had pushed their way \nup the valleys of the Charles and the Mystic, and \nsouth as far as the Neponset ; but at the Neponset the \nsoutherly movement paused. It was a barrier in the \nway, — the first and the smallest of many barriers of \nthe same kind which New England civilization was \ndestined to surmount. \n\n\n364 REV. JOHN WHEELWRIGHT. 1634. \n\nIt was in this unoccupied region — a region some \nfive miles or so across, between Dorchester on the \nnorth and Wessagusset on the south — that in 1634 \nAlderman of Bear Cove, as Hingham was then called, \nlosing his way, wandered through woods and swamps \nfor three days and two nights without encountering \na human being ; ^ for, though it was known to have a \nfertile soil, clear of trees, and to be well adapted to \nfarming purposes, the border land, as it then was, \nseems to have been under a sort of ban. Morton's \ndoings had given it an evil name. It was no fit home \nfor godly families. \n\nThis state of affairs was not likely to continue long. \nThe early settlers of Massachusetts Bay, unlike those \nof Plymouth, were many of them men of substance. \nAt home the associates of Carver and Bradford had \nbeen plain people, while, of those who came with \nWinthrop and Saltonstall, many had belonged to the \ngentry ; and these last brought with them to the New \nWorld the English passion for landed possessions, — \nthat land-hunger which they inherited direct from \nGermanic and Norman ancestors, and which they \nleft unimpaired and unsatisfied to their descendants. \nEvery man of mark among them was eager, as soon \nas he set foot in New England, to secure a domain for \nhimself and his descendants. The peninsula of Bos- \nton was smaU, — \" too small to contain many,\" as \nWood described it only three years after the settle- \nment ; so that those living there were \" constrained to \ntake farms in the country.\" Accordingly, Governor \nWinthrop had the Ten-Hill farm of 600 acres in \nMedford, besides some 1,200 acres more \" about six \nmiles from Concord northwards.\" Governor Dudley \n\n1 Supra, 337. \n\n\n1634. ''CONVENIENT ENLARGEMENT:' 365 \n\nhad 1,700 acres, — 200 on the west side of the Charles \nover against Cambridge, 500 on the easterly side of \nthe river, above the falls, and 1,000 from Concord \nnorthwards. Sir Richard Saltonstall had 1,600 acres, \npart in Watertowu, part in Natick, and, later, part in \nSpringfield. So it went on ; and it naturally resulted \nthat, as immigration increased, the land-hunger, which \nwas quite as well developed in the new as in the old \ncomers, could find in more remote parts only that on \nwhich to feed. \n\nThen it was that people began to look across the \nNeponset ; and accordingly, at the session of the Gen- \neral Court, held in May, 1634, it was ordered \" that \nBoston shall have convenient enlargement at Mt. \nWollaston.\" Six months later that territory was \nformally annexed to Boston as a sort of outlying de- \npendency, Dorchester intervening between the two, \nand the process of dividing it up among private own- \ners, in estates of from 200 to 700 acres, was begun. \nOn the 14th of December a committee of five was \nappointed to go out and assign \" what may be suffi- \ncient for William Coddington and Edmund Quincy \nto have for their particular farms there.\" Quincy \nwas the progenitor of the family after a member of \nwhich the town in which the Mount lay received its \nname a century and a half later ; Coddington after- \nwards became the father of Ehode Island. The Mt. \nWollaston bay-front was now assigned to the two, — \nthe place where Morton's house had stood subsequently \nfalling to Coddington, though it finally passed by pur- \nchase and descent into the hands of a Quincy. \n\nAllotments to others were at* the same time made, \nbut they are not to the present purpose. It is neces- \nsary to pass over a couple of years before coming to \n\n\n366 REV. JOHN WHEELWRIGHT. 1636. \n\ntwo names — AVilliain Hutchinson and John Wheel- \nwright ^ — which are associated not only with holdings \nat the Mount, but with controversies that for a time \nseemed to threaten the very existence of the colony. \nIts life was spared ; but through more than a century \nand a half its history bears the deep pit-marks of \nthose controversies, much as men of those early days \nbore from childhood scars of the smallpox. \n\nTheological controversies are as a rule among the \nmost barren of the many barren fields of historical \nresearch; and the literature of which they were so \nfruitful may, so far as the reader of to-day is con- \ncerned, best be described by the single word impos- \nsible. Among modern writers Hallam had to acquaint \nhimseK with it in at least a general way ; and even \nHallam, who was not wont to flinch at an array of \nbooks and authors, was appalled, not more by the \nmass than by the aridity of those devoted to this \nparticular branch of learning. More than once he \nrefers to the subject, with a touch of sadness as well \nas a warmth of imagery not usual with him. '\" Our \npublic libraries,\" he in one place remarks, \" are cem- \neteries of departed reputation ; and the dust accu- \nmulating upon their untouched volumes speaks as \n\n1 The allotment to William Hutchinson was made by votes of Jan- \nuary /j, 1636 and January -9^, 1637, and included 600 acres of land, \nlying in what is now North Quincy, \" betwixt Dorchester bounds and \nMount Woollistone ryver.\" {Second Report of Boston Record Corn's, \n(1877), 7, 14.) The Wheelwrig-ht allotment was made by vote of \n?^^;^^, and April -^5, 1637. It included 250 acres lying south of Mt. \nWollaston, and \"extended into the countrye.\" (lb. 15, 17, 45,46.) \nThe Rev. John Wilson's and the Rev. John Wheelwright's holdings \nat \" the Mount \" seem to have been contiguous, and what Lech- \nford remarked of Blackstone and Williams might have been re- \nmarked of \"Wheelwright : — \"He lives neere master Wilson, but is far \nfrom his opinions.\" (Supra, 325.) \n\n\n1637. THE ANTINOMIAN CONTROVERSY. 367 \n\nforcibly as the grass that waves over the ruins of \nBabylon ; \" and again, speaking of the wordy \" cham- \npions of a long war,\" he declares of their writings that \n'' they belong no more to man, but to the worm, the \nmoth, and the spider. Their dark and ribbed backs, \ntheir yellow leaves, their thousand folio pages, do not \nmore repel us than the unprofitableness of their sub- \nstance.\" \n\nSo far as its substance was concerned, the great \nNew England religious controversy of 1637 forms no \nexception to the general truth of Hallam's criticism. \nNot only were the points in dispute obscure, but the \ndiscussion was carried on in a jargon which has be- \ncome unintelligible ; and, from a theological point of \nview, it is now devoid of interest. At most, it can \nexcite only a faint curiosity as one more example of \nthat childish excitement over trifles by which com- \nmunities everywhere and at all times are liable to be \nswept away from the moorings of common sense. But \nthe, so-called, Antinomian controversy was in reality \nnot a religious dispute, which was but the form it \ntook. In its essence that controversy was a great deal \nmore than a religious dispute ; it was the first of the \nmany New England quickenings in the direction of \nsocial, intellectual and political development, — New \nEngland's earliest protest against formulas. The \nmovement of sap in a young tree was not more natural, \nand the form the quickening took, and the individuals \nwho participated in it were the only matters of chance. \nIt was designed by no one. No one at the time real- \nized its significance. It was to that community just \nwhat the first questioning of an active mind is to a \nchild brought up in the strictest observance of purely \nconventional forms. So viewed, the mis-called Anti- \n\n\n368 REV. JOHN WHEELWRIGHT. 1637. \n\nnomian controversy becomes, in the light of subsequent \nhistory, full of interest. As an illustration of the \nmen and manners and modes of thought of a civiliza^ \ntion wholly unlike any which now exists, it is replete \nwith life and incident. \n\nJohn Wheelwright was the third minister of the \ngospel who regularly preached within the limits fixed \nin the Massachusetts patent south of the Neponset. \nWilliam Monell and Joseph Hull of Weymouth alone \npreceded him; and when Wheelwright's voice was \nfirst heard in that wilderness, the voice of Monell had \nbeen silent for more than twelve years, while Hull had \ntaken up his work only a twelvemonth before. Wheel- \nwright was in his day esteemed a learned and eloquent \ndivine, and he was also a very famous one ; for it was \nhis fortune, by a discourse delivered on a day of pub- \nlic fasting and prayer in January, 1637, to throw the \nMassachusetts community into a state of commotion \nwithout a parallel in its history. It was, perhaps, the \nmost momentous single sermon ever preached from the \nAmerican pulpit; and, indeed, in this respect to be \ncompared only with the yet more famous Sacheverell \nsermons, preached seventy years later in London. \n\nThe author of this memorable fast-day deliverance \nwas born in 1592 at Saleby, a little hamlet of the \nmarket-town of Alford, some twenty-four miles from \nthe English Boston, in the region known as the fens \nof Lincolnshire. This region has the reputation of \nbeing one of the least interesting in England. Satu- \nrated with water through one half of the year, through \nthe other half it is a dreary flat ; and yet, towards the \nclose of the sixteenth century, the fens of Lincolnshire \nseem to have been somewhat prolific of men destined \nto play prominent parts in the settlement of America. \n\n\n1592-1623. A BORN CONTROVERSIALIST. 369 \n\nThe names of all the fen hamlets terminate with by, \nindicative of their Danish origin ; and at Willoughby, \nonly a few miles from Saleby, and a little over thirty \nfrom the yet more famous Scrooby, in the next county \nof Notts, John Smith was born thirteen years before \nWheelwright. Of the latter's youthful days not much \nis known. His father, a landholder of the middle class, \ngave the son a good education, and in due course of \ntime he became a student at Cambridge. There is a \ntradition that he and Oliver Cromwell knew each other \nwell in their college days. The story is to the effect \nthat in later years the Protector once said : — \"I re- \nmember the time when I was more afraid of meeting \nWheelwright at football than I have been since of \nmeeting an army in the field, for I was infallibly sure \nof being tripped up by him.\" This, like most utter- \nances resting on tradition, has an apocryphal ring; \nbut it is an established fact that Cromwell esteemed \nWheelwright highly, and showed him marked favor \nat a subsequent time.^ Taking his degree at Cam- \nbridge in 1618, Wheelwright five years later, in 1623, \nhaving married in the meanwhile, succeeded his wife's \nfather in the vicarage of Bilsby, one of a cluster of \nhamlets close to the spot of his birth. The great re- \nligious movement against dogmas and ritualism was \nthen fast developing in England, and assuming more \nand more strongly the Puritan phase. Wheelwright \nwas married, possessed of some property, and secure \nin a comfortable living ; but he was a born controver- \nsialist, and seems to have entered into the spirit of \nthe rising protest with all the superfluous energy of \n\n^ Bell, John Wheelwright, Prince Society Publications. Where \nother authorities are not specified, reference for statements relating to \nWheelwright should be made to Bell's work. \n\n\n370 REV. JOHN WHEELWRIGHT. 1636. \n\nyouth. Before 1633 the crisis with him had come ; he \nwas already silenced for non-conformity, and, though \nhe had neither resigned nor been removed, his vicar- \nage had been treated as vacant, and into it a successor \ninducted. During the next three years he ministered \nprivately, but with an ever-increasing reputation, and \nin April, 1636, embarked for New England. \n\nBefore this Wheelwright's first wife had died, and \nhe had married Mary, a daughter of Edward Hutch- \ninson of Alford, and sister of one William Hutchin- \nson. This William Hutchinson had, with his wife \nAnne, gone to America in 1634, and landed in Boston \nin September, thus preceding Wheelwright by about \ntwo years. Arriving on the ^oi '^, 1636, on the IJ \nof the next month Wheelwright was admitted to the \nchurch, being then in his forty-fifth year. In 1636, \nand, indeed, for years after that, there was but one \nmeeting-house in Boston, — the rude, one-story bar- \nrack already described. In this edifice were gathered \ntogether each Sabbath and lecture-day all the inhab- \nitants of Boston w^ho were neither too young profitably \nto attend divine worship, nor incapacitated for some \ngood and sufficient reason. The Eev. John Wilson, \nfirst pastor of the church, ministered to the flock, \nthough somewhat overshadowed by the greater emi- \nnence in public estimation of his colleague, — or teach- \ner, as he was called, — the Rev. John Cotton. \n\nWheelwright had not been many weeks a member \nof the church before some of its more active members \nbegan to agitate the question of installing him by \nCotton's side as an additional teacher. The sugges- \ntion was first publicly made on Sunday, November yf , \n1636, at the church-meeting which regularly followed \nthe services ; and a week later it assumed formal shape. \n\n\n1634-6. \"YOUNG SIR HARRY VANE.\" 371 \n\nA decided opposition was at once developed, at the \nhead of which were Wilson, the pastor, and Winthrop, \nthe ex-governor, while the whole movement, as was \nnatural enough in so small a community, soon con- \nnected itself with the political situation. To under- \nstand how this came about, and the close bearing it \nhad on all that followed, a retrospect is necessary. \n\nThe popularity of Winthrop, not only in the colony \nat large but in his own town and church of Boston, \nhad for some time been on the decline. This was due \nto no fault of his; but would rather seem to have \nbeen one of those inexplicable, temporary eclipses \nwhich nearly every prominent public man is at some \ntime in the course of his career fated to pass through. \nWith or without cause the community wearies of him, \nand then, perhaps, presently returns to him; nor in \neither case can any one say why. The smaller the \ncommunity, also, the more liable it is to this ebb and \nflow of popular favor. Accordingly, at the election of \n1634, the freemen, without ostensible reason, but in \nsupposed reply to a famous discourse of John Cotton's \non the tenure of office by magistrates, had quietly rel- \negated Winthrop to private life, and chosen Dudley \ngovernor in his stead. A year later again they chose \nHaynes, who had then only recently come over, to \nsucceed Dudley. \n\nAmong the many newcomers during the terms of \nthese two governors were three persons destined to play \nparts of especial prominence in the early history of \nthe colony ; these three were Anne Hutchinson, Henry \nVane and Hugh Peters. It will be necessary to speak \nin some detail of Mrs. Hutchinson at a later point in \nthe narrative, and her presence in Boston was not at \nonce felt. With the other two it was different. From \n\n\n372 REV. JOHN WHEELWRIGHT. 1635-7. \n\nthe moment tliey set foot on Massachusetts soil, both \nVane and Peters became leading factors in the devel- \nopment of the colony. \n\nNaturally enough both the people of Massachusetts \nand Massachusetts writers have always taken a pe- \nculiar interest in the younger Vane. He figiires in the \nlist of those who were governors of the Colony and \nthe State, and not only was he subsequently promi- \nnent among the statesmen of the English Common- \nwealth, but the romance which hangs about his death \non the scaffold casts a strong gleam of light as well \nas a tragic shadow upon what is otherwise rather a \nmatter of fact and commonplace record of names, \nfew indeed of which are more than locally remem- \nbered. The hand of either the assassin or the heads- \nman is apt, also, to exercise a perturbing and, at \ntimes, even a transmuting influence on the judgments \nof history ; and this has been especially so in the case \nof Vane. At best, his personality is far from being of \nthe distinct kind ; if, indeed, so far as Massachusetts \nis concerned, he has not so long been held up as the \nideal of an etherealized Puritan, youthful and poetic, \ngracefully wearing his halo of martyrdom, that at last \neffusiveness of sentiment has had more to do with \nthe popular estimate in which he is held, than calm \njudgment backed by adequate knowledge. Judged, on \nthe other hand, in the ordinary way and by what he did \nand what he left behind him, \" young Sir Harry Vane \" \nwas a born parliamentary leader, and an administrator \nwho on occasion did not fear to combine with his en- \nergy a sufficiency of guile ; while, as a thinker and \nwriter, he was undoubtedly a man of large and aspiring \nmind, nourishing lofty ideas far in advance of his time, \nbut with a faculty of expression by no means equal- \n\n\n1635. A YOUNG PATRICIAN. 373 \n\nling the fineness of his thought. Consequently his \nwritings are not only mystical, but they are so in- \nvolved and dull that Hume was fully justified in pro- \nnouncino^ them unintellioible and devoid of common \nsense ; and now they are read only by the closest stu- \ndents of political history, nor always clearly under- \nstood even by them. In the minds and memories of \nthe great majority of well-informed persons of his own \ncountry. Vane is associated chiefly with the sonnet ad- \ndressed to him by Milton, and with Cromwell's ejacu- \nlation, as characteristic as it was contemptuous, when \nhe turned the Long Parliament out of doors. It is \nalso remembered that he met with calm courage a \ndeath no less cruel than early and undeserved. \n\nWhen he landed in Boston, in October, 1635, young \nVane was scarcely more than a boy. He would seem \nto have been what in ordinary life is known as an \ningenuous youth, in eager sympathy with the most \nadvanced thought of his day. As such he was full of \nhigh purpose ; but his judgment was by no means \nmature, and accordingly he was petulant and indis- \ncreet,— at times overbearing. From the outset he \nimpressed himself deeply on the colonists. There \nwas a glamour about him. A solemn sedateness of \nmanner was then in vogue ; but the winning faculty \nnone the less made itself felt, and Vane was in person \na handsome young patrician, — a man of unusual as- \npect, as Clarendon phrases it. His zeal and youthful \npiety, his manifest simplicity and directness of pur- \npose, won aU hearts. Furthermore, at this time Mas- \nsachusetts was sorely pressed by the machinations of \nGorges and Laud, and stood in utmost need of friends \nat court ; Vane was the son of a privy-councillor, one \nof the King's most influential advisers, and, naturally \n\n\n374 REV. JOHN WHEELWRIGHT. 1635. \n\nenough, the colonists, overwhelmed by a sense of their \nown littleness, were inclined to magnify out of all \ndue proportion any possible influence at Whitehall. \nEverything therefore contributed and combined to \nlend importance to young Vane. His father's son, he \nrepresented also Lords Brooke and Say, the Puritan \npatentees of Connecticut ; and he had come to New \nEngland upon the express license and command of \nKing Charles. The result was, that before this \" no- \nble young gentleman of excellent parts,\" as Winthrop \ndescribes him, had been two months in America, the \ninhabitants of Boston, at a general meeting upon \npublic notice, agreed that none of them should sue one \nanother at law \" before that Mr. Henry Vane and the \ntwo elders have had the hearing and deciding of the \ncause, if they can.\" It is no matter for wonder if \nsuch adulation turned the head of the recipient, espe- \ncially when that recipient was a youth yet in his \ntwenty-fourth year. \n\nHugh Peters, the companion of Vane in his out- \nward voyage, was a man of wholly different stamp. \nWhile \" young Sir Harry \" was innately a patrician, \nPeters, though he had been educated at Cambridge, \nwas of the people. There was more than an absence \nof natural fineness in his composition ; he was coarse- \ngrained. Over ten years Vane's senior, tall and thin, \nnervous and active both in mind and in body, Peters \nwas voluble in speech and afraid of nothing. With \nhis strong voice and fiery zeal, he was looked upon in \nhis day as the typical Puritan fanatic and preacher ; \nand already, before coming to New England, he was \nfamous for the success with which he swayed great \naudiences. He had himself experienced persecution ; \nyet it was not in his nature to brook opposition from \n\n\n1599-1660. HUGH PETERS. 375 \n\nothers. Not long after his arrival at Boston, the ban- \nishment of Roger Williams made vacant the Salem \npulpit, and Peters was called to fill it. This he did \nmost acceptably through five years, making himself \nconspicuous not only for the strict church discipline \nhe enforced upon his people, but for the bustling out- \ndoor energy with which he devised new business out- \nlets for them. Subsequently, in 1641, he was sent back \nto England as a sort of agent of the colony, and dur- \ning the Civil War he became a fighting chaplain in the \narmy of the Parliament. Eliot says that he then \" beat \nthe pulpit drum \" for Cromwell ; and Burnet describes \nhim as \" a sort of an enthusiastical buffoon preacher.\" \nHe certainly fought, preached and carried despatches \nby turns; now stimulating the soldiery by his wald \neloquence, and now rushing in with them to the sack \nof Winchester and Basing House. When Laud, a \nbroken, weak old man, was leaving the peers' cham- \nber after his arraignment, Peters overwhelmed him \nwith abuse, and, had he not been restrained, would \nhave struck him. He preached by special appoint- \nment before Cromwell and the Commons at the Solemn \nFast during the sittings of the High Court of Justice, \nand during the trial he was conspicuous for his exer- \ntions among the soldiery to incite them to clamor for \nthe execution of the King. Whatever it may have been \nat Salem, his oratory at this time was famous for its \nextravagance of language, and for the coarse, familiar \ninterpretations of Scripture by means of which he \nwas wont to stir his audience and raise a solemn \nlaugh. At the funeral of the Protector, he walked by \nMilton's side. Thus, when the Restoration took place, \nhe had won for himself a dangerous prominence, and \nwas even looked upon as \" the most notorious incen- \n\n\n376 REV. JOHN WHEELWRIGHT. 1635. \n\ndiary of all the rebels.\" As such he was marked for \ndestruction. His trial may be read among those of \nthe Regicides, and he was butchered at Charing Cross \non the 16th of October, 1660.1 \n\nLanding in Boston in October, Vane was admitted \nto membership of the Boston Church on the ^ of \nNovember, and during the same month Peters was \npreaching a sort of commercial crusade in Boston and \nat Salem, moving the country to organize a fishing \ncompany. In January the two, acting apparently in \n\n1 The word \" butchered \" is here used advisedly, for the details \nof the execution are incredible in their brutality. John Cook and \nHugh Peters were tried and executed together. Tliey were dragged \nfrom the gaol to the scaffold on hurdles, the head of Harrison, who \nhad been executed before, being fastened on Cook's hurdle, looking \ntowards him. Peters' courage, alone of those that suffered, did not \nrise to the occasion. ' ' He was in great amazement and confusion, \nsitting upon the hurdle like a sot all the way he went, and either \nplucking the straws or gnawing the fingers of his gloves; \" and \" he \nwas observed all the while to be drinking some cordial liquors to keep \nhim from fainting.\" Cook suffered first, bearing himself exultingly, \nbut expressing the wish that Peters * ' might have been reprieved for \nsome time, as not being prepared or fit to die.\" When Cook was \n\" cut do\\wi and brought to be quartered, one they called Colonel Tur- \nner called to the .sheriff's men to bring Mr. Peters near, that he might \nsee it, and by and by the hangman came to him, all besmeared in \nblood, and rubbing his bloody hands together, he (tauntingly) asked, \n' Come, how dto you like this, Mr. Peters ? How do you like this \nwork ? ' To whom he replied, ' I am not (I thank God) terrified at \nit, you may do your worst.' \" Presently he ascended the ladder, and, \n\" after he had stood stupidly for a while, he put his hand before his \neyes and prayed for a short space ; and the hangman often remem- \nbering him to make haste by checking him with the rope, at last, rery \nim willingly he was turned off the ladder.\" \n\nAnother account says that '' he smiled when he went away,\" but \nwhat he said ' ' either in speech or prayer, it could not be taken, in \nregard his voice was low at that time, and the people uncivil.\" \n\nSuch was a public political execution at Charing Cross, in the most \ncrowded streets of London, in the year of grace, 1660. See, also, on \nthis subject note (5) in Baxter's Memoir of Sir Ferdinando Gorges, 6. \n\n\n1633-6. « THEY FELL INTO BITTERNESS.\" 377 \n\nconcert, went still further in their efforts for the well- \nbeing of the colony. \" Finding some distraction in \nthe Commonwealth, arising from some difference in \njudgment, and withal some alienation of affection \namong the magistrates and some other persons of \nquality, they procured a meeting at Boston of the \ngovernor [Haynes], the deputy [Bellingham] , Mr. \nCotton, Mr. Hooker, Mr. Wilson, and there was pres- \nent Mr. Winthrop, Mr. Dudley and themselves.\" The \nreal cause of the trouble thus mysteriously referred \nto, though well understood by all, could not readily be \nset forth in an open, public way, for it was nothing \nmore nor less than Dudley's jealousy of Winthrop. \nThis had broken out as early as 1633, and had then \nculminated in the famous interview at Charlestown, at \nwhich the former charged the latter with exceeding \nhis authority as governor. Winthrop, in reply, chal- \nlenged his critic to show wherein he had so exceeded, \n\" and speaking this somewhat apprehensively, the dep- \nuty began to be in a passion, and told the governor \nthat, if he were so round, he woulcj be round too. The \ngovernor bad him be round, if he would. So the \ndeputy rose up in great fury and passion, and the \ngovernor grew very hot also, so as they both fell into \nbitterness.\" A half reconciliation was then effected \nthrough the mediation of the clergy, but the two men \nwere of different disposition, and Dudley could not \nwell help criticising Winthrop ; for while Winthrop, \nof a calm temper and naturally tolerant, inclined to \nthe ways of mercy and forbearance, Dudley, a man of \nthoroughly intolerant nature, was ever harsh and severe. \nNarrow in mind and rough of speech, with all a \nnarrow-minded man's contempt for opinions different \nfrom his own, \" the deputy \" was as outspoken as he \n\n\nS78 REV. JOHN WHEELWRIGHT. 1633-6. \n\nwas courageous. Accordingly in the Charlestown in- \nterview of 1633 he had not hesitated to attack Win- \nthrop for the too great leniency of his administration. \nHeavier fines, severer whippings, more frequent ban- \nishments, were called for ; and as this view strongly \ncommended itself to the average Puritan, and espe- \ncially to the average Puritan divine, it had contrib- \nuted in no small degree to the decline of Winthrop's \npopularity, and Dudley's final substitution for him in \nthe position of governor.^ And so, as Winthrop put \nit, \" factions began to grow among the people, some \nadhering more to the old governor, and others to the \nlate governor, Mr. Dudley, — the former carrying \nmatters with more lenity, and the latter with more \nseverity.\" \n\nThe meeting now arranged by Vane and Peters \n\n^ Winthrop has been regarded by most of the native New England \nhistorians, and notably by Palfrey, with a veneration which has im- \npaired respect for their judgment whenever the authority of the first \ngovernor is invoked. They see things only through his eyes, and the \nordinary scrutiny of modem historical criticism is laid aside where he \nis involved. Repeated instances of this indiscriminate adulation wUl \nbe referred to in the course of this narrative. Nevertheless the diffi- \nculty of Winthrop's position, and the skill and high-minded rectitude \nwith which he ou the whole demeaned himself, should always be borne \nin mind. On this point the evidence of a foreign student and investi- \ngator carries more weight than that of one to the manor born : — '' Every \npage in the early history of New England bears witness to the pa- \ntience, the firmness, the far-seeing wisdom of Winthrop. But to esti- \nmate these qualities as they deserve, we must never forget what the \nmen were with whom, and in some measure by whom, he worked. To \nguard the Commonwealth against the attacks of courtiers, church- \nmen and speculators, was no small task. But it was an even greater \nachievement to keep impracticable fanatics like Dudley and Endicott \nwithin the bounds of reason, and to use for the preservation of the \nstate those headstrong passions which at every turn threatened to \nrend it asunder.\" Doyle, English in America ; the Puritan Colonies, \ni. 165. \n\n\n1635. \n\n\nOVERMUCH lenity:' 379 \n\n\nwith a view to healing these factions was highly char- \nacteristic. The Lord was first sought. The prayer \nover, Yane declared the occasion of the meeting and \nthe result sought to be obtained from it ; which he \ndescribed as \"a more firm and friendly uniting of \nminds, especially of Mr. Dudley and Mr. Winthrop.\" \nIt must at first have been somewhat awkward for \nthe officious youth, as both Winthrop and Dudley pro- \nfessed an utter unconsciousness of any ill-feeling or \njealousy. They did not deny that there had been \nsomething of the sort long previous, but Winthrop \nprofessed \" solemnly that he knew not of any breach \nbetween his brother Dudley and himself : \" while Dud- \nley comfortably remarked \" that for his part he came \nthither a mere patient ; and so left it to others to \nutter their own complaints.\" Fortunately for Vane, \nthe existing governor, Haynes, then came to his aid, \nand, after a certain amount of clumsy circumlocution, \nproceeded, '' as his manner ever was,\" to deal with \nWinthrop \"openly and freely,\" specifying certain \ncases in which the latter had, as he expressed it, \n\" dealt too remissly in point of justice.\" To this \nWinthrop replied, and, after partly excusing and ex- \nplaining, came at last to the real point at issue. He \n\" professed that it was his judgment that, in the in- \nfancy of plantation, justice should be administered \nwith more lenity than in a settled state, because people \nwere then more apt to transgress, partly of ignorance \nof new laws and orders, partly through oppression of \nbusiness and other straits ; but, if it might be made \nclear to him that it was an error, he would be ready \nto take up a stricter course.\" The aid of the clergy \nwas then invoked. The matter was referred to the \nministers present, — Cotton, Hooker and Wilson, — \n\n\n380 REV. JOHN WHEELWRIGHT. 1636. \n\nto be considered overnight, and the next day they \nwere to report a rule for the future guidance of the \nmagistrates ; and this they did, all agreeing in one \nconclusion, \"that strict discipline, both in criminal \noffences and in martial affairs, was more needful in \nplantations than in a settled state, as tending to the \nhonor and safety of the gospel.\" Winthroj) there- \nupon professed himself satisfied. He admitted that \nhe had theretofore \" failed in overmuch lenity and \nremissness,\" but promised that he would \"endeavor \n(by God's assistance) to take a more strict course \nhereafter. Whereupon there was a renewal of lov^ \namongst them.\" \n\nThis took place on January | and g, 1636, and in \nthe following May young Yane was chosen governor \nto succeed John Haynes. He was chosen on the 25th \nof the month, or what is now the 4th of June. The \nday following John Wheelwright landed in Boston. \n\n\nCHAPTER II. \n\nMISTRESS ANNE HUTCHINSON. \n\nWhen Wheelwright found himself on New Eng- \nland soil, it must have been to the house of his brother- \nin-law, William Hutchinson, that he first directed \nhis steps. It was the reunion of a family ; for not \nonly was Mrs. Wheelwright a sister of Hutchinson, \nbut their mother also had now come over. Nor was \nWheelwriofht himself welcomed there as a relative \nmerely ; he was looked upon as another eminent man \nadded to the colony, — a new pulpit light. He at \nonce plunged into whatever of religious or political \nlife the little settlement contained ; for of that life \nthe house of William Hutchinson, or rather the house \nof his wife, Anne Hutchinson, had then for some time \nbeen the centre. \n\nIt has already been mentioned that the Hutchin- \nsons had come over to New England in 1634, about \ntwo years before Wheelwright. Of this couple their \ncontemporaries tell us that the husband was \" a man \nof very mild temper and weak parts, and wholly \nguided by his wife ; \" while she was a woman \" of \na haughty and fierce carriage, of a nimble wit and \nactive spirit,^ and a very voluble tongue, more bold \nthan a man, though in understanding and judgment \ninferior to many women.\" This vigorous bit of por- \ntraiture is from the pen of the Rev. Thomas Weld, \n\n1 \" Of a ready wit and bold spirit.\" Winthrop, i. 239, 296. \n\n\n382 MISTRESS ANNE HUTCHINSON. 1636. \n\nthe UDfortunate gentlewoman's most, malignant en- \nemy, and it is not necessary here to inquire as to its \ntruth to nature. Suffice it now to say that during the \ntwo years which intervened between her own arrival \nin Boston and the arrival of her husband's brother- \nin-law, Mistress Anne Hutchinson, as she was called, \nslowly, skilfully, conscientiously, had been accumulat- \ning, in the heart of the little, nascent community into \nwhich she had come, that mass of combustible mate- \nrial which was soon to kindle into a fierce blaze. \nWittingly or unwittingly, though probably the latter, \nshe had entered ujDon a desperate undertaking, which \nshe was destined to carry forward with a degree of \ncourage and persistence, combined with feminine \ntact, which made the infant commonwealth throb \nthrough its whole being. She had attempted a pre- \nmature revolt against an organized and firmly-rooted \noligarchy, of theocrats. \n\nThe early Massachusetts community was in its es- \nsence a religious organization. Church and state \nwere one ; and the church dominated the state. The \nfranchise was an incident to church membership. \nThe minister — the \" unworthy prophet of the Lord \" \n— was the head of the church. There was a deep sig- \nnificance, as there may have been a bitter sneer, in \nBlackstone's parting shot as he left Boston, in which \nthe \" lord-bishops \" were joined with \" the lord= \nbrethren.\" At the point it had now reached, the \nReformation of the previous century had resulted in \npractically substituting for a time many little poj^es \nand little bishops for the one pope and the few great \nbishops. The fundamental principle of that Refor- \nmation had been the paramount authority of the Holy \nScriptures as a rule or guide in life, as opposed to the \n\n\n1636. ''HIS WORD.\" 383 \n\ndictation of popes, synods and councils. The human \nmind after centuries of implicit obedience had re- \nvolted ; and, in the revolt, the reaction as usual was \ncomplete. Instead of unquestioning submission to \nhuman authority, no human authority whatever was \nallowed to intervene between man and God's Word. \nThe issue could not be put more forcibly than it was \nby John Knox in one of his discussions with Queen \nMary. She said to him : — \" You interpret Scripture \nafter one manner, the Pope and cardinals after an- \nother : whom shall I believe, or who shall be judge ? \" \n\n— and Knox at once replied — \" Ye shall believe God, \nthat plainly speaketh in His Word ; and further than \nthe Word teaches you, ye neither shall believe the \none nor the other. The Word of God is plain ; and \nif there appear any obscurity in one place, the Holy \nGhost, which is never contrarious to Himself, explains \nthe same more closely in other places ; so that there \ncan remain no doubt but unto such as obstinately \nremain ignorant.\" \n\nThus God's Word was beyond question, and it only \nremained to interpret it and declare its meaning in \nany given case ; but the interpreting and the declar- \ning were the function of the clergy. The \" lord-breth- \nren \" had thus been substituted for the \" lord-bishops,\" \n\n— many local popes for the one at Rome. The casu- \nistry to which the early New England clergy gravely \nhad recourse in defending the position thus assumed \nmight have moved the admiration of a Jesuit. When \nearnestly adjured by brethren, more liberal as well as \nmore logical, not to make men hypocrites by compel- \nling an outward conformity, thus practising that in \nexile which they themselves went into exile to escape, \n\n— when thus adjured, they replied that they had fled \n\n\n384 MISTRESS ANNE HUTCHINSON. 1636. \n\nfrom man's inventions ; but there was a wide differ- \nence between man's inventions and God's institutions, \nand they compelled a conformity only to the latter, \n^he institution being of God, the sin was not in the \nmagistrate who compelled, but in his perverse will \nwho stood in need of compulsion.^ And so the final \n''thus saith the Lord\" had passed from Kome to \nMassachusetts. Priest and inquisition had given way \nto bishop and high-commission, and they in their turn \nto minister and magistrate. \n\nIt is true, this system, unlike that of Rome, carried \nwithin it the seeds of its own decay, for it rested on \ndiscussion, and no final, inspired authority was recog- \nnized when irreconcilable differences of opinion arose. \nThe minister carried with him only such weight as \nbelonged to his individual character and learning, \nand to his ordained position ; though \" the unworthy \nprophet of the Lord,\" God had not touched that \nprophet's lips with fire, nor did he claim to be in \ndirect communication with Him. Neither were any \nintermediates recognized. Early New England ab- \njured all Saints. But when it came to the interpre- \ntation of the Scriptures, — the inspired Word, the \none guide both on earth and heavenward, — though \nopen and almost endless discussion was allowed and \neven encouraged, and that discussion, bristling with \ndialectics and casuistry, was overlaid with a rubbish \nof learning, yet it has not in the result always been \nat once apparent wherein the minister differed from \n\n1 \" Christ doth not persecute Christ in New England. . . . For \nthough Christ may and doth afflict his own members ; yet he doth \nnot afflict (much less persecute) Christ in them, but that which is \nleft of old Adam in them, or that which is found of the seed of \nthe serpent in them.\" Cotton, in Publications of N arragansett Club, \nii. 27-8- \n\n\n1636. COWL AND BANDS. 385 \n\nthe priest. Both priest and minister had recourse to \ncivil persecution to compel religious conformity ; and, \nwhile the fagots that consumed Servetus and Savon- \narola were not unlike, they forever bear witness to a \nstrong family resemblance between Romish cowl and \nbands of Geneva. \n\nNot unnaturally, therefore, it has of late been some- \nwhat the fashion to ignore this difference between \npriest and clergyman, and, indeed, some have even \nbeen disposed to deny its existence. Like Milton, \nthey have claimed that after all, — \" New Presbyter \n[was] but old Priest ^vrit large.\" And yet, practi- \ncally and in point of fact, the difference was not to \nbe measured, for in itself it was o-reat, and in its loo^i- \ncal consequences vital. It was the same difference \nin spiritual matters which exists politically between \nan absolute ruler under right divine, and a civil au- \nthority exercised under the restrictions of a written \nconstitution. In the spiritual contests of the six- \nteenth and seventeenth centuries the Pope represented \ndivine right ; the Bible, the written constitution. \nThe constitution was, it is true, indisputably vague, \nand everything depended on the construction given \nto its provisions. Except in certain small localities \nlike Holland, or among a few most advanced thinkers \nof the day, who, like Roger Williams, were looked \nupon as visionaries, the conception of spiritual free- \ndom and religious toleration had no more footing in \nthe mind of the seventeenth century than the idea \nof freiedom in crime and immunity from its legal pen- \nalties has now. Human thought had not yet grasped \nthe distinction between personal liberty where the \nrights of others are not involved, and license where \nthose rights are involved ; so far, indeed, from having \n\n\n386 MISTRESS ANNE HUTCHINSON. 1636. \n\ngrasped this distinction, one of the plainly stated con- \ntentions of tlie more advanced advocates of religious \ntolerance was, if a man conscientiously disbelieved in \nthe right of any human authority, he ought not to be \nforced to obey it. None the less, the first great step \ntowards educating the human mind to the difference \nbetween spiritual freedom and criminal license was \ntaken when Bible law was substituted for papal dic- \ntum. The written word then became matter for ju- \ndicial construction ; but, like any other written law, \nwhen once construed and its meaning ascertained by \ncompetent and recognized authority, it was held by \ncommon consent to be the rule in force. It only re- \nmained to compel obedience to it, just as now obe- \ndience is compelled to the criminal law. When, \ntherefore, Cotton argued that, while it was wrong to \npersecute man against conscience, no man's conscience \ncompelled him to reject \"the truth ; and therefore to \nforce the truth upon him could be no violation of con- \nscience, — when he argued in this way he uttered that \nwhich to us is foolishness ; but, from his standpoint \nof time and light, he was merely asserting that on \npoints of doubtful construction the law must be estab- \nlished by the tribunal of last resort, and, when once \nestablished, must be uniformly obeyed by all or en- \nforced upon all. The fallacy which lurked between \nhis premises and his conclusion did not suggest itself \nto him. A sjjiritual authority and a spiritual law \nwere deemed just as necessary as a criminal authority \nand a criminal law. \n\nNevertheless, though the divine of the reformed \nchurch of the sixteenth century did set himself up as \nthe ordained expounder of the written law, the impor- \ntance of the ground gained when a written law was \n\n\n1636. THE THEOLOGICAL MACHINE. 387 \n\nsubstituted for an inspired dictum must not be lost \nsight of. All else followed in due time. In the \nsearching discussion which ensued, the learning, the \ncommon sense, and finally even the authority and \ncommission of those who comprised the tribunal, were \nquestioned ; and at last the law itself, and the necessity \nof any law, or of general conformity to it, was openly \ndenied. \" This was some time a paradox, but now \nthe time gives it proof ; \" but two centuries and a half \nago, to the early New England Puritans, it was worse \nthan a paradox, — it was a blasphemy. As well doubt \nthe existence of God himself as question the binding \nauthority of His Word. \n\nThe Hebrew Bible was, then, the fundamental re- \nligious law — the spiritual constitution, as it were — \nof the Puritan community. The clergy were the or- \ndained and constituted expounders of that law, — the \nSupreme Theological Court. Before them and by them \nas a tribunal each point at issue was elaborately and \nlearnedly discussed ; reasons were advanced and au- \nthorities cited for each decision they rendered. Behind \ntheir decisions was the Word ; and behind the Word \nwas God and His Hereafter. The spiritual organiza- \ntion was complete. \n\nThe religion of the Puritan was, also, realistic in all \nits parts, — so realistic, indeed, as to be a practical \npiece of machinery, — human, mundane machinery. \nThere was God, the Constitution and the Court — \nand the clergy were the Court. But to the men and \nwomen composing the Puritan community, the Court \nwas no more a reality — hardly more a visible thing \n— than the Supreme Being himself ; for in those days \nreligion meant a great deal. It was no sentiment or \nabstraction. The superstition which prevailed is to \n\n\n388 MISTRESS ANNE HUTCHINSON. 1630. \n\nthe modern mind well-nigh inconceivable. All shared \nin it. Sleeping and waking, at bed and board, in the \npnlpit, in the field or at the work-bench, God and his \nprovidences, the Devil and his snares, were ever pres- \nent. Their direct interposition was seen in events \nthe most trivial. A harmless reptile crawls bewil- \ndered among the elders at a synod and is killed by- \none of them, \" and out of doubt the Lord discovered \nsomewhat of his mind in it ; \" so the serpent personi- \nfied the Devil, and the synod the churches of Christ, \nwhile Faith was represented by that elder who crushed \nthe head of the Evil One. There takes place \" a great \ncombat between a mouse and a snake, in the view of \ndivers witnesses ; \" and the pastor of the first church \nof Boston interprets the portent to his people, while \nthe governor of the colony records his words. The \nsnake is again the Devil, while the mouse becomes \n\" a poor contemptible people, which God had brought \nhither, which should overcome Satan here and dispos- \nsess him of his kingdom.\" Two unfortunate men are \ndrowned while raking for oysters ; \" it was an evident \njudgment of God upon them, fOr they were wicked \npersons.\" The hand of God was heavy also on those \nwho spake \" ill of this good land and the Lord's peo- \nple here ; \" some were taken by the Turks, and they \nand their wives and their little ones sold as slaves ; \nothers were forsaken of their friends, or their daugh- \nters went mad or were debauched, or their children \ndied of the plague, or their ships blew up with all on \nboard. Soon or late, some ill befell them or theirs ; \nand through that ill the finger of the Lord was re- \nvealed. A poor barber, called hastily to perform a \ndentist's ofBce, and bewildered in a storm of snow \nbetween Boston and Roxbury, is found frozen to \n\n\n1636. ''GATHERING PROVIDENCES:' 389 \n\ndeath ; and presently it is remembered he had been \na theological adherent of Mrs. Hutchinson. There \nbefalls a great freshet, and the Indians \" being povv- \nwcwing in this tempest, the Devil came and fetched \naway five of them.\" A father, industrious or inter- \nested in his task, works one hour after Saturday's \nsunset, and the next day his little child of five years \nis drowned ; and he sees in his misfortune only '' the \nrighteous hand of God, for his profaning His holy \nday against the checks of his own conscience.\" A \nwife is suspected of the murder of her husband, a \nmother of killing her illegitimate child, and as they \ntouched them \" the blood came fresh \" into the dead \nfaces, and the bodies *' bled abundantly.\" And when \nthe most terrible misfortunes incident to maternity be- \nfell Anne Hutchinson and her friend, the no less un- \nhappy Mary Dyer, the grave magistrates and clergy, \ngloating in blasphemous words over each lying detail \nof the monstrous fruit of their wombs, saw therein \n\" God himself bring in his own vote and suffrage \nfrom heaven.\" \n\nBut it is needless to multiply instances. The \nrecords of the time are full of them ; for even angry \nmen in their disputes would treasure up in memory \nevery trivial or ludicrous mishap which befell their \nojjponents, and, while so doing, they were said to be \nbusy \" gathering Providences.\" The finger of an om- \nnipresent Almighty was thus visible everywhere and \nat all times ; now meting out rewards and punish- \nments while reversinjj the action of the wind and \ntide, and then revealing itself in terror through \nstrange portents in the sky. \n\nAmong a people educated to this high pitch of fer- \nvor, theological controversy was the chief end towards \n\n\n890 MISTRESS ANNE HUTCHINSON. 1636. \n\nwhich the higher branches of education were directed. \nThe Scriptures, and the volumes of commentary upon \nthem, were the sole literary nutriment ; while they \nwere studied only that scholars might, with gloomy \njoy, dispute over the unknowable. Not that there were \nthen no other books in the world. It is true, there \nwas no light current literature in the modern sense of \nthe term ; but the great body of the classics existed, \nand every man and every woman of good education \nhad a familiarity with them now j30ssessed by few. \nThey were \" the humanities \" of the time. Of the \ngreat names in modern letters, also, the greatest were \nalready known. Boccaccio, Dante, Ariosto and Tasso \nwere familiar in the Italian. Don Quixote is alluded \nto in the New Canaan as a book with which every \none was acquainted. Rabelais had died nearly a \ncentury before, and the third reprint of Montaigne's \nEssays, in its English translation, had appeared in \n1632. Bacon, Shakspeare, Spenser and Ben Jonson \nhad done their work : Milton was doing his, for it was \nin 1634 that Com us was set upon the stage : but, to \nthe New England Puritan, Spenser was an idle rhyme- \nster, Jonson a profane scoffer, and Shakspeare a wan- \nton playwright. As to Boccaccio and Rabelais, copies \nof their works would in primitive Massachusetts have \nbeen rooted out as Devil's tares. That there w^ere \nFrench books, as well as Latin, in Governor Win- \nthrop's library, we know ; and it is possible to im- \nagine him sitting in his library in primitive Boston \nwith a volume of Montaigne in his hand ; but to En- \ndicott or Dudley and the rest, while those writings of \nCotton, which to us are as devoid of life as they are \nof value, were full of interest, the pages of the French \nhumorist would have seemed idle words. Fanaticism \n\n\n1G36. INTELLECTUAL ARIDITY. 391 \n\nis no less destructive to the capacity of general liter- \nary enjoyment than a diseased appetite is to a delicate \ntaste. Drunkards crave alcohol, and communities ex- \nalted with religious fervor care only for books on \ntheolog}^ Early New England had no others. Some \nadequate idea of the utter intellectual aridity which \nconsequently prevailed may be derived from the Sew- \nall diary. Sixty years after the Antinomian contro- \nversy, Pole's Synopsis, and the expositions of Calvin \nand Caryl, were the companions of the reading man's \nleisure, while the Theopolis Americana and the Mag- \nnalia were the ripe fruits of the author's brain. \n\nFortunately, the New Englander came of a hard- \nheaded stock. Though individuals at times lashed \nthemselves into a state of spiritual excitement bor- \ndering close upon insanity, and occasionally crossed \nthe line, this was not common. When all was said \nand done, there was in the early settlers a basis of \npractical, English common sense, — a habit of com- \nposed thought and sober action, which enabled them \nto bear up with steady gait under draughts of fanat- \nicism sufficiently deep and strong to have sent more \nvolatile brains reeling through paroxysms of delirium. \nOnly twice or thrice in all their history have New \nEnglanders as a mass lost their self-control ; and be- \ncause they lost it then, other communities, with whom \nlosing it has been matter of too frequent occurrence \nto excite remark, have never forgotten those occa- \nsions, nor allowed New Englanders to forget them. \nSuch an occasion was the Antinomian controversy, \nand such again was the witchcraft mania. \n\nAmong this people, — strong, practical, self-con- \ntained and tenacious, burning with a superstitious zeal \nwhich evinced itself in no sharp, fiery crackle, but in a \n\n\n392 MISTRESS ANNE HUTCHINSON. 1636. \n\nsteady glow, as of white heat, which two centuries did \nnot suffice wholly to cool, — among this people stood \nthe clergy, a class by themselves, almost a caste. \nLearned in things theological, highly moral, deeply im- \nbued with a sense both of the dignity and the duties \nof their calling, the first generation of New England \ndivines was no less bigoted as a class than men with \nminds at once narrow and strong are wont to be. That \nthey were to the last degree intolerant needs not be \nsaid, for all men are intolerant who, in their own con- \nceit, know they are right ; and upon this point doubt \nnever entered the minds of the typical divines of that \ngeneration. Their pride of calling was intense. Not \nonly in their pulpits, but in their daily lives they \nwere expected to and did make a peculiar sanctifica- \ntion obtrusively manifest. They were not as other \nmen ; and to this, not only their garments, but their \nScriptural phrase and severe \\4sage bore constant wit- \nness. And in these last characteristics — the dress, \nthe speech and the faces of the clergy — lay the heart \nand the heat of the great Antinomian controversy. \nThe ministers were the privileged class of that commu- \nnity, — \" God's unworthy prophets,\" as they phrased \nit. Living in the full odor of sanctity among God's \npeople, — His chosen people, whom He \" preserved \nand prospered beyond ordinary ways of Providence,\" \n— they constituted a powerful governing order. And \nnow, suddenly, a woman came, and calmly and per- \nsistently intimated that, as a class, God's prophets in \nNew England were not what they seemed. No longer \nwere they unworthy in their own mouths alone. \n\nThough she is said to have been a cousin of John \nDryden, little is known of Mrs. Hutchinson's ante, \ncedents in England; nor is it necessary that much \n\n\n163G. A MAGNETIC WOMAN. 393 \n\nshould be known. Her husband was the owner of an \nestate at Alford, and descended from a family the \ngenealogy of which has since been traced with results \nmore curious than valuable. Though Alford was so \nfar from the English Boston that Mrs. Hutchinson \ncould hardly have been a constant attendant at St. \nBotolph's Church, she seems to have been such an \nardent admirer of the Rev. John Cotton that, when \n\" he kept close for a time, and fitted himself to go to \nNew England,\" she prepared to follow. Born about \nthe year 1600, during the time she lived in Boston — \na little less than four years — Anne Hutchinson was \na woman in the full vigor of life. She had a strong \nreligious instinct, which caused her to verge closely on \nthe enthusiast, and a remarkably well-developed con- \ntroversial talent. But above all else Anne Hutchin- \nson, though devoid of attractiveness of person, was \nwonderfully endowed with the indescribable quality \nknown as magnetism, — that subtle power by which \ncertain human beings — themselves not knowing how \nthey do it — irresistibly attract others, and infuse them \nwith their own individuality. Among the many well- \nkno^vn phases of emotional religion, that of direct in- \ntercourse with the Almighty has not been the least \nuncommon ; and, if Mistress Hutchinson did not actu- \nally pretend to this, she verged dangerously near it. \nShe certainly in moments of deep spiritual enthusiasm \nfelt movements which she professed to regard as direct \ndivine revelations. Not that she actually claimed to \nbe inspired, or to speak as one prophesying ; but at \nintervals she professed to feel that the Spirit of God \nwas upon her, and then she was not as her ordinary \nself, or as other women. The exact line between this \nand inspiration is one not easy to draw ; yet probably \n\n\n394 MISTRESS ANNE HUTCHINSON. 1636. \n\nsome shadowy line did exist in her mind. However \nthis may be, the mere suggestion of such a thing was \nenough with the early Massachusetts divines. The \ndoctrine of an inward light was to them peculiarly \nhateful, and they regarded such a light rather as a \ngleam of hell fire than as a heaven-born beam. That \nthey themselves were not in any way inspired was a \ncardinal point in their religious faith.^ They had for \ntheir guide the written Word; and that only. For \nany one to claim to have more, — to be in direct spir- \nitual communication with the Almighty, — was to as- \nsert a su^Deriority in v»hat was the very soul of their \ncalling. They were \" unworthy prophets \" of the \nLord ; and here was one who claimed to be more \nnearly thatt they in the Master's confidence. But the \nGod they worshipped was that same Jehovah with \nwhom direct and personal intercourse had been held \nby the prophets of old. He was not a metaphysical \nabstraction. Freely pictured in glass and on canvas^ \nthe awe with which a finer sense has since surrounded \nHim did not surround Him then. Always present, \nalways in that human form in which He revealed him- \nself to Moses, his face might well be seen at any \nmoment, even as his voice was often heard and his \nhand felt. But to them, his servants. He had given \nonly his Scriptures through which to ascertain his \nwill. When, therefore. Mistress Hutchinson claimed, \nthrough a process of introspection, to evolve a know- \n\n^ This was explicitly set forth in the Westminster Confession of \n1643: \"The whole Council of God concerning- all things necessary \nfor his own Glory, Men's Salvation, Faith and Life, is either expressly \nset down in Scripture, or by good and necessary Consequence may be \ndeduced from Scripture : Unto which nothuig at any time is to be \nadded, whether by new Revelations of the Spirit, or Traditions of \nMen.\" See, also, Ellis, The Puritan Age in Massachusetts, 124-166. \n\n\n1636. AN ELOQUENT MYSTIC. 395 \n\nledge of the divine will from her own inner conscious- \nness, she not only, in the eyes of the ministers, began \nto share in the blasphemies of KnipperdoUing and \nJohn of Leyden, but she did so through the assertion \nof a most impudent and irritating superiority. If she \ndid not directly say it, her every act was a repetition \nof the phrase, \" I am holier than thou ! \" \n\nThus Mrs. Hutchinson's whole course in Massachu- \nsetts was a direct and insulting challenge to the body \nof the clergy. Bad enough in itself from their point \nof view, it was aggravated by the feminine ingenuity \nwith which she made herself disagreeable. She be- \nlonged to a type of her sex for the production of \nwhich New England has since achieved a considerable \nnotoriety. She seems to have been essentially trans- \ncendental. She might perhaps not inaptly be termed \nthe great prototype of that misty school. She knew \nmuch; but she talked out of all proportion to her \nknowledge. She had thought a good deal, and by \nno means clearly; having not infrequently mistaken \nwords for ideas, as persons with more inclination than \naptitude for controversy are wont to do. To confute \nher was not easy, for her disputation was involved in \na mist of language which gave the vagueness of a \nshadow to whatever she might be supposed to assert. \nNevertheless, here v/as this eloquent mystic lifting up \nher voice under the very eaves of the sanctuary, and \nthrowing the subtle charm of her magnetism over the \nhearts of God's people. \n\nBoston was in 1637 the village capital of an infant \ncolony. It was a very small place, — so small that \nwhen Josselyn visited it, a year later, he spoke of it as \ncontaining not above twenty or thirty houses. In this \nhe must have been mistaken, as a stranger often is, in \n\n\n896 MISTRESS ANNE HUTCHINSON. 1G3G. \n\nroughly estimating the size of a town new to him ; for, \neven then, Boston must have numbered about two \nthousand inhabitants of all ages.^ The original huts \nand cabins, of rough>hew^n logs, were fast giving place \nto a better class of frame houses, the Elizabethan \nfronts and overhanging gables of which looked out on \ncrooked, unpaved lanes, something more than cow- \npaths, but not yet streets. No building in the town \nwas eight years old, and the new brick house of Mr. \nCoddington, the treasurer of the province, was the \nonly one of the kind. It was a hard-working little \ncommunity; but, when work was done, only religion \nremained upon which social and intellectual cravings \ncould expend themselves. There were no newspapers, \n— no dances, parties, concerts, theatres or libraries. \nThey had the Sabbath services, followed by the church- \nmeetings, and the Thursday lectures. The wedding \nwas a civil service ; the funeral a sombre observance.^ \nIn a state of society such as this it was inevitable that \nthe love of excitement, common to all mankind, should \ntake a morbid shape. There must be religious sensa- \ntions, seeing there could be no other; and the place \n\n1 It is difficult to see how, with the strict church attendance then \nexacted, so large a population could have been accommodated in one \nmeeting-house. Yet in 1(338 Boston was called upon to furnish \ntwenty-six men for the Pequot War, out of a total levy of one hun- \ndred and sixty. The population of Massachusetts in 1637 could not \nwell have been less than twelve thousand, (See supra, S-iO,n.) It was \nprobably more than that. If the levy was proportional, it would in- \ndicate for Boston a population of at least one thousand nine hundred \nand fifty. \n\n'^ '' Marriages are solemnized and done by the Magistrates, and not \nby the Ministers. At burials, nothing is read, nor any funeral Sermon \nmade, but all the neighborhood, or a good company of them, come \ntogether by tolling of the bell, and carry the dead solemnly to his \ngrave, and there stand by him while lie is buried. The ministers are \nnot commonly present.\" Leehford, Plain Dealing, 94. \n\n\n163G. A SOCIAL LEADER. 397 \n\nwas so small that a moderate-sized sensation absorbed \nit wholly. Though the stage was far from large, Mrs. \nHutchinson found it admirably prepared for her ; the \naudience craved excitement, every eye was upon her, \nher voice filled the theatre. \n\nDuring her earlier life in Boston she seems to have \nacquired a well-deserved popularity by her considerate \nspirit and skill as a nurse and adviser in cases of child- \nbirth, and ailments peculiar to her sex. She was evi- \ndently gentle, and by nature sympathetic. Then she \nbegan to meddle with theology, to which, from the \nfirst, she had shown herself much inclined. Even on \nher voyage her utterances had excited doubts as to her \northodoxy in the mind of the Rev. Zachariah Symmes, a \ndevout man who had come wath her ; and his warnings \nto the magistrates for a time delayed her admission to \nthe church. But admitted she was at last, and about \ntwo years later she began to make her presence felt. \nHer husband's house stood in what might be called \nthe fashionable quarter of the town, — a good stone's \nthrow to the south of the church and behind it, not far \nfrom the town spring, and nearly opposite the house \nof Governor Winthrop.^ Here, and at the homes of \ncertain of her acquaintances, she presently began to \nhold a series of exclusively female gatherings, and \nlater of gatherings composed of both sexes. At the \nearlier of these she herself presided, and in all she was \nthe leading spirit. These meetings were numerously \nattended, and at those held exclusively for women, \nforty, sixty, and even eighty would be present. The \noriginal idea was to recapitulate, for the benefit of \n\n1 It occupied the Old Corner Bookstore lot, now so called, on Wash- \ning-ton and School streets, extending up the latter to the present City \nHall enclosure. Memorial History of Boston, i. 174, n., 579, n. \n\n\n398 MISTRESS ANNE HUTCHINSON. 1G36. \n\nsuch as had been unable to attend Sabbath services, \nthe substance of the recent discourses of the clergy, \nand more particidarly of Cotton. Small private gath- \nerings of a similar character had been not uncommon \never since the beginning of the settlement ; but, though \nthe idea was not new with Mrs. Hutchinson, she de- \nveloped it. Under her inspiration the germ grew \nrapidly ; or, as she might herself have said, it came \nup in a night, even as the gourd came up which God \nprepared for Jonah. The woman was in fact a born \nsocial leader. Her meetings were the events of a prim- \nitive season. \n\nAt first the elders and magistrates favored them \nand smiled upon her. It looked like an awakening ; \nsouls were being drawn to Christ. It soon became \nwhat would now be known as a revival. But Anne \nHutchinson was light-headed as well as voluble. She \nhad an unruly tongaie as well as an insatiable ambition, \nand, not long contenting herself with the mere repeti- \ntion of sermons, she began to comment upon them, to \ninterpret and to criticise. In other words, she set up \nas a preacher on her own account. The women were \nnot accustomed to hear one of their own sex \" exer- \ncise,\" and she was popular among them ; so they \nflocked to her more and more. A community living \nin a state of religious exaltation is of course predis- \nposed to mental epidemics. Accordingly, to the utter \ndismay of the clergy and the old magistrates, every one \nnear enough to feel her influence was soon running \nafter the new light. \" It was a wonder,\" wrote Win- \nthrop, \" upon what a sudden the whole church of Bos- \nton (some few excepted) were become her new con- \nverts, and many also out of the church, and of other \nchurches also ; yea ! many profane persons became of \n\n\n163G. A PROPHETESS. 399 \n\nher opinion.\" And in another place he asserts that \n\" she had more resort to her for counsell about matter \nof conscience than any minister (I might say all the \nelders) in the country.\" To the same effect the Rev. \nThomas Weld declared that she \" had some of all sorts \nand quality in all places to defend and patronize \" her \nopinions ; \" some of the magistrates, some gentlemen, \nsome scholars and men of learning, some burgesses of \nour General Court, some of our captains and soldiers, \nsome chief men in towns, and some men eminent for \nreligion, parts and wit.\" Then Mrs. Hutchinson's \nhead turned. She had a calling to be a religious en- \nthusiast, and it would seem that visions of political \ngreatness also began to float before her. In imag- \nination she saw her husband seated in the chair of \nWinthrop and of Vane, with herself by his side, \" a \nprophetess, raised up of God for some great work now \nat hand, as the calling of the Jews.\" \n\nUnfortunately for Mistress Hutchinson, what has \nsince been known as \" the emancipation of woman \" \nhad not in the first half of the seventeenth century \nbeen formulated among political issues, and the more \nconservative soon began to look upon her much as \nGovernor Winthrop subsequently looked on crazy \nMistress Ann Hopkins, — \"a godly young woman \nand of special parts,\" who had lost her understanding \n\" by occasion of her giving herself wholly to read- \ning and writing ; \" whereas, \" if she had attended her \nhousehold affairs, and such things as belong to women, \nand not gone out of her way and calling to meddle \nin such things as are proper for men, whose minds \nare stronger, etc., she had kept her wits, and might \nhave improved them usefully and honorably in the \nplace God had set her.\" \n\n\n400 MISTRESS ANNE HUTCHINSON. 1G36. \n\nBut at first Mrs. Hutchinson was encouraged. In \nmodern language, she was even fashionable ; her se- \nances were in vogue. Not only did the thoughtful \nand the half-crazed, but the very parasites flocked to \nthem. Side by side with young Harry Vane were \nKichard Gridley, \" an honest, poore man, but very apt \nto meddle in publike affaires, beyond his calling or \nskill,\" and canny Jane Hawkins, \" notorious for fa- \nmiliarity with the Devil.\" ^ Indeed, there have not \ncome down to us from those times many touches of \nnature more life-like than Wheelwright's description \nof the grounds of \" goodwife Hawkins's \" Antinomian- \nism. The Rev. Thomas Weld had accused her, in the \nlanguage just quoted, of being a witch ; whereupon \nWheelwright very sensibly replied that she was — \n\n\" A poore, silly woman, yet having so much wit as, per- \nceiving Mrs. Hutchinson ambitious of proselytes, to supply \nher wants she attended on her weekly lecture (as it is \ncalled), where, when Mrs. Hutchinson broached any new \ndoctrine, she would be the first would taste of it : And being \ndemanded whether it were not clear to her, though she \nunderstood it not, yet would say, Oh yes, very clear. By \nwhich means she got, through Mrs. Hutchinson's affection \nto her, some good \\dctuals, insomuch that some said she fol- \nlowed Christ for loaves. Now seeing those things were so, \nme thinks our Author need not have been so rigid in his \nopinion of her . . . when, as it appears, she complied with \nher patroness, not so much out of love to her positions as \npossets, — being guilty, I think, of no other sorcery, unless \nit were conjuring the spirit of Error into a Cordial.\" ^ \n\n1 Weld, Short Story, 31. The unfortunate Jane Hawkins' procliv- \nities to the Evil One g-ave Governor Winthrop much trouble ; for \" she \ngrew into great suspicion to be a witch \" (Winthrop, i. *2(i3). Where \nno other sources of information are cited, Winthrop's History, and \nWeld's Short Story are the authorities for the narrative. \n\n2 Bell, John WheeluTight, 198. \n\n\n1636. ''DUNG CAST ON THEIR FACES:' 401 \n\nFor the severe old tlieocrats it was a serious matter \nto have a school of criticism — a viva voce weekly \nreligious review, as it were — thus spring into life, \nunder the very eaves of the meeting-house. They had \nbeen accustomed to have their teachings accepted as \noracles ; but those teachings now no longer passed \nunchallenired- nor were the voices of the critics hushed \neven at the gates of the tabernacle. On the contrary \nboth Mrs. Hutchinson and her disciples audaciously \ncarried their war into Africa. She herself publicly \nleft the congregation when the pastor, Wilson, rose \nto preach. Others followed her example, contemp- \ntuously turning their backs on their ministers ; while \nit was plaintively observed that \" the most of them \nwere women, and they pretended many excuses for \ntheir going out, which it was not easy to convince of \nfalsehood in them, or of their contempt \" of the pas- \ntor.^ Yet others boldly and in open meeting chal- \nlenged the minister's words almost before they had \npassed his lips. So that the Rev. Thomas Weld was \ndriven lugubriously to exclaim, with a degree of feel- \ning which speaks volumes as to his own individual \nexperiences in that kind, — \n\n\" Now, after our sermons were ended at our public lec- \ntures, you might have seen half a dozen pistols discharged \nat the face of the preacher (I mean) so many objections \nmade by the opinionists in the open assembly against our \ndoctrine delivered, if it suited not their new fancies, to the \nmarvellous weakening of holy truths delivered. . . . Now \nthe faithful ministers of Christ must have dung cast on \ntheir faces, and be no better than legal preachers, Baal's \npriests. Popish factors, Scribes, Pharisees, and opposers of \nChrist himself I Now they must be pointed at, as it were \nwith the finger, and reproached by name.\" \n1 Cotton, Way Cleared, 01. \n\n\n402 MISTRESS ANNE HUTCHINSON. 1G3C. \n\nThe cup was indeed a bitter oue. Yet, bitter at \nbest, it was administered with a perverse ingenuity \nwhich distilled it to gall. Mistress Hutchinson pro- \nfessed what was called, in the theological parlance of \nthe time, the Covenant of Grace, as distinguished from \nthe Covenant of Works. Without going into any de- \ntailed explanation of long-forgotten seventeenth cen- \ntury theology, it is sufficient for present purposes to \nsay that the relations of the Creator ^vith mankind \nseem in it to have been largely based on the analogy \nof a human landlord and tenant. To mankind the \nearth had been given ; not outright, but on certain \nterms and conditions, all of which were expressed in \nthe Hebrew Bible. These terms, as primarily set \nforth, had been violated by Adam, and the original \ncovenant between Creator and created, known as the \nCovenant of Works, had then ceased to be binding, \nand been terminated by one party to it. Under this \ncovenant all of the seed of Adam would have been \nsaved, and enjoyed after mundane death an eternity \nof heavenly life. When the original Covenant of \nWorks was thus cancelled, the Creator, instead of, so \nto speak, ejecting and destroying Adam, made, out of \na spirit of pure mercy, a new covenant with him and \nhis seed, under which not all of the sons of man would \nbe saved, but only such of them as the Creator might \nsee fit to spare, — the Lord's elect. And this was \nknown as the Covenant of Grace.^ \n\n^ \" To open and clear this matter the following Positions may be \nlaid down. \n\n1. \" Jf has pleased God all along from the beginning of the World to \ntransa'-t with man in a Covenant way. This is an effect of God's good \npleasure towards him. God could be no debtor to his creature, till \nhe made himself so by his own promise. He might, if he had sfl \npleas'd, stood upon his Sovereignty, and challenged the Obedience \n\n\n1636. ''IN A COVENANT WAY.\" 403 \n\nOriginally, therefore, for one to be under a Cove- \nnant of Works meant to be of those left under the \noriginal and violated compact, and consequently not \nincluded among those admitted to the benefits of the \nnew compact, or Covenant of Grace. In other words, \nthose under a Covenant of Works were the unregrn- \nerate seed of Adam, — not the Lord's elect ; those \nunder a Covenant of Grace were the regenerate seed. \nThe whole question went back to the third chapter of \nthe book of Genesis, — the garden, the serpent, origi- \nnal sin and the fall of man. \n\nThe theory of the two covenants, starting from this \nfar-away origin, underwent during the fierce religious \ncontroversies of the reformation an outward change at \n\nfrom him that was due to him, without eng-aging any reward for it. \nBut to shew his goodness and bounty to man, he has been pleas'd to \nbind himself to him by Covenant. \n\n2. ''GOD never has made but tivo Covenants with man: which are \nordinarily distinguish'd into, the Covenant of Works, and the Covenant \nof Grace. The Covenant of Works, was that which God made with \nAdam in a state of Innocence ; in which all his seed were compre- \nhencfed with him : and under which, he as their Head stood a pro- \nbationer for life, upon the condition of perfect obedience. Of this \nCovenant we have an account in many places of Scripture. The \nCovenant of Grace is with man fallen : the first revelation whereof was \nmade presently after God had past sentence upon him ; and the first \naccount we have of it is in that promise, Gen. 8. 1.5. And was more \nand more explained as God saw fit at divers times, and in divers ways \nto the fathers by the Prophets : but especially to Abraham and the \nChurch of Israel ; as the writings of the Prophets fully shew.\" Wil- \nliams, Essay to Prove the Interest of the Children of Believers in the \nCovenant (1727), 5-6. \n\nWinthrop says that Mrs. Hutchinson ' ' brought over with her two \ndangerous errors : 1. That the person of the Holy Ghost dwells in a \njustified person. 2. That no sanctification can help to evidence to us \nour justification. From these two grew many branches; as, 1, Our \nunion with the Holy Ghost, so as a Christian remains dead to every \nspiritual action, and hath no gifts nor graces, other than such as are \nin hypocrites, nor any other sanctification but the Holy Ghost him- \nself.\" (i. *200.) This is Winthrop's first mention of Mrs. Hutchinson. \n\n\n404 MISTRESS ANNE HUTCHINSON. 1636. \n\nthe hands of Luther. It was,. indeed, a necessary part \nof the reaction ao:aiust mediaeval Romanism that heart- \npiety and spiritual exaltation, or justification by faith \nas it was termed, should be opposed to the tests of \nconfession, penance, pilgrimages, legacies to the church, \nmasses, Ave Marias, etc., all constituting justification \nby works. In the theological parlance of the sixteenth \nand seventeenth centuries, therefore, neither grace nor \nworks, as applied to the two covenants, signified what \nthey signified in the beginning, or what they signify \nnow. Grace was no longer an act of supreme mercy, \nas at first, nor was it conscientious carriage in life, as \nnow ; but it implied a certain vague and mystic exal- \ntation and serenity of soul arising from the conscious- \nness of a Heaven-directed heart, — a serenity not to \nbe attained by the most exact observance of the for- \nmalities of religion ; the word works, on the other \nhand, did not imply, as now it would, the idea of a \nlife devoted to good deeds, as distinguished from one \nof mere empty professions, but it meant simply a ygid \nand exact compliance with the forms of pietism, — its \nfastings, its prayers, its sanctimoniousness and harsh \ndiscipline, — in a word, with all external observances \ninvolving continuous mortification of soul as well as \nbody.^ Viewed from a modern point of view the sev- \nenteenth century Covenant of Grace was as mystic, in- \ndefinable and delusive as its Covenant of Works was \nharsh, material and repulsive. \n\nNevertheless, there the two covenants were, the very \ncorner-stones of theology, — recorded and set forth \nfrom the beginning of the world, accepted by all. The \nsingle question was as to the elect, — which among \n\n1 This difficult subject is fully discussed by Dr. G. E. Ellis in his \nPuritan Age in Massachusetts, 300-302. \n\n\n1636. ''TRUE inwardness:' 405 \n\nthe living seed of Adam were, through the Covenant \nof Grace, to enjoy life everlasting ? — and which, walk- \ning under the Covenant of Works, were damned to an \neternity of Hell fire ? When, dead in the flesh, the im- \nmortal soul of the believer appeared before God's judg- \nment seat, how justify the life which had been lived ? \nWhat pleas for salvation would be listened to ? And \none class of religionists insisted that a record of faith- \nfully observed rules of conduct, a careful regard for \nthe decalogue, alms, fasts, Sabbath attendance, — all \nthis was but to claim the advantage of the abrogated \nCovenant of Works. Hell yawned for such. On the \nother hand was infinite faith, a love of Christ un- \nlimited, an inward sweetness and light, — and these, \nin their case they proclaimed, meant a justification \nthrough Grace. \n\nThe only certain elements in the awful problem were \ndeath and the judgment. The situation, accordingly, \nis not one conceivable now ; but it was very real among \nthose dwelling in Massachusetts in 1636, when Mistress \nAnne Hutchinson proceeded to draw the line. With \nher it may be said to have been a question of afflatus, \nfor she contended that the divine spirit dwelt in every \ntrue believer ; but that the fact of any single person \n— even though such person might be a minister of the \ngospel, of extraordinary gifts — being a true believer, \ncould not with any certainty be inferred either from a \ndemeanor of sanctity or from conduct in life. Mrs. \nHutchinson's Covenant of Grace is, perhaps, most \nnearly expressed in modern religious cant as a \" con- \ndition of true inwardness.\" But with her it further \nimplied the actual indwelling of the Spirit of the \nLord. He in whom that Spirit dwelt was of the elect. \nHe in whom it did not dwell might be a very worthy \n\n\n406 MISTRESS ANNE HUTCHINSON. 163d \n\nman, and what we would call a good conventional min- \nister ; but God's seal was not on his lips. \n\nThe conclusion to be drawn from all this was pain- \nfully apparent. To say that a grave divine was under \na Covenant of Works was a gentle paraphrase for \ncalling him a \" whited sepulchre.\" This certainly \nwas bold enough ; but Mrs. Hutchinson did not stop \nhere. With great cunningness of aggravation — \nwith an almost unsurpassed faculty of making herself \ninnocently offensive — she then proceeded, not to des- \nignate particular divines as being under a Covenant \nof Works, but to single out two of their whole order \nas walking in a Covenant of Grace. These two were \nJohn Cotton, and, after his arrival, John W^heel- \nwright. The others were necessarily left to make the \nbest of an obvious inference. \n\nLooked at even after the lapse of two centuries and \na half, and in the cold perspective of history, it must \nbe conceded that this was more than the meekest of \nhuman flesh could be expected quietly to endure ; but \nthe early clergy were not conspicuous for meekness. \nNor had they come to New England with this end in \nview. On the contrary, they had come expecting \nGod's people to be there ruled by God's Word ; and \nthat Word God's ministers were to interpret. And \nnow, on the very threshold of this theocracy, the sanc- \ntity of His mouthpiece was disputed. They loved con- \ntroversy dearly ; but this was no case for controversy. \nGod's kingdom was threatened from within ; the ser- \npent was among them. The head of the serpent must \nbe crushed. So they sternly girded themselves for the \nfray : and opposed to them was one woman only ; but \nher tongue was as a sword, and she had her sex for a \nshield. \n\n\nCHAPTER III. \n\nA QUARREL IN A VESTRY. \n\nIt was not until it reached its later stages that what \nhas passed into New England's history as the Antino- \nmian controversy involved the whole province of Mas- \nsachusetts. At first it was confined to the church in \nBoston, — a family affair, so to speak. Mrs. Hutch- \ninson, like many other women before and since, did \nnot fancy her minister. He failed to appeal to her. \nThe cause of her dislike is not known. Most prob- \nably it lay upon the surface and was of a personal \ncharacter ; for the Rev. John Wilson, though doubtless \nin his way a worthy, well-intentioned man of the com- \nmonplace, conventional kind, had about him little that \nwas either sympathetic or attractive. Harsh in feature \nand thick of utterance,^ he was coarse of fibre, — hard, \nmatter-of-fact, unimaginative. In his home and church \nlife he is reputed to have been a not unkindly man, \nand a \" devoted friend and helper to those who needed \nhis love and care ; \" while in his pulpit he was more \nremarkable for his strength of faith and zeal for ordi- \nnances than for his talents as a preacher. On the \nother hand, he was by nature stern, unrelenting, big- \noted ; a man \" than whom orthodoxy in New England \nhad no champion more cruel and more ungenerous.\" ^ \nOf his conduct and bearing in the Antinomian con- \n\n^ Johnson, Wonder- Working Providence, 40. \n\n2 J. A. Do^sIq, English in America: The Puritan Colonies, i. 419. \n\n\n408 A QUARREL IN A VESTRY. 1588-1677. \n\ntroversy of 1637 much will need to be said in these \npages, while in the Baptist persecution of twenty years \nlater his zeal and passion led him to revile and even \nstrike prisoners being led away from the judgment \nseat ; ^ and, in 1659, when the two Quakers, William \nRobinson and Marmaduke Stevenson, were hanged on \nBoston Common, the aged pastor of the First Church \nnot only denounced them fiercely from his pulpit, but \nhe even railed at them from the foot of the gallows.^ \n\n1 \" Upon the pronouncing- of [my sentence] as I went from the Bar, \nI exprest myself in these words : ' I blesse God I am counted worthy to \nsuifer for the name of lesus ; ' whereupon lohn Wilson (their Pastor as \nthey call him) strook me before the Judgment Seat, and cursed me, \nsaying, ' The Curse of God, or lesus, goe with thee ; ' so we were car- \nried to the Prison.\" Letter from Obadiah Holmes in /// N ewes from \nNew England, iv. Mass. Hist. Soc. Coll. ii. 47. \n\n'^ With these two was Mary Dyer, who will be often referred to in \nthis narrative. She was reprieved, and, when the others were hanged, \nsat on the steps of the scaffold. The story is most characteristic of \nthe time and people under discussion, but can only be told in the \nquaint langiiage of the original chronicle : — \n\n\" Then Mary Dyar was called, and your Governour said to her, to \nthis effect, — Mary Dyar, you shall go to the place whence you came, \nan I from thence to the place of Execution, and be hanged there until \nyou are Dead : — To which she replied. The Will of the Lord be \ndone. — Then your Governour said, Take her away. Marshal : She \nAnswered, Yea, joyfully shall I go. — So she was brought to the \nHouse of Correction again, and there continued, with her other two \nFriends, in Prison, tUl the 27th of the same Month ; . . . And on the \n27th of the 8th Month, aforesaid, ye cans' d the Drums to beat, to \ngather your Soldiers together for the Execution ; and after your Wor- \nship was ended, your Drums beat again, and your Captain, James Oli- \nver, came with his Band of Men, and the Marshal, and some others, \nto the Prison, and the Doors were opened, and your Marshal and Jay- \nlor caird for W. Robinson and M. Stevenson, and had them out of the \nPrison, and Mary Dyar out of the House of Correction, . . . and your \nCaptain, with liis Band of Men, led them the back way {it seems you \nwere afraid of the fore-way, lest it should affect the People too much) \nto the Place of Executioji. and caused the Drums to beat, when they \nattempted to speak (hard Work) and plac'd them near the Drums, for \nthat purpose, that when they spake, the People might not hear them, \n\n\n1659. « YOUR OLD, BLOODY PRIEST.'' 409 \n\nIn such a man as this, however useful he might be \nfor much of the coarser though necessary work of life, \nthere was little to attract a person of delicate percep- \n\n•who in great Multitudes flock'd about them. ... I say, your Captain \ncaused his Drums to Beat, when they sought to speak ; and his Drums \nhe would not cease beating-, tho' they spake to him, whilst they were \nspeaking. (A Barbarous Inhumanity never heard of before in the \nEnglish Nation, to be used to suffering People.) And as he led them \nto the place of Execution, your old bloody Priest, Wilson, your High- \nPriest of Boston (who was so old in Blood, that he would have had \nSamuel Gorton, and those with him, long ago to be put to Death, for \ntheir Differing in Religion ; and when but one Vote parted it, was so \nMad, that he openly inveighed against them who did it, saying in the \nPulpit, Because thou hast let go the Man, whom I have appointed to \nDestruction, Thy Life shall go for his Life, and thy People for his \nPeople ; Preaching from that Text, who said, — He would carry Fire \nin one Hand, and Faggots in the other, to Burn all the Quakers in \nthe World. — Who having some of those Peoples Books in his Hand, \nas they were burning the Books of Friends by your Order, threw them \nin the Fire, saying, — From the Devil they came, (Blasphemous \nWretch !) and to the Devil let them go. — He who said to ye, when \nye sat on the Blood of these Men, — Hang them,^ or else (drawing \nhis Finger athwart his Throat, so making Signs for it to be cut, if ye \ndid it not) I say, this your bloody old High-Priest, with others of his \nBrethren in Iniquity, and in persecuting the Just, met them in your \nTrain-Field ; and, instead of having a sense upon him suitable to such \nan Occasion, and as is usual with Men of any Tenderness, he fell a \nTaunting at W. Robinson, and shaking his Hand in a light Scoffing \nmanner, said, — Shall such Jacks as you come in before Authority \nwith your Hats on ? — with many other taunting words. To which \nW. Robinson replied, — Mind you, mind you. It is for the not putting \noff the Hat, we are put to Death. — And when W. Robinson went \ncheerfully up the Ladder, to the topmost round above the Gallows, \nand spake to the People, — That they suffered not as evil Doers, but \nas those who testified and manifested the Truth, and that this was the \nDay of their Visitation, and therefore desired them to mind the Light \n\n1 \" This is that Priest Wilson, whom C. Mather, in his late History of New Eng- \nland, so much commends, and with his Brother in Iniquity, John Norton (of whom \nmore hereafter) ranks witli John Cotton (a Man of a better Spirit, in his Day) un- \nder the Title of Reverend and Renowned Ministers of the Gospel, comparing him \nto David and John the Apostle ; and calls. That Great Saint and Worthy Man, that \nwas such an irreverent, unworthy and blood-thirsty Persecutor of the People of \nGod : But, let him know, That Sinners are no Saints ; nor, no Murtherer hath Eter- \nnal Life abiding in him, 1 John 3. 15.\" \n\n\n410 A QUARREL IN A VESTRY. 1635-6. \n\ntion like Mistress Hutchinson, — nay, more, there \nmust have been in him much that was absolutely re- \npulsive to her. The antipathy clearly was not on the \npastor's side. Indeed, at first, in his heavy, mannish \nway, he seems to have been disposed to patronize his \nfemale parishioner, so much his intellectual superior. \nHe encouraged her meetings, manifesting his good- \nwill whenever occasion offered, and bearing cheerful \nwitness to the ways of free grace. He was not a man \nto entertain a secret, instinctive distrust ; for, though \ncompounded of a clay less fine, he was by nature \nfrank, open and outspoken. Presently his suspicions \nwere aroused. He was human, too, and undoubtedly \nhe began to feel jealous. To the pastor, this con- \nstant and public adulation of the teacher could not be \naltogether grateful. Indeed, it was plainly meant to \nbe otherwise than grateful to him. To bear and for- \nbear was not in the man's nature ; so by degrees he \npassed from open approval to silent disaj^proval, and \nthen it was not long before he began to speak out. \nSo far as his side of the case was concerned, this did \n\nthat was in them, the Light of Christ, of which he Testified, and was \nnow going to Seal it with his Blood. — This old Priest in much Wicked- \nness said, — Hold thy Tongue, be silent, Thou art going to Dye with \na Lye in thy Mouth. . . . So, being come to the place of Execution, \nHand in Hand, all three of them, as to a Wedding day, with great \ncheerfulness of Heart ; and having taken leave of each other, with \nthe dear Embraces of one another, in the Love of the Lord, your Exe- \ncutioner put W. Robinson to Death, and after him M. Stevenson . . . \nand, to make up all, when they were thus Martyr' d by your Order, \nyour said Priest, Wilson, made a Ballad of those whom ye had Mar- \ntyr'd. . . . Three also of Priest W^Uson's Grand-Children died within a \nshort time after ye had put these two Servants of the Lord to Death, \nas something upon his Head, who cared not how he bereaved the Mo- \nther, of her Son, and the Children, of their Father, and the Wife, of \nher Husband. The Judgment of the Lord in . . . which, is to be taken \nNotice of.\" New England Judged (1661,) pp. 122-5, 126, 136. \n\n\n163G. THE YOUNG SAP. 411 \n\nnot mend matters ; for as an antagonist — in what \nmight be called the socio-parochial fence of that day — \nJohn Wilson was wholly at the mercy of Anne Hutch- \ninson. She was as quick as he was clumsy, and his \ngrave censure was met with a contempt which was at \nonce ingenious and studied. Presently she found that \nhe stood in her way. In Boston there was but one \nchurch ; and clearly that church was not large enough \nfor both. Cotton was Mrs. Hutchinson's favorite \npreacher. At his feet she had sat at home ; when he \ncame to New England she soon followed. Next to \nCotton's, she set most store on the teachings of her \nhusband's kinsman, Wheelwright ; and when Wheel- \nwright lauded in Boston her influence was at its height. \nThe church was already split into factions. On \nthe one side was the pastor, supported by Winthrop \n— then deputy — and a few others ; on the other \nside was Mrs. Hutchinson, carrying with her the \nwhole body of the members, with the governor, Yane, \nat their head. The teacher, Cotton, also notoriously \ninclined to her. The young sap was moving in the \ntree, and Boston, at least, was ripe for revolt against \nthe old order of men and of things ; but hostilities had \nnot yet begun. \n\nThe coming of Wheelwright brought on a crisis. \nIt was Mrs. Hutchinson, doubtless, who now conceived \nthe idea — if indeed she had not already for some time \nbeen entertaining it — of having Wheelwright in- \nstalled as an assistant teacher by Cotton's side. This \ncould not, of course, be agreeable to Wilson, who for \nsome time must have had cause to realize that his own \nreligious influence was on the wane : just as he had \nseen the poHtical influence of his life-long friend and \npatron, Winthrop, wane before. He and his friends \n\n\n412 A QUARREL IN A VESTRY. 1636. \n\naccordingly, if they did not actually oppose the sug- \ngestion, received it with coldness. Then Mrs. Hutch- \ninson seems to have begun hostilities. She struck ; \nand she struck none the less hard because the blow \nwas given in a woman's way. She intimated that the \npastor of the church was, after all, not an able minis- \nter of the New Testament ; he was not sealed with the \nspirit ; he was under a Covenant of Works. The con- \nflict now began to rage fiercely all through the little \ntown. Wilson was struggling for what to him was \nworth more than life, — a minister, he was struggling \nto sustain himself in his pulpit and before his people. \nWith him was Winthrop. Opposed to him was all \nBoston. Indeed, the members of his parish seem even \nnow to have been as men infatuated ; they acted as \nthose might act who were subject to the wiles of a sor- \nceress. \n\nMeanwhile, outside of Boston all was comparatively \nquiet. The contagion of the new opinions had, in- \ndeed, spread to Roxbury and a few other of the neigh- \nboring towns, church-members of which had doubtless \nattended Mrs. Hutchinson's gatherings ; but, as a \nwhole, the rest of the province pursued the even tenor \nof its way, though the air was full of rumors as to the \nstrange uproar going on in Boston, — the new ideas \nadvanced there, the dissensions in the church, the \nquarrel between Mr. Wilson and his people, the dubi- \nous attitude of Cotton. The sympathies of the other \nministers were wholly with Wilson. Not only was he \na member of their order of the regular, conventional \ntype, but he was receiving harsh treatment ; for the \ncourse of Mrs. Hutchinson and those who followed \nher was as unprovoked and cruel as it was ingenious \nand feminine. \n\n\n1630. A CONCOURSE OF MINISTERS. 413 \n\nPresently, therefore, the ministers of the outlying \ntowns determined to intervene, in their brother's be- \nhalf, and endeavor to restore peace to his distracted \nchurch. A meeting of the General Court was to take \nplace in October, and it was arranged that the min- \nisters should then come to Boston and hold a confer- \nence on these matters among themselves and with the \nmembers of the Court. They did so Tuesday, the \n25th, and. Cotton and Wheelwright both taking part \nwith the rest, some progress into the incomprehensible \nwas made. They agreed on the point of sanctification, \n\" so as they all did hold that sanctification did help \nto evidence justification ; \" but they were not all of a \nmind as to the \" indwelling of the person of the Holy \nGhost ; \" and none of the ministers were disposed to \ngo the length of asserting \" a union of the person of \nthe Holy Ghost, so as to amount to a personal union ; \" \nthough it was understood that Mrs. Hutchinson and \nGovernor Vane held even this advanced tenet. How- \never unintelligible the discussion might be in other \nresj^ects, one thing was clear, — if the last proposition \nwas admitted, inspiration followed. The way was \nopen for the appearance of a brood of God's prophets \nin New England. \n\nThe conference resulted in nothing, and the open \nmove, already referred to, was made in favor of \nWheelwright as an assistant teacher. This had al- \nready been proposed at the meeting of the Boston \nchurch held after the services of the previous Sab- \nbath : and now on Sunday, the 30th, five days after \nthe conference of the clergy, the proposal was brought \nup for final action. The meeting was one of far more \nthan ordinary interest, for it was felt that something \ndecisive was at hand ; and presently, when the ser- \n\n\n414 A QUARREL IN A VESTRY. Oct. \n\nvices were ended, the calling of Wheelwright was for- \nmally propounded. It is easy to imagine the silence \nwhich for a brief space prevailed in the crowded meet- \ning-house. It was at last broken by Winthrop, who \nrose and said that he could not give his assent to the \nthing proposed. He spoke with much feeling, and \nreferred to the fact that the church was already well \nprovided with able ministers, *' whose spirits they \nknew, and whose labors God had blessed in much love \nand sweet peace ; \" while he objected to Wheel- \nwright, as being a man \" whose spirit they knew not, \nand one who seemed to dissent in judgment.\" He \nthen proceeded to specify certain questionable doc- \ntrines supposed to be entertained by the new candi- \ndate, having reference to a distinction between \" crea- \ntures \" and \" believers,\" and the relations of either, or \nboth, with the Holy Ghost. Vane immediately fol- \nlowed on the other side, and \" marvelled \" at the point \njust made ; quoting the high authority of Cotton in \nsupport of the doctrine in question. This reference \nnaturally brought Cotton to his feet, who proceeded \nto demur and define ; and in closing called upon \nWheelwright to explain himself on a few controverted \npoints of theology. This the latter then proceeded \nto do. When he had finished, Winthrop closed the \ndebate, for the time being, by declaring that, although \nhe personally felt the utmost respect for Mr. Wheel- \nwright, yet he could not consent to choose him an \nassociate teacher, \" seeing he was apt to raise doubtful \ndisputations.\" \n\nThe matter was taken up again the next day. In \nthe little village community, anything which affected \nthe church affected every member of it. The proposal \nto make Mr. Wheelwright an associate teacher, and \n\n\n1636. ''DOUBTFUL DISPUTATIONS.\" 415 \n\nthe discussion to which it had given rise, had all that \nSunday evening and the next morning been the one \nsubject talked about in every household and at each \nstreet corner. A good deal of feeling was evinced \nalso over the position taken by Winthrop ; and more \nyet at the warmth with which he had maintained it. \nFor the last, when the debate was renewed, he made \nan ample apology. He then went on to state at con- \nsiderable length his views upon certain \" words and \nphrases, which were of human invention, and tended \nto doubtfid disputation rather than to edification.\" \nWhen he had finished, a profound silence seems to \nhave pervaded the grave, well-ordered assembly. No \none rose to reply to him, or to continue the discus- \nsion ; and here the whole matter was allowed to drop. \nNo factious spirit was shown. According to the rule \nof the Boston church, it was sufficient that grave \nopposition had been expressed. The selection of \nWheelwright was urged no further. \n\nBut Wheelwright was too active and able a man to \nremain long without a call, and a large and very in- \nfluential portion of the Boston church was in close \nsympathy with him. Among these were Codding-ton, \nHutchinson, Hough and others, who held the large \nallotments, which have been referred to, at the Mount. \nThose dwelling in that region, though few in number, \nhad for some time been complaining of the hardships \ntheir remote and isolated position imposed upon them. \nThey were mainly poor men with families. Ten or \ntwelve miles from the meeting-house, this distance \nthey had to traverse each Sabbath, or else fail to j^ar- \nticipate in worship. Accordingly the gathering of a \nnew church at the Mount had been for some time \nunder discussion. The chief objection was that such \n\n\n416 A QUARREL IN A VESTRY. 1636. \n\naction would apparently defeat the very end for which \nBoston had received \" enlargement,\" — the upholding \nof the town and the original church, — for the loss of \nso many leading members of both, as would move \naway if a new society was gathered, could not but be \nseverely felt. To meet this objection it had been ar- \nranged in the September previous that those dwelling \nat the Mount should pay a yearly town and church \nrate to Boston of sixpence an acre for such lands as \nlay within a mile of the water, and threepence an acre \nfor such as lay inland. It was a species of non-resi- \ndent commutation tax. This arrangement imposed in \nturn on the Boston church a well-understood obliga- \ntion to make adequate provision for the spiritual well- \nfare of those thus tributary to it. In the days of \nsparse settlement the situation could not but occur, \nand the natural way of meeting it was to establish \nbranch churches, or \" chappels of ease,\" as they were \ntermed in the English church, for the accommodation \nof the outlying precincts.^ Some elder, or gifted \nbrother, was wont to hold forth, or to prophesy, as it \nwas phrased, at these each ordinary Sabbath, while \nthe sacrament was administered at stated periods in \nthe mother church. \n\nAs soon as Winthrop's dissent had put a final stop \nto the plan of choosing Wheelwright associate teacher, \nthe friends of the latter from the Mount had recourse \nto this plan. At the very meeting at which Win- \nthrop insisted on his objection, the records of the \nFirst Church show that '' Our brother, Mr. John \nWheelwright, was granted unto for the preparing for \na church gathering at Mount WooUystone, upon a \npetition from some of them that were resident there.\" \n1 ni. Mass. Hist. Coll. iii. 75. \n\n\n1036. \" THE CHAPEL OF EASE.\" 417 \n\nThis vote was passed on the 30th of October. On \nthe 20th of February following, an allotment of two \nhundred and fifty acres of land at the Mount was \nmade to the new pastor, to be located \" where may be \nmost convenient, without prejudice to setting up a \ntowne there.\" Wheelwright seems to have ministered \nfaithfully and acceptably to those settled immediately \nbeyond the Neponset, during a period of almost ex- \nactly one year. \n\nChosen to his ministry, if such it might be called, \nin what are now the earlier days of November, the \nnew pastor may, during the winter's inclemency, have \nministered at the homes of his little congregation, and \nthe following spring and summer preached \"abroad \nunder a tree,\" like Phillips and Wilson at Charles- \ntown seven years before ; but in all probability during \nthe succeeding summer of 1637, for John Wheel- \nwright and under his supervision, the rude meeting- \nhouse was built, which afterwards stood for years in \nBraintree \" over the old Bridge \" and just south of it, \non the rising ground where the road, or trail rather \nas it then was, between Boston and Plymouth crossed \nthe little streamlet subsequently known as the town \nbrook.^ \n\n^ Wilson, 250fA Commemorative Services, 26, 41 ; Braintree Becords, \n2, 9 ; Pattee, Old Braintree and Quincy, 228 ; Lunt, 200th Anniversary \nDiscourses, 121-2 ; Adams, Address in Braintree (1S53), 74. \n\n\nCHAPTER IV. \n\nA PROVINCE IN A TURMOIL. \n\nThe settlement of Wheelwright at the Mount did \nnot serve to restore theological tranquillity either to \nthe Boston church or to the province. On the con- \ntrary, the action of the ministers at their October con- \nference, and the sympathy they had then shown for \ntheir brother Wilson, only stimulated Mrs. Hutchinson. \nHer tongue was more active than ever, and her fol- \nlowers more noisily aggressive. So far from being \noverawed by authority, she met authority with what \nsounded very like defiance ; for now she declared that \nhis brethren were no better than Wilson. None of \nthem were sealed ; none of them were able ministers \nof the New Testament. They, as well as he, were all \nunder a Covenant of Works ; they were Legalists, to \na man. \n\nDuring the month of November, 1636, a long con- \ntroversy was carried on between Vane and Winthrop, \narising out of the discussion at the time of Wheel- \nwright's proposed appointment. Vane, it has been \nseen, went with Mrs. Hutchinson the full length of \nmaintaining \" a personal union with the Holy Ghost.\" \nHe was not content with Cotton's belief in \"' the in- \ndwelling of the person of the Holy Ghost in a be- \nliever.\" He was apparently disposed to contend that \na believer, truly justified, was himself the Holy Ghost. \nThe discussion turned on a metaphysical abstraction, \n\n\n1636. A TEARFUL MAGISTRATE. 419 \n\nwhich the disputants sought to solve by quoting at \neach other the English rendering of Hebrew or Greek \ntexts, and scraps of Patristic learning. Conducted \nin writing \" for the peace sake of the church, which \nall were tender of,\" it covered the first \" three hun- \ndred years after Christ \" and was, of necessity, abso- \nlutely sterile. Both parties to it agreed that the \nHoly Ghost was God, and that it dwelt in believers ; \nbut in what way nowhere appeared, \" seeing the Scrip- \nture doth not declare it.\" Winthrop, therefore, ear- \nnestly entreated Vane that in the phrase \" indwelling \nof the person of the Holy Ghost \" the \" word ' person' \nmight be forborn, being a term of human invention \nand tending to doubtful disputation in this case.\" \n\nAs the rumors of this controversy, and of Vane's \nardent support of the new opinions, spread through \nthe province, Winthrop's popularity underwent a sud- \nden revival. He was recognized as the champion of \nthe old theocracy, the defender of the true faith, the \nclergy and the ancient order of things. His too great \nleniency was forgotten. He was the opponent of \nVane ; he alone in Boston had been faithful found \namong the faithless many. Vane, on the other hand, \nwas rapidly getting his first lesson in realities, and he \ndid not relish it. From being the umpire in all dis- \nputes, — the blessed peacemaker, — he was now, every- \nwhere outside of Boston, looked at askance, as the \ngreat sower of the seeds of dissension in God's vine- \nyard. The most scandalous motives were freely im- \nputed to him ; these troubles were all to promote his \nselfish ends. Conscious of the purest purpose only, \nyoung Sir Harry was of a sensitive nature, easily \nwrought upon. He probably felt his intellectual su- \nperiority to those about him ; he knew that his views \n\n\n420 A PROVINCE IN A TURMOIL. Dec. \n\nwere broader than theirs, that he had a larger and \nfirmer grasp of principle. But, after all, a callow \nyouth, he had yet to learn how to bear up successfully \nagainst the hard, practical tests to which, fortunately, \nday-dreams of human progress are wont to be sub- \njected. His nerves, therefore, soon comj^letely got the \nbetter of his judgment ; and in December, receiving \nletters from England, he informed his brother magis- \ntrates that his immediate return was necessary. At \nonce the General Court was called together to arrange \nfor his departure. \n\nThe magistrates and deputies being assembled at \nBoston, on the ^ of December, the Governor made \nknown his intentions. The nature of the urgent de- \nmands upon him from England were not publicly \nstated, but certain of the magistrates to whom the let- \nters had been shown agreed that they were impera- \ntive, \" though not fit to be imparted to the whole \ncourt.\" Accordingly the members of the Court, after \nlooking at one another for some time in grave per- \nplexity, decided to hold the matter under advisement \novernight ; and so adjourned. When they met the \nnext morning, one of the magistrates rose and made \na speech expressive of the deep regret felt by all at \nlosing such a governor in a time of so great peril, re- \nferring more particularly to the Pequot troubles then \nimpending. This either proved too much for the ex- \ncitable and overwrought Vane, or it afforded him the \nopportunity for which he was waiting. Suddenly, \nbursting into a flood of tears before the astonished \nassembly, he blurted out the true facts in the case, \ndeclaring that the causes assigned for his departure \nwere not the real causes, — that even though they in- \nvolved his whole worldly ruin, they would not have \n\n\n1636. ''AN OBEDIENT CHILD:* 421 \n\ninduced him then to depart, if it were not for the \nwicked accusations advanced against him, as if he \nwere the cause of the dissensions and differences \nwhich rent the colony, and which he feared must soon \nbring down a judgment of God upon them all. This \nsingular confession naturally changed the aspect of \nthe case. Urgent private business in England might \nafford a governor sufficient reason for vacating his \noffice ; a conviction on his part of impending public \ndisaster was wholly another thing. Accordingly, \nwhen Vane had calmed himself and wiped away his \ntears, the deputies very properly said that if such \nwere his reasons for going, they did not feel bound to \ngive their assent. Vane then went on to protest that \nwhat had escaped from him during his recent outburst \nhad been dictated rather by feeling than judgment, — \nthat the private reasons contained in his letters seemed \nto him imperative, and that he must insist upon re- \nceiving leave to depart. \n\nThere can be little question that a large majority \nof the Court were quite willing events should take \nthis course, and, indeed, would have been only too \nglad to be thus rid of their too impressionable gov- \nernor. Accordingly a general and respectful silence \nindicated that assent which it would have been awk- \nward, at least, formally to announce. After some fur- \nther debate it was then decided to choose a new gov- \nernor in Vane's place, instead of having the deputy \nsucceed him, and that day week was fixed for holding \nthe court of elections. The matter seemed to be dis- \nposed of, and the way was open for the conservatives \nquietly to resume political control. AVinthrop was to \nreplace Vane. \n\nThis arrangement wholly failed to meet the views \n\n\n422 A PROVINCE IN A TURMOIL. Dec. \n\nof the friends of Mrs. Hutchinson. No sooner, there- \nfore, were the tidings generally known in Boston, \nthan the town was alive with excitement. A meeting \nof certain of the more prominent among the church- \nmembers was at once held, and it was decided that \nVane must not be permitted to go, — that they did \nnot apprehend the necessity of his departure upon the \nreasons alleged ; and a committee was appointed to \nwait upon the Court, and present this view of the \ncase. Whereupon Vane, whether quietly or with \nmore tears and passion does not appear, \" expressed \nhimself to be an obedient child to the church, and \ntherefore, notwithstanding the license of the court, \nyet, without the leave of the church, he durst not go \naway.\" But the fact would seem to be, that Vane's \nsomewhat transparent cmqy de theatre failed. The \ndeputies evinced an unanticipated readiness to take \nhim at his word ; and so his friends of the church had \nto help him out of an awkward predicament. \n\nWhen the day fixed for the new election came, it \nwas merely voted not to proceed, and the election was \ndeferred until the regular time in May. Meanwhile \nVane's troubles were by no means lessened by his va- \ncillating and puerile course. The clergy whom he had \noffended might be narrow-minded bigots ; but they \nwere none the less men, stern and determined. A \nnumber of them had come to Boston, at the time the \nnew election was to have taken place, to advise with \nWinthrop and their other friends in the Court as to \nwhat course should now be pursued to put an end to \nthe dissensions. They were especially anxious to win \nCotton over from the Opinionists, as the followers of \nMrs. Hutchinson were called. They were anxious to \nwin him over for two reasons : not only was he the \n\n\n1636. ^'PEREMPTORY CONCLUSIONS:' 423 \n\nmost eminent man of their order, and as such re- \nspected and even revered by them all, but his great \nname and authority were a tower of strength to their \nopponents, making their cause respectable and shield- \ning it from attack. So Weld, Peters and the rest \nnow drew up under specific heads the points on which \nit was understood Cotton differed from them, and sub- \nmitted the paper to him, asking for a direct answer \nof assent or dissent on every point. Cotton took the \npaper and promised a speedy reply. \n\nWhen Vane heard of this meeting he was deeply \noffended, for it had been held without his knowledge. \nA day or two later the ministers and the Court met \nto consider the situation. The Governor of course \npresided, and opened the proceedings by stating in a \ngeneral way why they were there gathered. Then \nDudley and others, after the usual practice, exhorted \nall to speak freely ; whereupon Yane pointedly re- \nmarked, from his place at the head of the table, that, \nfor his part, he would be content to do so, but \"that he \nunderstood the ministers were already settling matters \nin private and in a church way, among themselves. \nThen another scene took place. Hugh Peters stood \nup and proceeded sternly to rebuke the Governor. \nIn language of the utmost plainness he told Vane that, \nwith all due reverence, it \" sadded the ministers' spir- \nits \" to see him jealous of their meetings, or apparently \nseeking to restrain their liberty. As the loud-voiced \nfanatic began to warm in his exhortation, the unfor- \ntunate young Governor realized the mistake he had \nmade and tried to avert the gathering tempest ; he \nexplained that he had spoken unadvisedly and under \na mistake. Peters could not thus be stopped, and \nwhat ensued was intensely characteristic of the Pres- \n\n\n424 A PROVINCE IN A TURMOIL. Dec. \n\nbyterian and Puritan times. It vividly recalls to mind \nthose parallel scenes, which only a few years before had \nbeen so common between the ministers of the Scottish \nKirk and the son of Mary Stuart, when they were \nwont to scold him from their pulpits, and bid him \" to \nhis knees;\" so that once when — as Vane had now \ndone — James complained of some meeting of theirs as \nbeing without warrant, \" Mr. Andrew Melville could \nnot abide it, but broke off upon the King in so zeal- \nous, powerful and unresistible a manner that, howbeit \nthe King used his authority in most crabbed and \ncholeric manner, yet Mr. Andrew bore him down, \nand uttered the commission as from the mighty God, \ncalling the King but ' God's silly vassal ; ' \" and, \ntaking him by the sleeve, told him that there were \n\" two kings and two kingdoms in Scotland. There \nis Christ Jesus the King, and his kingdom the kirk, \nwhose subject James the Sixth is, and of whose king- \ndom not a king, nor a lord, nor a head, but a mem- \nber.\" • And all this he had said to him \" divers times \nbefore.\" So now in New England, Hugh Peters — \nspeaking, it may safely be assumed, after his wont, \nwith much vehemency — plainly told Governor Vane \nthat until he came, less than two years before, the \nnow troubled churches were at peace. Again the \nGovernor broke in with the text that the light of the \ngospel brings a sword. In reply Peters besought \nhim \" humbly to consider his youth and short experi- \nence in the things of God, and to beware of peremp \ntory conclusions, which he perceived him to be very \napt unto.\" Then the Salem minister launched into \na long discourse on the causes of the new opinions \nand divisions, leaving the discomforted chief magis- \n\n\n1636. \"^ VERY SAD SPEECH:* 425 \n\ntrate of Massachusetts to meditate on the consequences \nof juvenile indiscretion.^ \n\nLater in the proceedings Wilson rose and seems to \nhave relieved his feelings by what Winthrop describes \nas \" a very sad speech.\" It would appear indeed to \nhave been a veritable jeremiad. The pastor of the \nchurch of Boston deplored the condition of things, \nand predicted the disintegration of the settlement \nunless existing troubles were speedily settled. He \ntouched upon doctrinal points, and took direct issue \nwith Cotton, who only that very day had, in a sermon \nbefore the Court, laid down the principle that \" sanc- \ntification was an evidence of justification.\" Wilson \nnow denied this, — though apparently the metaphysi- \ncal issues involved became at this point too subtle to \nbe grasped by Winthrop, who alone has given an \naccount of the debate ; and it is obvious that in this \nregard the ordained theological combatants were quite \nas much in the dark as those of the laity who strove \nto follow them. While one learned divine asserted \na thesis beyond human intelligence to comprehend, \nanother denied it ; and the lay members of the con- \ngregation listened, and tried to look wise over the \nspiritual issues involved. As to the practical issues, \nno illumination was needed and, in regard to them, \nall were sufficiently in earnest ; for, when it came \nto trouble in the churches, Mr. Wilson had ground \nto stand upon. That did exist ; especially, as his \nlisteners knew, in his own church. And he attributed \nit all to the \" new opinions risen up amongst us.\" \nAt the conclusion of this diatribe, which evidently \n\n^ Subsequently in England, during the time of the Commmon- \nwealth, Vane and Peters would seem to have sustained very friendly \nrelations towards each other. (Yonge, Life of Peters, 5.) \n\n\n426 A PROVINCE IN A TURMOIL. Dec. \n\ncalled forth marks of decided approval from the au- \ndience, some expression of opinion was taken, and it \nwas found that all the magistrates excepting Vane, \nCoddington and Hough, and all the ministers except- \ning Cotton and Wheelwright, were in sympathy with \nthe Boston pastor. \n\nIn the way of conferences this month of December, \n1636, was a busy time in Boston. Not content with \ndealing first with Cotton and then with Vane, the visit- \ning clergy appear to have gone to the fountain-head of \nthe trouble, seeking an exchange of views with Mrs. \nHutchinson herself.^ She was nothing loath, and the \noccasion could not have been otherwise than edifying \nin the extreme. Being summoned to the place where \nthe ministers were already met, she there found Wil- \nson, Peters, Weld and others of those opposed to her; \nand of her friends. Cotton, Wheelwright, Leverett \n(the elder of the Boston church) and a few more. \nPeters acted as spokesman for the ministers, while \nWilson busied himself with taking notes. Address- \ning Mrs. Hutchinson \" with much vehemency and in- \ntreaty,\" Peters urged her, as the source from which all \ndifference had arisen, to explain why she conceived \nthat he and his brethren were different from Cotton \n\n1 This must have been the time of the meeting-, though the date of \nit nowhere appears. Peters, however, in his evidence, says : — \" We \ndid address ourselves to the teacher of the church [Cotton] and the \ncourt then assembled . . . our desire to the teacher was to tell us \n■wherein the difference lay between him and us. . . . He said that he \nthoug-ht it not according to God to commend this to the magis- \ntrates, but to take some other course, and so . . . we thoug-ht it g-ood \nto send for this gentlewoman.\" (Hutchinson, ii. 490.) Here is a very \ndistinct reference to the conference between his brother ministers and \nCotton, which took place, as appears in the text, on December M or \n^§, 1636, and was followed immediately by the interview, described at \nthe trial, between them and Mrs. Hutchinson. \n\n\n1636. \"/I DOUBLE SEAL.\" 427 \n\nin their ministry, and why she so openly asserted that \nthey taught a Covenant of Works. At first Mrs. \nHutchinson would seem, as well she might, to have \nbeen somewhat appalled at the presence in which she \nfound herself, and the directness of her arraignment. \nShe was even disposed to deny what was charged. \nBut, when they offered proof, she presently recovered \nher courage, and even assumed her role of prophetess, \nexclaiming, — \" The fear of man is a snare ; why \nshould I be afraid ? \" Then, in reply to Peters' ques- \ntions, she asserted that there was indeed a wide and \nbroad difference between Cotton and the others, that \nhe preached a Covenant of Grace, and they a Cove- \nnant of Works ; and, moreover, that they could not \npreach a Covenant of Grace, because they were not \nsealed, and were no more able ministers of the gos- \npel than were the disciples before the resurrection of \nChrist. Cotton, in whose presence all this was said, \nfound his position becoming uncomfortable, and ac- \ncordingly broke in, objecting to the comparison. But \nshe insisted upon it. Then she instanced Shepard of \nCambridge and Weld of Roxbury, as neither of them \npreaching a Covenant of Grace clearly. The former, \nshe said, w^as not sealed. \" Why do you say that ? \" \nhe asked. \" Because,\" she replied, \" you put love for \nan evidence.\" Presently Mr. Phillips of Watertown, \nobserving how reckless her criticisms were, and bethink- \ning himself that she had never heard him preach, \nasked her in what his ministry differed from that of \nCotton. She apparently asserted that he too was not \nsealed. As Peters afterwards remarked : — \" There \nwas a double seal found out that day,\" — a broad seal \nand a little seal, — \" which never was.\" Then the dis- \ncussion seems to have run off into the unintellisfible j \n\n\n428 A PROVINCE IN A TURMOIL. Feb. \n\nand, when at last they parted, all were not quite clear \nwhether what had taken place tended, as a whole, to \nallay exasperation or to increase it. \n\nBut no such doubt rested on Wilson's speech before \nthe General Court. That had amounted to nothing \nless than an angry arraignment of almost the whole \nbody of his own people, including both Cotton and \nVane. It excited, therefore, great anger among them, \nand at once the contest was transferred back from the \nGeneral Court to the Boston church. It was there \nproposed to admonish him. Again Winthrop came \nto his defence, claiming that, whatever the pastor \nmight have said before the Court, it was general in \nits application, and of a privileged nature. When \ncalled upon to explain what he meant by his state- \nments, and to name those he referred to in them, Wil- \nson did not appear well. He equivocated, in fact, \nmost barefacedly, professing that he had not intended \nto reflect on the Boston church or its members, any \nmore than upon others. Every one who listened to \nhim knew that this was not so. Vane and Mrs. \nHutchinson were members of his church. It was \nthey to whom he had referred ; and what he now said \nwas not true. \n\nIt was at last determined to proceed against him \npublicly, and on Tuesday, the ^ of ^^, the Boston \npastor was arraigned before his flock and in his own \nmeeting-house. Vane led the attack ; and, after his \nnature at that time, he did it violently. Then the \nwhole congregation followed, pouring bitter and re- \nproachful words upon their minister's head. Win- \nthrop and one or two others alone said anything in \nthe pastor's behalf, and in his journal Winthrop re- \nmarked that \" it was strange to see how the common \n\n\n1637. A PASTOR ADMONISHED. 429 \n\npeople were led by example to condemn him in that \nwhich, it was very probable, divers of them did not \nunderstand, nor the rule which he was supposed to \nhave broken ; and that such as had known him so long, \nand what good he had done for the church, should fall \nupon Hm with such bitterness for justifying himself in \na good cause.\" Wilson bore the ordeal meekly, an- \nswering as best he could, but to little purpose. The \ngreat majority were in favor of immediately passing a \nvote of censure. Throughout Cotton had sympathized \nwith the church, expressing himself with a good deal \nof feeling ; but he had not failed to preserve a cer- \ntain judgment and moderation. He now intervened, \nsaying that he could not at that time proceed to \ncensure, as the usage of the Boston church required \nunanimity, and some were opposed to it ; nevertheless \nhe did administer a grave exhortation. That the \nteacher should thus rebuke the pastor, in the presence \nof the whole congregation, was probably a thing un- \nexampled, and a picture at once suggests itself, of a \nvenerable man standing up, with white hair uncovered \nbefore his people, to be reprimanded by his junior. It \nis, therefore, well to bear in mind that the facts were \nquite otherwise. Though Wilson was pastor and Cot- \nton teacher, the former was a man not yet fifty, and \nwith a large share of health and vigor ; while the lat- \nter was not only several years the older of the two, \nbut recognized by all as much the more eminent. \nNevertheless, the proceeding was outrageous and un- \njustifiable. Deeply mortified as he must have been, \nWilson bore himself with manly dignity. He took \nhis scolding before his flock in silence, and, going \nquietly on in his duties, he bided his time. And his \ntime came. \n\n\n430 A PROVINCE IN A TURMOIL. Feb. \n\nThroughout the next forty days the storm contin- \nued to rage with ever-increasing violence. Winthrop \nand Cotton engaged in a written controversy over the \nproceedings in Wilson's case, which correspondence \nWinthrop says was loving and gentle, though in it he \n\" dealt very plainly \" with the teacher. A whole brood \nof new heresies was meanwhile currently alleged to \nbe cropping out in Boston. It was even asserted that \nsuch opinions were publicly expressed, \"as that the \nHoly Ghost dwelt in a believer as he is in heaven ; \nthat a man is justified before he believes ; and that \nfaith is no cause for justification.\" That heresies \nsuch as these should be tolerated in any well-ordered \nChristian community was looked upon by the body of \nthe clerg}^ as wholly out of the question. After due \nconsultation among themselves, therefore, they deter- \nmined to labor with Cotton once more. He himself \nafterwards asserted that, through all these times, Mrs. \nHutchinson seldom resorted to him, and was never in \nVane's confidence or in his. Indeed, he added, prob- \nably with a good deal of insight into the w^oman's \ncharacter, even when Mistress Hutchinson \" did come \nto me, it was seldom or never, that I can tell of, that \nshe tarried long. I rather think she was loath to re- \nsort much to me, or to confer long with me, lest she \nmight seem to learn somewhat from me.\" ^ But the \ngeneral report was otherwise ; and so his brethren \ndrew up another schedule of differences, this time \nunder sixteen heads : — \n\nThis they \" gave to him, entreating him to deliver his \njudgment directly [on the sixteen points ;] which accordingly \nhe did, and many copies thereof were dispersed about. \nSome doubts he well cleared, but in some things he gave \n\n1 Way Cleared, 88. \n\n\n1637. A SCHEDULE OF DIFFERENCES. 431 \n\nnot satisfaction. The rest of the ministers replied to these \nanswers, and at large showed their dissent, and the grounds \nthereof ; and, at the next General Court, held 9th of the \n1st, they all assembled at Boston, and agreed to put off all \nlectures for three weeks, that they might bring things to \nsome issue.\" \n\n\nCHAPTER V. \n\nTHE FAST-DAY SEKMON. \n\nSuch was the condition of affairs in Boston and \nin the province of Massachusetts when the year 1637 \nopened. \"Every occasion,\" says Winthrop, \"in- \ncreased the contention, and caused great alienation of \nminds ; and the members of Boston [church] , fre- \nquenting the lectures of other ministers, did make \nmuch disturbance by public questions, and objections \nto their doctrines, which did any way disagree from \ntheir opinions ; and it began to be as common here to \ndistinguish between men, by being under a Covenant \nof Grace or a Covenant of Works, as in other coun- \ntries between Protestants and Papists.\" \n\nFrom the depths of one of the now forgotten con- \ntroversies in which Luther was a chief participant, \nthe Orthodox faction had exhumed a term of oppro- \nbrium to be applied to their opponents ; for then to \nsay that a man was an Antinomian or an Anabaptist \nwas even more offensive and injurious than it would \nbe in the present day to speak of him as a communist \nor a free-lover. It was merely another way of calling \nhim a lawless libertine or a ferocious revolutionist. \nIt would be mere waste of space to go into the history \nof a relio'ious sect which seems to have existed from \nthe earliest days of the Christian era ; suffice it to say \nthat the name Antinomian was coined by Luther and \napplied to the adherents of John Agricola. It meant, \n\n\n1637. THE ANTINOMIAN. 433 \n\nas its derivation implies, that those designated by it \nset themselves against and above law and denied its \nrestricting force, — though law, it should be added, \nmeant in the religious disputations of the days of \nLuther the Mosaic code as revealed in the Old Testa- \nment, and more especially set forth in the decalogue. \nIn other words, Antinomianism was merely another \nphase of the same old dispute over the one true and \nonly path to salvation. The idea of the arraignment \nat the bar of final judgment, universally accepted in \nthose days and that community, has already been \nalluded to. It was in no way vague, remote or mys- \ntical as it has now become. The doctrine that a pure, \nstraightforward, conscientious performance of duty in \nthis life is the best preparation for the life to come, \nwhich, under these conditions, may safely be left to \ntake care of itseK, — this modern doctrine of justi- \nfication and salvation had then no vogue. On the \ncontrary the judgment seat was a sternly realistic, \nmatter-of-fact tribunal, fashioned on human models, \nbut never absent from thought, — a living, abiding \nterror. It was, in the minds of the men and women \nwho then lived, just as much an ordeal to be looked \nforward to and be prepared for as, with certain classes, \nthe admission to an academy or college or a profes- \nsion is looked forward to and prepared for now : only, \nin the former case the question at issue was all-impor- \ntant, and the decision was one from which there was \nno appeal ; for behind the judgment seat were the \ngates of Heaven and Hell, — life everlasting or end- \nless torments. As already has been said, — What plea \nin justification would be accepted at that tribunal ? — \nThe Church of Rome preached the doctrine of works, \n— obedience to the law as expounded by authority, \n\n\n434 THE FAST-DAY SERMON. 1637. \n\nobservance of ceremonies, conformity in life : — the \nLutheran, on the other hand, abjuring all forms and \nceremonials, put his trust in faith, implicit and unques- \ntioning, and in divine grace. \n\nSo far all was simple. The issue was easy to com- \nprehend. But the revealed Word now presented it- \nself, and to it the pitiless logic of Calvin was applied. \nThe biblical dogmas of creation, original sin and re- \ndemption through God's grace had to be brought into \nsome accordance with the actualities of this life and \nthe revelation as to the life to come ; omnipotence, \nomniscience, prevision and predestination were to be \naccepted and disposed of. Logic gave way under the \nstrain, and human reason sought refuge in the incon- \nceivable. What was right and good and just among \nmen was, necessarily, neither just nor good nor right \nwith God. He was a law unto himself. \n\nThen followed the dogma of the elect. As pre- \nscience was a necessary, and so admitted, attribute of \nthe omnipotent God, everything was ordained in ad- \nvance, and consequently all men were predestined \nfrom the beginning, — many would be lost, a few \nwould be saved ; — but, whether lost or saved, the de- \ncision had been reached from the beginning and could \nin no way be influenced. It is difficult to see how \nwhat was called Antinomianism did not follow of \nnecessity from these premises. The elect were su- \nperior to the restraints of law ; and this Luther dis- \ntinctly asserted. Antinomianism was therefore the \nref uo^e of the libertine : — if he was destined to be \nsaved, he would be saved, all possible misdeeds to the \ncontrary notwithstanding; if he was doomed to be \nlost, the rectitude of a life of restraint would avail \nhim nothing. \n\n\n1637. THE ''ODIUM THEOLOGICUM.\" 435 \n\nAs applied to Anne Hutchinson, Henry Vane and \nJohn Wheelwright the term Antinomian was, there- \nfore, an intentional misnomer.^ About them there \nwas no trace of license, no suggestion of immorality \nor hypocrisy ; nor, it must be added, was there any \ndisposition to protestantism, or even increased liber- \nality in religion. They accepted both law and gospel. \nThey denied none of the tenets of Calvin. They \nmerely undertook to graft upon the stern, human \nlogic of those tenets certain most illogical, spiritual \noffshoots of their own. In other words, they also, \nlike their teacher and prototype the transcendentalists \nof that earlier day, were in their own estimation the \nelect of God. Conscious of the indwelling of the \nHoly Ghost, they, and they only, could look forward \nwith confidence to the inevitable time when, standing \nbefore the judgment seat, they should plead in justi- \nfication the Covenant of Grace. \n\nSuch was New England Antinomianism and such \nwas the spiritual issue the Antinomian presented, — \nan issue harmless enough in our days, though not so \nwholly devoid of harm then ; an issue not easy now \nto comprehend, nor calculated to excite a feeling of \nsympathy. Ordinarily it would be dismissed as merely \none more phase of religious exaltation. But in the \ncase of Anne Hutchinson and her following, with the \nspiritual was combined a political issue, and with both \nyet other issues, social, parochial and individual, until \ntogether they made up a drama in which almost no \nelement was wanting. The theological struggle was \n\n1 In his Fast-day sermon, now to be referred to, Wheelwright ex- \npressly enjoined his hearers and sympathizers \" to have care that we \ngive not occasion to others to say we are libertines or Antinomians.\" \nBeU, Wheelwright, 175. \n\n\n436 THE FAST-DAY SERMON. 1637. \n\nbetween Anne Hutchinson and John Wilson, and it \nwas over Cotton ; the political struggle was between \nVane and Winthrop. Cotton, both factions hoped \nto secure. That he now sympathized with those who \npreached the new Covenant of Grace, or the Anti- \nnoinians as their opponents designated them, was ap- \nparent ; but his brother ministers looked upon him as \na very precious brand which it might yet be given \nunto them to snatch from the burning. Anne Hutch- \ninson, with whom the church-people of Boston were \nliterally infatuated, outside of Boston was regarded \nwith hate, — and a hate not of the mere conventional \nkind, but of that exquisitely rancorous description \nwhich has been set apart by itself and regularly classi- \nfied as the odium theologicum. Though Wheelwright \nhad moved to Mount Wollaston, and for several weeks \nbeen ministering to the scattered farmers thereabouts, \nhis position in the controversy was well understood. \nToo sensible and cool-headed to go the whole length \nMrs. Hutchinson went, he did not believe in her misty \ntranscendental revelations ; but, as regards the dog- \nmas of sanctification and the personal presence of the \nHoly Ghost in the true believer, he stood in advance \nprobably of Cotton, and by the side of Vane. None \nthe less, by classing him with Cotton, as alone being \nsealed and preaching a Covenant of Grace, his sister- \nin-law had conferred on the minister at the Mount a \ndangerous prominence. His position was not like that \nof Cotton. He did not enjoy the same reputation or \nequal authority. He did not even have a distinct set- \ntlement of his own. He rested moreover under the \nimputation of inclining to novel and questionable \ndoctrines. Everything combined, therefore, to centre \nupon Wheelwright the angry eyes of his brethren. \n\n\n1037. THE DAY OF FAST. 437 \n\nHe was the representative, the kinsman, the favored \npreacher of her whom they called the \"virago,\" the \n\" she-Gamaliel,\" the \" American Jezebel.\" She was \na woman, and her sex could not but shield her some- \nwhat. He was a man, and a contentious one ; and as \nsuch he invited assault. So over his head the clouds \nbegan to gather, black and ominous. An occasion \nfor their bursting only was needed ; and for that his \nenemies had not long; to wait. \n\nOn the ^ of January a solemn fast was held, be- \ncause of \" the miserable estate of the churches in Ger- \nmany \" and in England, the growing Pequot troubles, \nand the dissensions nearer home. Wheelwright may \nhave preached to his own people at Mount Wollaston \non the morning of that day ; but later he seems to \nhave gone to Boston, where in the afternoon he at- \ntended church services and listened to a discourse \nfrom Cotton. After Cotton had finished, Wheelwright \nwas called upon \" to exercise as a private brother ; \" \nand he improved the occasion by delivering his famous \nsermon.^ There is strong presumptive evidence that, \neven on this day of penitential humiliation, certain of \nGod's unworthy prophets were cunningly lying in wait \none for another; for, as he held forth, some one \namong those who listened to him was rapidly taking \ndown a verbatim report of all that he uttered. \n\nOnce hostilities are decided upon, a pretext for open \nwar is never far to seek. In itseK there was assuredly \nnothing in that Fast-day sermon which would have \nattracted any general public notice. It had a very \ndirect bearing on things then exercising the public \nmind ; but this is usual in occasional discourses. As \na matter of taste, so sharp an arraignment of those \n\n1 Bell, Wheelwright, 13, 15, notes 21 and 25. \n\n\n438 THE FAST-DAY SERMON. Jan. \n\nwalking in a Covenant of Works was at that time \ndecidedly out of place, especially when preached from \nMr. Wilson's pulpit. Though the congregation, with \nless than half a dozen exceptions, entirely sympathized \nin it, yet they all knew, and Mr. Wilson knew, that \nhe, the minister of the church, was receiving an ex- \nhortation. It was this apparently which gave the \naffair what zest it had. In fact the whole thing would \nseem to have been arranged beforehand between Mrs. \nHutchinson and Wheelwright. It bore on its face \ntraits highly suggestive of her handiwork. The Lord, \nit was seen, might be made to deliver Wilson into the \nhands of his enemies on the Fast-day ; and so Wheel- \nwright stood ready to smite, and spare not. \n\nIn common with most writers of his time, and es- \npecially theological writers, Wheelwright was always \ninvolved and obscure in expression. How, in fact? \nthe congregations of those days understood and fol- \nlowed the pulpit utterances is incomprehensible now. \nPossibly there was an inspiration of fanaticism then \nabout, which has since passed away ; but, more prob- \nably, much that was said was not taken in at all, and \nreligious fervor supplied the place of comprehension. \nThe Fast-day sermon is no better calculated for easy \ncomprehension by an audience, or for that matter by \na reader even, than are the other productions of \nWheelwright's pen. Couched in that peculiar scriptu- \nral language in which the Puritan and the Covenan- \nter delighted, and of which the most familiar specimen \n— plus Arahe que V Arable — is the address of Eph- \nraim McBriar after the skirmish at Drumclog, it is, \nexcept in parts, a very dull performance ; and, if de- \nlivered to a modern congregation, would hardly excite \nin those composing it any sensations except curiosity, \n\n\n1637. A BOSTON EPHRAIM McBRIAR. 439 \n\nsoon followed by drowsiness and impatience. But, so \nfar as phraseology and the corresponding delivery of \nthe speaker are concerned, the following extracts from \nWheelwright's discourse might well have been the \noriginal which inspired the more brilliant imitation of \nScott : — \n\n\" The way we must take, if so be we will not have the \nLord Jesus Christ taken from us, is this, — We must all \nprepare for a spiritual combat, — we must put on the whole \narmor of God, and must have our loins girt and be ready to \nfight. Behold the bed that is Solomon's ; there is threescore \nvaliant men about it, — valiant men of Israel. Every one \nhath his sword in his hand and, being expert in war, hath \nhis sword girt on his thigh, because of fear in the night. If \nwe will not fight for the Lord Jesus Cln-ist, Christ may come \nto be surprised. Solomon lyeth in his bed; and there is \nsuch men about the bed of Solomon ; and they watch over \nSolomon, and will not suffer Solomon to be taken away. \nAnd who is this Solomon but the Lord Jesus Christ ; and \nwhat is the bed but the church of true believers ; and who \nare those valiant men of Israel but all the children of God ! \nThey ought to show themselves vaUant ; they should have \ntheir swords ready ; they must fight, and fight with spiritual \nweapons, for the weapons of our warfare are not carnal but \nspiritual. And, therefore, wheresoever we live, if we would \nhave the Lord Jesus Christ to be abundantly present with \nus, we must all of us prepare for battle, and come out \nagainst the enemies of the Lord ; and, if we do not strive, \nthose under a Covenant of Works will prevail. We must \nhave a special care, therefore, to show ourselves courageous. \nAll the valiant men of David and all the men of Israel, — \nBarak, and Deborah, and Jael, — all must out and fight for \nChrist. Curse ye Meroz, because they came not out to help \nthe Lord against the mighty ! — Therefore, if we will keep \nthe Lord Jesus Christ and his presence and power amongst \nus, we must figlit. . . . \n\n\n440 THE FAST-DAY SERMON. Jan. \n\n\" When Christ is thus holden forth to be all in all, — all \nin the root, all in the branch, all in all, — this is the gospel. \nThis is that fountain open for the inhabitants of Judah and \nJerusalem for sin and for uncleanness ; and this is the well, \nof which the wells under the old testament were certain \ntypes. This same well must be kept open. If the Philis- \ntines fill it with earth, with the earth of their own inven- \ntions, those that are the servants of Isaak, — true believers, \n— the servants of the Lord, — must open the wells again. \nThis is the light that holdeth forth a gi'eat light, that lighteth \nevery one that cometh into the world. And if we mean to \nkeep Christ, we must hold forth this light. \n\n\" The second action we must perform and the second way \nwe must take is, — When enemies to the truth oppose the \nways of God, we must lay hold upon them, we must kill \nthem with the Word of the Lord. The Lord hath given \ntrue believers power over the nations, and they shall break \nthem in pieces as shivered with a rod of iron. And what \nrod of iron is this but the word of the Lord ; — and such \nhonor have all his saints. The Lord hath made us as \nthreshing instruments with teeth, and we must beat the \nhnis as chaff. Therefore, in the fear of God handle the \nsword of the spirit, the word of God ; — for it is a two- \nedged sword, and this word of God cutteth men to the \nheart.\" ^ \n\n1 In his references to Wheelwrig-ht and the Fast-day discourse, Dr. \nPalfrey, in his History, evinces even more than his usual spirit of rev- \nerence for the fathers of New Eng-land, and less than his usual ac- \ncuracy. He speaks of the sermon as \" a composition of that character \n■which is common to skilful agitators. Along- with disclaimers of the \npurpose to excite to physical violence, it abounds in lang>uage suited \nto bring about that result. . . . Another art of demagogxies Wheel- \nwright perfectly understood. By exhorting his hearers to prepare \nthemselves to be martyrs, he gave them to understand that they were \nin danger of being so, and that, if they preferred not to be, they must \ntake their measures accordingly.\" (i. 479, n.) He also remarks that \n\" it was perhaps well that this sermon was delivered at Braintree, and \n\n\n1637. SKIRMISHING. 441 \n\nThough at the time of their delivery these utter- \nances do not seem to have excited any particular re- \nmark, they did soon after afford a pretext for open \nstrife between the factions into which the province \nwas divided. As the weeks passed on, it became \napparent that a struggle was to take place in the next \nGeneral Court. This met on the j^ of March, nearly \nseven weeks after the fast, and was attended by an \nadvisory council of clergymen. It has been seen that \nall lectures were then deferred for three weeks, that \n\nthat the angry men whom it stimulated did not pass Winthrop's house \nin returning- to their homes.\" \n\nThe fact is, the sermon was delivered^ not at Braintree, but in Bos- \nton, and within a stone's throw of Winthrop's house ; while there can \nbe very little doubt that Winthrop was himself among the audience \nwhich listened to it. In their anxiety to justify the subsequent pro- \nceedings of the magistrates and clergy, the New England historians \nhave imagined a condition of affairs existing- in Massachusetts in \n1635-7 which the evidence does not warrant. They have transformed \nthe self-contained little New England community into something very \nlike a French or German mob. The Wheelwright discourse neither \nled, nor was intended to lead, to any outbreak of \" angry men.\" In- \ndeed, it did not at the moment excite enough remark to cause Win- \nthrop, after listening to it, to make any mention of it in his journal. \nIt dealt in no rhetoric or figures of speech which were not usual in the \npulpit oratory of those days. \n\nThat Wheelwright was a strong-willed and ambitious divine, prone \nto controversy and eager for notoriety, is evident enough ; but the \nrecord of his earlier no less than of his later life stamps him as a \nthoroughly pure and conscientious man. Every believing controver- \nsialist is of necessity an agitator; but \"demagogues\" rarely enjoy \nconvictions for the sake of which they suffer, as did Wheelwright \nand his friends, persecution and banishment. In the Antinomian con- \ntroversy the record of Wheelwright is far more creditable to him \nthan those of Cotton and Winthrop are to them. Finally, there is no \nreason whatever to question the judgment of Mather, pronounced \nlong after the controversy had .subsided, that Wheelwright \"was a \nman of the most unspotted morals and unblemished reputation ; ' ' \nand that \" his worst enemies never looked on him as chargeable with \nthe least ill practices.\" \n\n\n442 THE FAST-DAY SERMON. March, \n\nnothing might liinder the ministers from giving their \nexclusive attention, during the sessions of the Court, \nto the one subject uppermost in the minds of all. \n\nAlthough the opponents of Mrs. Hutchinson con- \ntrolled every church, and consequently every town in \nthe province outside of Boston, yet the legislature — \nas then organized under the governorship of Vane — \nwas not unequally divided. A preliminary struggle \nbetween the two parties took place over the case of \none Stephen Greensmith, who had ventured to ex- \npress, somewhere and at some time, the opinion that \nall the ministers, with the exception of Cotton, Wheel- \nwright, \" and, as he thought, Mr. Hooker,\" were \nunder a Covenant of Works, — in other words, were \n\" whited sepulchres.\" Being adjudged guilty of this \nsweeping criticism, Greensmith was fined £40, and \nrequired to give sureties of £100 for the payment \nthereof. Who the man was, or why he was thus util- \nized for example's sake, does not appear. The Court, \nhaving in this way indicated its disapproval of the \nnew doctrines, next went on to emphasize its approval \nof the old. The proceedings of the Boston church \nagainst Wilson, because of his jeremiad before the \nDecember Court, were reviewed. Winthrop says that \nthey \" could not fasten upon such as had prejudiced \nhim,\" and would seem to imply that it was for this \nreason — because they could not be fastened upon — \nthat these persons escaped punishment with Green- \nsmith. Yet Winthrop had himself recorded how, on \nthe 31st of December at the church-meeting, \" the \ngovernor [young Harry Vane] pressed it violently \" \nagainst the pastor. The chief offender in the case \nhappened, therefore, to be the presiding officer of \nthe Court which thus failed to \" fasten upon \" him. \n\n\n1637. THE CONFLICT OPENS. 443 \n\nNevertheless the subject was discussed and evidently \nwith warmth, for the ministers were called on to ad- \nvise upon it. They took the correct ground, laying \ndown the principle that no member of a court, and \nconsequently no person by request advising a court, \ncould be publicly questioned elsewhere for anything \nsaid to it. The spirit and tenor of Wilson's speech \nwere then approved by an emphatic majority, this ac- \ntion being, of course, intended as a pointed rebuke to \nVane. \n\nSo far it was mere skirmishing. The parties were \nmeasuring strength before they grappled over the real \nissue. It had probably now been determined among \nthe ministers that Wheelwright was to be called to a \nsharp account. His position invited attack ; and his \nutterances in private, there is every reason to suppose, \nas well as in public, afforded ready pretext for it. \nHe was the man set up against Wilson, by Wilson's \nown people, in his own meeting-house. Wilson had \nthere been called to account for a speech made before \nthe Court ; and now the Court proposed to call Wheel- \nwrio-ht to like account for a sermon delivered before \nWilson's church. No sooner, therefore, had the Court \napproved of what Wilson had said in December, than \nit went on to consider what Wheelwright had said in \nJanuary. The matter of the Fast-day sermon was \nbrought up. In answer to a summons Wheelwright \npresently appeared, the notes of his discourse, taken \nat the time of its delivery, were produced, and he was \nasked if he admitted their correctness. In reply he \nlaid before the Court his own manuscript, and was \nthen dismissed. The next day he was again sum- \nmoned. \n\nLess than twenty-four hours had elapsed, but dur- \n\n\n444 THE FAST-DAY SERMON. March, \n\ning that brief space of time the Court had received a \nvery distinct intimation that the course upon which it \nseemed to be entering was not to pass unchallenged. \nIt came in the form of a petition, signed by nearly all \nthe members of the Boston church, praying that pro- \nceedings in judicial cases should be conducted pub- \nlicly, and that matters of conscience might be left for \nthe church to deal with. The Court was, in other \nwords, respectfully invited to attend to the matters \nwhich properly concerned it, and not to meddle in the \naffairs of the Boston church. This paper was at once \nordered to be returned to those from whom it came, \nwith an indorsement upon it to the effect that the \nCourt considered it presumptuous. The examination \nof Wheelwright was then proceeded with behind \nclosed doors. His sermon being produced he justified \nit, and asked to be informed of what, and by whom, \nhe was accused. He was answered that, the sermon \nbeing acknowledged by him, the Court would proceed \nex officio^ as it was termed. In other words, it would \nexamine him inquisitorially under oath. This pro- \nposal immediately called forth loud expressions of \ndisapproval from thos& of the members who were \nfriendly to the accused. Voices were heard exclaim- \ning that these were but the methods of the High \nCommission, and as such were associated in the minds \nof all with the worst measures of that persecution \nwhich had harried them and their brethren out of \nEngland. Wheelwright thereupon declined to answer \nany further questions, and the proceedings for the \nmoment came to a standstill. \n\nThe anti-clerical party in the Court now carried \ntheir point, in so far that what more was to be done \nwas ordered to be done in public. This decided, \n\n\n1637. A PARLIAMENTARY STRUGGLE. 445 \n\nWheelwright, later in the day, was again summoned. \nThe room was now thronged, nearly all the clergy of \nthe colony being among those present, and, his Fast- \nday discourse having been again produced. Wheel- \nwright proceeded to justify it, — declaring that he \nmeant to include in his animadversions \"all who \nwalked in such a way \"as he had described to be a \nCovenant of Works. The matter was then referred \nto the ministers of the other churches, who were \ncalled upon to state whether \" they in their ministry \ndid walk in such a way.\" As a method of securing \nat once evidence, and a verdict upon it, this was in- \ngenious, and worked most satisfactorily. There was \nlittle room for doubt what the answer would be, and \nwhen the Court met the next morning it was ready. \nOne and all, — Cotton only excepted, — the ministers \nreplied, they did consider they walked in such a way. \n\nThe verdict was thus rendered. But the record was \nnot to be made up without a further struggle. It yet \nremained to declare the judgment of the Court that \nWheelwright was guilty of contempt and sedition. \nThe doors were again closed, and behind them a de- \nbate which lasted two entire days was entered upon. \nNothing is known of its details, except that Winthrop \nand Yane were the leaders of the opposing forces, and \nthe result hung long in the balance. For a time it \nseemed as if the extremists would be thwarted by a \nsmall preponderance of voices ; but at last, to quote \nthe words of one most active in the struggle, \" the \npriests got two of the magistrates on their side,\" and \nso secured a majority.^ \n\nThe judgment of the Coui't was announced. But \nnot even then did Vane abandon the struggle. He \n\n1 Coddington to Fretwell; cited in Felt's Eccles. Hist. ii. 611. \n\n\n446 THE FAST-DAY SERMON. March, \n\ntendered a protest against the action just taken. This \nprotest the Court refused to spread ujDon its record, on \nthe ground that in it the proceedings were condemned \nand the convicted divine wholly justified. Another \npetition from the church of Boston was now presented, \nwhich, at a later stage of the struggle, came into sin- \nister prominence. It was a singularly well-drawn \npaper. Respectful in tone, it was simple, brief, direct \nand logical. It was, of course, an earnest protest \nagainst the action of the Court, and breathed a deep \nsympathy with the condemned ; but at the time no \nexception was taken to its tone. It seems to have \nbeen received as a matter of course, and was placed \nupon the files of the Court. To it were appended \nabove threescore names. \n\nThe conservatives had carried their point. None \nthe less, the struggle had been so severe, the re- \nsistance at every point so obstinate and the majorities \nso small, that the victors were not in a position to \nfollow up their success. Accordingly the sentence \nupon Wheelwright was deferred to the next General \nCourt, before which he was ordered to appear. So \nfar as he was concerned, therefore, it only remained \nto decide whether he should, during the interim, be \nsilenced as a preacher. This, also, being a question \nof church discipline, the magistrates referred to the \nministers for their advice ; and they naturally hesi- \ntated to have recourse to a proceeding so irresistibly \nsuggestive of bitter English memories. Though angry \nand bigoted, they were honest ; and they could not at \nonce, even with Hugh Peters and Thomas Weld as \ntheir leaders, introduce into this, their place of refuge \nfrom Laud's pursuivants, the most odious features of \nLaud's ecclesiastical machinery. Weld himself, in- \n\n\n1637. '^ THAT LION!'' 447 \n\ndeed, had good cause to know what it was to be si- \nlenced. Six years before, in company with Thomas \nShepard who now again sat by his side, he had stood \nbefore the hated Archbishop, even as Wheelwright \nnow stood before them. With what face could they \nnow measure out to him as \" that lion \" had then \nmeted out to them? Accordingly the magistrates \nwere advised not to silence Wheelwright, but to com- \nmend his case to the church of Boston, to be dealt \nwith spiritually. In view of the remonstrance from \nmembers of that church which had just been pre- \nsented, this course certainly was a forbearing one. It \nopened a door to conciliation. \n\nAs was the custom, the sessions of the Court had \nbeen held in Boston. But Boston swarmed like an \nangry ant-hill with the adherents of those who pro- \nfessed the Covenant of Grace. The influence of an \nintense local, though outside, public opinion, all set- \nting strongly one way, had made itself unmistakably \nfelt throughout the recent stormy sittings, and had \ngreatly modified the conclusions arrived at by the \ndeputies. Action taken behind closed doors had been \nmet within a few hours by earnest protests over long \nlists of well-known names. The conservative party, \nthough in the majority, was none the less the opposi- \ntion, so long as Vane remained governor. Naturally, \ntherefore, those composing it felt anxious to have aU \nfurther operations conducted amid less uncongenial \nsurroundings. If it was necessary to proceed to ex- \ntremities, it would be expedient, at least, to secure \nthe removal of the seat of government from Boston \nto some other place, at any rate for a time. Accord- \ningly, when all other business was disposed of, the \nfinal move of that session on the part of the con- \n\n\n448 THE FAST-DAY SERMON. March, \n\nservatives was made in the form of a proposition that \nthe next General Court shonkl meet at Cambridge, \nor Newetowne as it was then called. \n\nThough the suggestion was unprecedented, it was \nby no means unjustifiable. It was fairly open to \nquestion whether, under the circumstances of intense \nexcitement then prevailing, the action of the Court \ncould be looked upon as wholly free from outside \nrestraint so long as its sittings were in Boston. It \nwas true there had been no tumult as yet, and the \nlaw-abiding habits of the people made tumults im- \nprobable. But the province, though made up of a \ntolerably compact body of settlements, was without \nany system of mails or public conveyance, — without \nnewspaper, newsletter, or printing-press. The only \nmeans of communication was by word-of-mouth, or by \nletter sent through chance occasion. The boat, the \nsaddle and the farm-wagon were the forms of car- \nriage ; and he who could command none of these \nmight either find his way on foot or stay at home. \nThis was an important fact, not to be disregarded in \nany attempt to forecast the result of an impending \nelection. It was true, the charter-officers of the com- \npany were no longer chosen by those only of the free- \nmen who were present and actually voting in the gen- \neral assembly which elected them. Heretofore this had \nbeen the practice ; but, naturally, the inconvenience \nincident to such a system had made itself more and \nmore felt as the settlements spread over a wider ter- \nritorial surface, and this inconvenience had been tem- \nporarily met by the passage of a recent law permitting \nthe freemen to send in their votes by proxy, which \nlaw was now to go into operation for the first time. \nStill the votes were not to be cast in the towns where \n\n\n1637. ENDICOTT PUTS THE QUESTION. 449 \n\nthe freemen dwelt, and then canvassed. They were \nsimply held in the form of proxies to be used in the \ncase of formal balloting by a deliberative body. That \nthe coming election would be hotly contested was well \nknown. It was to take place, as before, in a general \nassembly of the freemen ; and, in the course of a con- \ntested election held in this way, it was inevitable that \npoints of order and procedure would arise. These \npoints, as they arose, would have to be decided by \nthose actually present, voting viva voce., or by count \nof uplifted hands. If the election was held in Bos- \nton, every Boston freeman would assuredly be pres- \nent, and his vote would count. The freemen from \nthe other towns would be in a strange place ; they \nwould be overawed and silenced by the unanimity of \nthose who felt themselves at home. If riot or vio- \nlence should occur, the case would be yet worse, for \nevery advantage would be on one side ; all the dis- \nadvantages on the other. Then, after the magistrates \nwere chosen, the sessions of the Court were to be \nheld. At these sessions matters were to be discussed \nand issues were to be decided in regard to which \nintense feeling existed. Under such circumstances, a \nlegislative assembly, which was supreme, could hardly \nbe expected to hold its sittings in a place where the \nwhole public sentiment was bitterly opposed to those \ncomposing a majority of that assembly, and where the \nlocal church constituted itself a sort of board of revis- \nion over any action taken. \n\nThough all this was obvious enough. Vane declined \nto see it. He was the presiding officer of the Court, \nand he met a formal motion for a change of the place \nin which its next sessions were to be held, not as a \ngovernor and presiding officer should, but again with \n\n\n450 THE FAST-DAY SERMON. 1637. \n\nthe angry petulance of a displeased boy. He flatly \nrefused to eutertain it. Apparently he had not yet \nlearned that those with whom he was dealing were \nmen, — and men quite as decided as he, and a good \ndeal more mature. They were of the class which \nproduced Eliot and Pym, Hampden and Cromwell ; \n^nd it was not likely they would now be turned from \ntheir course by childish opposition : so, when Win- \nthrop, the deputy-governor, hesitated to usurp the \npresiding officer's functions, upon the ground that he \nwas himself also an inhabitant of Boston, the stern \nEndicott was equal to the occasion. He submitted \nthe question to a vote, and declared it carried. The \nCourt then adjourned. \n\n\n17th \nS7th \n\n\nCHAPTER VI. \n\nA HOUSE DIVIDED AGAINST ITSELF. \n\nThe charter-election was this year to be held on the \nf7^ of May, and the time which intervened between \nthe adjournment of the Court in March and that day \nwas one of great excitement. Not only was each \nparty to the theological dispute striving to secure the \ncontrol of the government, but the fear of an impend- \ning war with the dreaded Pequot tribe was in every \nmind. So far as the church of Boston was concerned, \nthere were no signs whatever that the dissensions \nwhich rent it were subsiding. Mr. Wilson and Mrs. \nHutchinson could not be brought together. They \nwere separated by something far more insuperable \nthan even theological tenets, — by an extreme per- \nsonal antipathy. \n\nAs the election day drew near, Winthrop and Vane \nwere put forward as opposing candidates, and the \nadherents of neither neglected any precaution likely \nto influence the result ; while the deep interest felt \nin that result of itself insured not only a full vote, but \na large personal attendance. Though recorded as of \nMay 17, 1637, it is to be borne in mind that the \nevents now to be described really took place on what \nis with us the 27th of the month, so that, as spring \nwas merging into early summer, the verdure was far \nadvanced. The day was clear and warm, when at one \no'clock the freemen gathered in groups about a large \n\n\n452 A HOUSE DIVIDED AGAINST ITSELF. May, \n\noak-tree which stood on the north side of what is now \nCambridge Common, where Governor Vane, in Eng- \nlish fashion and beneath the open sky, announced the \npurpose of the meeting, — the annual charter-election. \nMost of the notabilities of the province, whether ma- \ngistrates or clergy, were among the large number pres- \nent. As soon as the meeting was declared ready for \nbusiness, a parliamentary contest was opened over a \npetition offered on behalf of many inhabitants of \nBoston. It was in effect an appeal, in the case of \nWheelwright, taken from the deputies to the body of \nfreemen themselves, in General Court assembled. As \nsuch, its presentation at that time was clearly not in \norder ; for, as the day was specially set apart for the \nchoice of magistrates, the choice of magistrates took \nprecedence over everything. If other business could \nbe thrust on the meeting first, it was obvious an elec- \ntion might in this way be defeated, and the colony \nleft without a government. Vane took advantage \nof his place as presiding officer to insist upon having \nthe paper read. To this Winthrop objected, contend- \ning very properly that the special business of the day \nshould first of all be disposed of. As Vane stood \nfirm, an angry debate ensued, and the significance \nof the change in locality became at once apparent. \nHad the Court met in Boston, there can be little \ndoubt that Vane, who had forgotten the magistrate in \nthe party leader, would have been sustained in his \narbitrary rulings by the voices of those actually pres- \nent. The position assumed by the youthful governor \nwas striking and dramatic enough ; but it was also \nsuggestive of memories connected with that greater \nand more turbulent forum, in which Gracchus and \nSulpicius appealed directly from the senate to the \n\n\n1637. THE WAY TO CAMBRIDGE. 453 \n\npeople of Rome. That, under the strain to which \nthe eager and too zealous patrician now subjected it, \nthe meeting did not break into riot, was due only to \nthe self-control and respect for law and form — the \ninherited political habit — of. those who composed it. \n\nSeparated as the two places were by a broad arm \nof the sea, and the adjoining flats and marshes, Boston \nwas then a long way from Cambridge. Indeed, it is \nnot easy to realize that the two cities — now so closely \nconnected by direct, broad thoroughfares, running be- \ntween continuous rows of buildings — could, even two \ncenturies and a half ago, have been so far apart that \nthe passage from one to the other was not only long \nand tedious, but at times fraught with peril. Yet \nsuch was the fact. Only a few months after the elec- \ntion of 1637, Winthrop recorded how a young man, \ncoming alone from Cambridge to Boston in a storm, \nperished, and was found dead in his boat ; and, more \nthan sixty years later, the wife of the president of the \ncollege, having her children with her, was in great \ndanger while making the same passage, and found her \nway to Boston at last over Roxbury neck, after being \ndriven ashore on the Brookline marshes.^ On the \n4th of July, 1711, Judge Sewall noted down that he \n\" went to Commencement by Water in a sloop,\" and \nin May, 1637, the most direct way of going to Newe- \ntowne from the vicinity of Mr. Wilson's church, at \nthe head of State Street in Boston, was unquestion- \nably by boat, taken probably at Long Wharf. In a \ngood shallop, with a favoring breeze and a flood tide, \nit was a pleasant sail ; but if the journey was to be \nmade by land, it would be necessary to cross over to \nCharlestown, or go many miles about by way of Bos- \n\n1 Sewall, Diary ^ ii. 74. \n\n\n454 A HOUSE DIVIDED AGAINST ITSELF. May, \n\nton neck, through Roxbury and Watertown, for there \nwas as yet no ferry from the foot of the hill below \nWilliam Blackstone's house. Accordingly, as had \ndoubtless been intended when the place was chosen, it \nhad proved much easier for the freemen of Roxbury, \nWatertown, Charlestown and the northern towns to \nassemble on Cambridge Common than for those of \nBoston ; and it speedily became manifest that the \nlarger number of those present sided with Winthrop. \nThis fact held in check the friends of Vane. None \nthe less, threatening speeches drew forth angry words, \nand a few of the more hot-headed were on the verge \nof coming to blows ; some, indeed, did lay hands upon \neach other. In the midst of the tumult the pastor \nWilson — his gravity of calling, the stoutness of his \nperson and his fifty years of age notwithstanding — \nclambered up against the trunk of the spreading oak, \nand, clinging to one of its branches, began vehemently \nto harangue the meeting, exhorting the freemen there \npresent to look to their charter, and to consider of \nthe present work of the day, which was therein set \napart for the choosing their magistrates. In reply to \nthis sudden appeal, a loud cry was raised of \" Elec- \ntion ! Election ! ! \" in response to which Winthrop, as \ndeputy-governor, cut the knot by declaring that the \ngreater number should decide on the course to be \npursued. He then put the question himself. The \nresponse did not admit of doubt. The majority were \nclearly in favor of proceeding to an immediate elec- \ntion. \n\nVane still refused to comply. Then, at last, Win- \nthrop flatly told him that, if he would not go on, they \nwould go on without him. Remembering how Endi- \ncott had dealt with him under very similar circum- \n\n\n1637. A POLITICAL UPHEAVAL. 455 \n\nstances only two months before, Vane now gave way \nto the inevitable, and the election was allowed to pro- \nceed. It resulted in the complete defeat of his party. \nHe was himself left out of the magistracy, as also \nwere Wheeh^T^ight's two parishioners at the Mount, \nCoddington and Hough. The conservative party re- \nsumed complete political control under Winthrop as \ngovernor, with the stern and intolerant Dudley as his \ndeputy. As if also to indicate in a special way their \napproval of Endicott's decided course throughout \nthese proceedings, the deputies, among their first acts \nwhen they met, chose him a member of the standing \ncouncil for the term of his life, — an honor which a \nyear before, in plain defiance of the charter, had been \nconferred upon Winthrop and Dudley, the governor \nand deputy now elected, and which never was con- \nferred on any except these three. The reaction was \ncomplete. \n\nThe freemen of Boston meanwhile had anxiously \nwatched the election, intentionally deferring the choice \nof their own delegates to the new Court, in order that \nthey might be free to act as events should seem to \nmake expedient. They now at once, on the morning \nof the day after the election, chose as their representa- \ntives the defeated candidates for the magistracy, — \nVane, Coddington and Hough. The Court saw fit to \nlook upon this action as an affront, and, declaring the \nelection \" undue,\" ordered a new one to be had. A \npretext for this foolish course was found in an alleged \nfailure to notify two of the Boston freemen of the \nmeeting to elect. A new warrant was immediately \nissued, and notice then given by \" private and par- \nticular warning from house to house,\" as a result of \nwhich the contumacious town returned the same three \n\n\n456 A HOUSE DIVIDED AGAINST ITSELF. June, \n\nmen. And now the Court, \" not finding how they \nmight reject them,\" admitted them to their seats. \nThis was on the .^^ of May, two days after the gen- \neral election, — so simple and prompt was the early \nprocedure. \n\nThe Massachusetts General Court of 1637 consisted \nof eleven magistrates elected by the freemen of the \ncolony at large, and thirty-two deputies chosen by the \nfourteen towns, and representing them. Magistrates \nand deputies sat and voted together, — the separation \ninto two chambers, as the result of the controversy \nbetween Goodwife Sherman and Captain Keayne over \nthe slaughtered hog of the latter, not taking place \nuntil five years later, in 1642. Of this body, consist- \ning, all told, of forty-three members, the opponents of \nMrs. Hutchinson had complete control; might was \nwholly on their side, for the opposition was limited to \nthe three Boston representatives. At first the domi- \nnant party used their power sparingly, and an earnest \nattempt seems even to have been made to put an end \nto strife. It came, too, from influential quarters. The \nclergy was not wholly made up of fanatics like Peters, \nor of bigots like Weld, or of those by nature con- \ntentious, like Wheelwright, and the better class of \nthem, men like Shepard and Cotton, now evinced a \nreal desire to reach some common ground. There was \nno printing-press in the land, and it was only through \nsermons, lectures, disputations, and manuscript writ- \nings circulating from hand to hand, that the discus- \nsion could be carried on ; but, by the industrious use \nof these means, the subtle questions in dispute were \nreduced to so fine a point that Winthrop, tolerably \nversed as he was in the metaphysico-theologies of the \ntime, very distinctly intimated that the issues involved \n\n\n1637. METAPHYSICAL SUBTLETIES. 457 \n\nwere beyond his comprehension. \" Except men of \ngood understanding,\" said he, \" and such as knew the \nbottom of the tenets of those of the other party, few \ncould see where the difference was.\" Wheelwright \neven, stubborn as he was, showed some signs of yield- \ning. And thus the stumbling-block, the single ob- \nstacle which apparently stood in the way of complete \nreconciliation, was reduced to this curious thesis, — \nto the average modern reader, pure foolishness, — \n\" Whether the first assurance be by an absolute prom- \nise always, and not by a conditional also ; and whether \na man could have any true assurance, without sight of \nsome such work in his soul as no hypocrite could \nattain unto.\" Translated into modern speech this \nmeant simply that, Yane and Cotton, representing the \nBoston church, accepted the Calvinistic tenet of pre- \ndestination, and denied that conduct in life, or works, \ncould be a plea for salvation. In other words, in the \nelect, salvation was not conditional ; such were born \nto be saved, else Omnipotence was not prescient. \nFrom this logic there seemed, humanly speaking, no \nescape, and Antinomianism apparently followed ; but \nit was then added that, practically, no one could be \nof the elect, or have any real assurance of salvation, \nwithout such genuine moral elevation as was wholly \ninconsistent with hypocrisy or licentiousness in life. \n\nThere would seem to be nothing in metaphysical \nsubtleties of this description calculated of necessity to \nrender those who saw fit to indulge in them an element \nof civil danger in the state. Winthrop seems to have \nreached some such common-sense conclusion, and at \nfirst his councils prevailed. So presently when, in \nthe order of legislative business. Wheelwright's case \nwas taken up, and he again presented himself before \n\n\n458 A HOUSE DIVIDED AGAINST ITSELF. June, \n\nthe Court, he was merely dismissed until its next \nsession ; though with a significant admonition that in \nthe interval it would be well for him to bethink him- \nself of retracting and reforming his error, if he hoped \nto receive favor. His answer was thoroughly charac- \nteristic of the man and of the times. He boldly de- \nclared that if he had been guilty of sedition he ought \nto be put to death ; but that, if the Court meant to \nproceed against him, he should take his appeal to the \nKing. As for retraction, he had nothing to retract. \n\nAlthough the more moderate portion of the domi- \nnant party were reluctant to go to extremes, and still \nhoped that some way would open itself to peace and \nreconciliation, they were not disposed to run any risk \nof letting the fruits of their victory escape them. \nThey held the magistracy, and they did not propose \nto be driven from it. The franchise, it has already \nbeen mentioned, was an incident to church-member- \nship ; and all the churches in the province, save one \nonly, could safely be counted upon. Though such a \ncondition of affairs would seem to have afforded \nassurance enough, it did not satisfy the dominant \nparty ; so it was determined to make assurance doubly \nsure. With this end in view the General Court now \npassed an alien law, which may safely be set down as \none of the most curious of the many curiosities of \npartisan legislation. \n\nAs is usually the case with legislation of this nature, \nthe alien law of 1637 was intended to meet a particu- \nlar case. Framed as a general law, it was designed \nfor special application. The tide of immigration to \nNew England was then at its flood. With the rest, \nWheelwright and his friends were looking for a large \naddition to their number in the speedy arrival of a \n\n\n1637. THE ALIEN LAW OF 1637. 459 \n\nportion of the church of a Mr. Brierly in England, \nwho possibly may have been Wheelwright's successor \nat Bilsby. One party was already on its way ; for, \nwhile the Court sat in June, in July, only a month \nlater, some of Hutchinson's kinsfolk landed with others \nat Boston. Not improbably they were of the Brierly \nchurch. Had they been permitted to remain within \nthe limits of the patent, there can hardly be any ques- \ntion these people would have settled at the Mount, \nwhere Wheelwrio^ht ministered and where William \nHutchinson's farm lay. In the existing state of pub- \nlic opinion they could not, indeed, have very well set- \ntled anywhere else. It was with a view to this rein- \nforcement of the minority that the General Court in \nMay passed that alien law of 1637, which imposed \nheavy penalties in case strangers were harbored or \nallowed to remain in the province above three weeks \nwithout a magistrate's permission. The peculiar point \nand hardship of the law lay, of course, in the fact that \nall the magistrates, without exception, belonged to one \nparty in the state, and were wholly devoted to it.^ \n\n1 The original germ of this law is found in the entry of 30th No- \nvember, 1635, of the Boston records (Second Report of Boston Record \nCommissioners, 5). But the act passed by the General Court of 1637 \nis so singular, and so large a body of Massachusetts town legislation \nseems to have originated from it, that it is here printed in full. Its \npassage led at the time to a series of papers, attacking and def ending- \nit, from the pens of Vane and Winthrop. These are included in the \nHutchinson Papers. There is an abstract of the discussion in Up- \nham's Life of Vane in Sparks' American Biography (N. S. vol. iv.). \nThe text of the law (Records, i. 196) reads as follows : — \n\n\"It is ordered, that no towne or person shall receive any stranger, \nresorting hither with intent to reside in this jurisdiction, nor shall \nallow any lot or habitation to any, or entertain any such above three \nweeks, except such person shall have allowance under the hands of \nsome one of the council, or of two other of the magistrates, upon pain \nthat every town that shall give or sell any lot or habitation to any \n\n\n4G0 A HOUSE DIVIDED AGAINST ITSELF. June, \n\nWhen the body of immigrants from the Brierly \nchurch landed, they were confronted with this new \nordinance. So far as appeared, they were all God- \nfearing, well disposed, English men and women, and \nin Boston their friends were in a large majority ; yet \ntheir friends could not entertain them above three \nweeks, nor could Boston give or sell them a lot or \nhabitation, under a heavy and recurring penalty. \nPresently others came, and among them Mrs. Hutch- \ninson's brother.^ A delay of four months only in the \nenforcement of the law could be obtained for them \nfrom Winthrop. At the expiration of that time they \nmust be without the jurisdiction. They submitted, \nfor they could not help themselves ; nor is it now \nknown where they went, though probably they settled \nin Exeter, in New Hampshire. \n\nParty feeling already ran dangerously high, evin- \ncing itself in ways not to be mistaken. The debates \nin the General Court had been violent and angry ; \nas Winthrop says, even insolent speeches had been \ndelivered. When the result of the election at Cam- \nsuch, not so allowed, shall forfeit £100 for every offence, and every \nperson receiving- any such, for longer time than is here expressed, (or \nthan shall be allowed in some special cases, as before, or in case of \nentertainment of friends resorting- from some other parts of this coun- \ntry for a convenient time,) shall forfeit for every offence £40; and \nfor every month after such person shall there continue £20 ; provided, \nthat if any inhabitant shall not consent to the entertainment of any \nsuch person, and shall g-ive notice thereof to any of the magistrates \nwithin one month after, such inhabitant shall not be liable to any \npart of this penalty. This order to continue till the end of the next \nCourt of Elections, and no long-er, except it be then confirmed.\" \n\n^ Winthrop speaks of \" a brother of Mrs. Hutchinson \" (i. 27*^), but \nhe probably meant a brother-in-law. It was apparently Samuel \nHutchinson, who received permission to remain in Boston through \nthe winter of 1637 (Records, i. 207), and who the next spring accom.- \npanied Wheelwright to New Hampshire. (Bell, Wheelivright, 34.) \n\n\n1637. PARTY FEELING. 461 \n\nbridge was declared, the sergeants who, as was then \nthe custom, were in official attendance upon Vane, \narmed with swords and halberds, refused to escort \nhis successor. They were all Boston men, and their \nconduct is the best possible evidence of the unanim- \nity as well as the intensity of the feeling there. Lay- \ning down their halberds they went home, leaving \nWinthrop, the newly elected governor, to do the same, \nunattended. When at this time, also, Boston was \ncalled upon to supply her portion of the levy for ser- \nvice in the Pequot campaign, not a church-member \nwould consent to be mustered ; and the refusal was \nbased on the fact that their own pastor, selected from \namong the clergy by lot as the chaplain to accompany \nthe contingent, walked in a Covenant of Works. Mili- \ntary service, especially of a somewhat desperate char- \nacter in savage warfare, is not usually coveted, and in \nthis case a prudent regard for their own scalps may \nat the same time have dulled martial ardor and quick- \nened conscientious doubts in the minds of the church- \nmembers in question ; but none the less this holding \nback made at the time a deep impression throughout \nthe other towns of the province, giving \"great dis- \ncouragement to the service,\" and the apologists for \nthe subsequent persecution have not failed to put due \nemphasis on it since. ^ \n\nAs the June days passed away, the alien law was \nunder discussion at Cambridge, and the excitement in \nBoston increased rather than grew less. From the \ntime of his first coming, Vane had always occupied at \nchurch a seat of honor among the magistrates, whether \nhe was one of them or not. But on the Sabbath after \nthe election, instead of taking his usual place, he \n1 Palfrey, i. 492. \n\n\n402 A HOUSE DIVIDED AGAINST ITSELF. June, \n\nand Codclington went and sat with the deacons, in a \nway calculated to excite the utmost possible public \nnotice ; and when Winthrop, noticing this, cour- \nteously sent to them to resume their old places, they \npointedly declined to do so. As governor, Vane had \nwalked to church in state, accompanied by four of \nthe town's sergeants. They now refused to attend \nWinthrop, alleging that their attendance on his pre- \ndecessor had been merely out of personal devotion to \nhim. This could not but have been deeply mortify- \ning to Winthrop ; and it occasioned so much scandal \nthat the colony took notice of it, and offered to fur- \nnish men, from the neighboring towns in turn, to \ncarry the halberds as usual. Upon this Boston pro- \nfessed itself willing to furnish halberd-bearers, though \nnot the sergeants, and the Governor at last was fain \nto use two of his own servants, and so settle the mat- \nter. Nor were Vane's discourtesies to Winthrop con- \nfined to official acts or questions of church etiquette. \nThey touched social relations also. It has already been \nseen how in June the Governor undertook to give a \ndinner party to young Lord Ley, and among others \nsent an invitation to Vane ; and how Vane declined \nto come on the extraordinary ground that \" his con- \nscience withheld him ; \" but, at the time named for \nthe entertainment, \" went over to Noddle's Island to \ndine with Mr. Maverick, and carried the Lord Ley \nwith him.\" Besides being the recognized leader of \nthe opposition. Vane was a defeated candidate for \noffice ; and, as such, it was peculiarly incumbent upon \nhim to behave with dignity and self-restraint. Win- \nthrop had already set him a lofty example in this \nrespect : but Winthrop never appeared to such ad- \nvantage as when bearing up against political defeat, \n\n\n1637. ''HOT speeches:' 463 \n\nwhile Vane now demeaned himself rather like an \nangry, sulking schoolboy than like the head of a party \nin the state ; and his followers undoubtedly imitated \nhim. Consequently, all through the summer of 1637 \nWinthrop's position must have been most trying. \nWilson, who had he been there would have shared \nthe general opprobrium with him, was absent with the \nsoldiers of the Pequot expedition. Hence the Gov- \nernor found himself in Boston — Boston, his home \nand the town he had founded — with the whole com- \nmunity as one man against him. Vane would not go \nto his house. The town officers refused to attend \nupon him. A bitter controversy was going on over \nthe alien law, which excited so much feeling that Cot- \nton seriously thought of moving out of the province, \nwhile not even the relief and exultation over the tri- \numphant close of the Pequot war drew men's thoughts \naway from it. Nor was this to be wondered at. The \nnews of Mason's victories in Connecticut and the \nstorming of the Pequot fort reached Boston at the \nvery time when Winthrop, acting under that alien \nlaw, refused to permit Samuel Hutchinson to remain \nin the province. In the hour of common triumph, \ntherefore, the people of Boston saw their friends, rel- \natives and sympathizers, who had just finished the \nweary voyage which joined them in exile, refused even \na resting-place, much more an asylum, — and refused \nit, also, merely on the ground that they were the \nfriends, relatives and sympathizers of the people of \nBoston. Such a stretch of government authority not \nonly must have seemed an outrage, but it was an \noutrage. It compelled a denial of those rights of \ncommon hospitality which even savages respect, and \nas persecution it was not less bitter than any prac- \n\n\n464 A HOUSE DIVIDED AGAINST ITSELF. Aug. \n\ntised in England. Looked at even now, after the \nlapse of two hundred years and more, to be forced to \nsend one's brother or sister, at their first coming into \na new land, out into the wilderness — even as Abra- \nham sent Hagar — was a sore test of patience. The \nminority in Boston would have been either more or \nless than human had they meekly submitted to it. \nThey did not meekly submit to it ; and so, when mid- \nsummer was come, there were \" many hot speeches \ngiven forth,\" and angry threats were freely made. \n\nEarly in August the posture of the opposing fac- \ntions underwent a change ; Wheelwright lost a potent \nfriend and ally, and the party of the clericals gained \none. On the ~ Vane sailed for England, and his \nfriends took advantage of his departure to make a \npolitical demonstration. The ship he was to go in \nlay at anchor well dow^n the harbor, opposite Long \nIsland. As the hour for embarking drew near, his \npolitical adherents and those who sympathized in his \ntheological views collected together, and formally ac- \ncompanied their departing leader to his boat. They \nwere under arms, and some cannon had been brought \nout ; and, as the barges bearing him and a company \nof friends were rowed out into the stream, they were \nsaluted again and again by volleys of small arms and \nordnance. Winthrop was not there to bid his rival \nfarewell ; nor, in view of Vane's studied discourtesies \nto him, was he to be blamed for his absence. None \nthe less he was mindful of the occasion and what was \ndue to it, and, as the party swept by Castle Island, \nthe salute from the town was taken up by the fort \nand repeated. \n\nVane never came back to Boston ; nor, judging \nby his course while there, is the fact greatly to be \n\n\n1637. WINTHROP AND VANE. 465 \n\nregretted. Doubtless he improved, and, as he grew \nolder, he became more self -restrained ; none the less \nhe was born an agitator and always remained one, \nand it is of men of this description that new countries \nstand in least need. Unquestionably as respects the \nissues involved in the so-called Antinomian contro- \nversy. Vane was, in the abstract, more — much more \n— nearly right than Winthrop. But, while his mind \nwas destructive in its temper, that of Winthrop was \nconstructive. In new countries everything is to be built \nup, and there is little to pull down. In the Massa- \nchusetts of 1637, there was nothing but the clergy. \nVane was the popular leader in the first movement \nagainst their supremacy, and the fight he made showed \nhe possessed parliamentary qualities of a high order ; \nbut, as was apparent in the result of it, the move- \nment itself was premature. After the failure of that \nmovement its leader would have proved wholly out of \nplace in New England, while in England he found \nample field for the exercise of all his powers. In the \nworld's advance every one cannot be on the skirmish \nline ; nor is the sharp-shooter necessarily a more use- \nful soldier than he who advances only just in front of \nthe solid line of battle, — even though the latter be \nless keen of sight and wide of vision. As compared \nwith Winthrop, the younger Vane was a man of \nlarger and more active mind, of more varied and bril- \nliant qualities. What is now known as an advanced \nthinker, he instinctively looked deeper into the heart \nof his subject. Winthrop, it is true, shared in the \ndarkness and the superstition, and even — in his calm, \nmoderate way — in the intolerance of his time ; but \nit was just that sharing in the weakness as well as the \nstrength — the superstitions as weU as the faith — of \n\n\n468 A HOUSE DIVIDED AGAINST ITSELF. Aug. \n\nLis time which made him so valuable in the place \nchance called upon him to fill. He was in sympathy \nwith his surroundings, — just enough in the advance, \nand not too much. In 1637 — persecution or no per- \nsecution, momentarily right or momentarily wrong — \nMassachusetts could far better spare Henry Vane \nfrom its councils than it could have spared John Win- \nthrop. \n\nVane's departure was none the less an irreparable \nloss, almost a fatal blow, to John Wheelwright, for \nby it he was deprived of his protector, and left, naked \nand bound, in the hands of his enemies. Nor did \nthey long delay over the course they would take with \nhim. The Pequot war was ended ; for in July the \nlast remnant of the doomed tribe had been destroyed \nin the swamp fight at New Haven, and now grave ma- \ngistrates and elders were bringing to Boston from the \nConnecticut the skins and the scalps of Sassacus and \nhis sachems, ghastly trophies of the savage fight. They \narrived on the ~ of August, Vane having sailed on \nthe i^b? ^^^ t^6 same day the party of the clericals \nwas reinforced by the return of Mr. Wilson. Having \nbeen absent some seven weeks, with the Massachu- \nsetts contingent under Stoughton's command, he had \nbeen sent for to return at once. In response to the \nsummons Stoughton — then at New London, and pre- \nparing to cross over to Block Island — immediately \ndismissed his chaplain, \" albeit,\" he wrote, \" we con- \nceived we had special interest in him, and count our- \nselves naked without him ; \" but he bethought himself \nthat \"we could enjoy him but one Sabbath more.\" \nAnd so Wilson returned by way of Providence, in \ncompany with the Rev. Thomas Hooker and the Rev. \nSamuel Stone, respectively the minister and the \n\n\n1637. REFRESHED AND GRIM. 467 \n\nteacher of the church at Hartford, both close dispu- \ntants as well as famous divines. All the clergy of the \nprovince and neighboring settlements were in fact \nnow directing their steps towards Boston ; and the \nspirit of theological controversy aroused itself, quick- \nened and refreshed by two months of thought diverted \nto carnal warfare. A synod was to be held. \n\n\nCHAPTER VII. \n\nV^ VICTIS. \n\nSynods and convocations are the last recourse of \nperplexed theologians. A high authority in matters \nconnected with Puritan history and theology, after \nreferring to them as \" the bane and scourge of Chris- \ntendom,\" adds that, while \"called to promote har- \nmony and uniformity, they have invariably resulted \nin variance, discord and a widening of previous \nbreaches.\" ^ The synod of 1637 was the first thing of \nthe sort attempted in America; and, under the cir- \ncumstances, and in the absence of all the usual ma- \nchinery for carrying on discussion, it was perhaps \nas good a method of bringing opposing parties to- \ngether as could have been devised. When brought \ntogether, even if no agreement could be reached, they \nmight at least find out each where the other stood ; \nand, if the chances were that in its results a synod \nwould embitter rather than allay strife, this risk had \nto be taken. The meeting was fixed for the ^ of \nse\"pTember? ^.ud a busy thrcc weeks, crowded with meet- \nings and lectures. Days of Humiliation and Days of \nThanksgiving, preceded. Some of the elders, evi- \ndently much troubled at the gravity of the situation, \nbusied themselves to bring • about an understanding \nbetween Wilson and Wheelwright and Cotton. So \nfar as Cotton was concerned they were not unsuc- \n1 Ellis, The Puritan Age, 219 ; Savage, Wintkrqp, i. *240, n. \n\n\n1637. OPINIONS \"PRIVATELY CARRIED:' 469 \n\ncessful, for, now that Vaue was gone, the eloquent \nteacher of the Boston church began to find his posi- \ntion a trying one. He had, indeed, seriously thought \nof turning his back on the dust and turmoil of Bos- \nton, — political as well as theological, — and seeking \nrefuge and quiet elsewhere ; but the idea did not \ncommend itself to him. He was no longer young, \nand, perhaps, his nerves gave way before the pros- \npect of again facing the wilderness, a banished man ; \nperhaps also he was over-persuaded by the members \nof his church. Accordingly a sensation was excited \nin the Boston meeting-house when, on the Sunday \nfollowing Wilson's return, Cotton announced to the \ncongregation that the minister had explained certain \nwords, used by him in his discourse before the Court \nin the previous October, as applying not to any pul- \npit doctrines uttered by the teacher himself or by \nhis brother Wheelwright, but to some opinions \" pri- \nvately carried.\" As it was quite well known that Mr. \nWilson had long before made this very equivocal con- \ncession, the sudden change in his own mind, indicated \nby Cotton's announcement, excited no little comment. \nHe was evidently opening a way for retreat. \n\nThe following Thursday Mr. Davenport delivered \nthe lecture at Boston. He was a famous controver- \nsialist, and had in Holland borne earnest witness \nagainst what he termed \" promiscuous baptism,\" hold- \ning rigidly to the tenet that children of communicants \nonly should be admitted to that holy institution. \nHaving only recently come to New England, Mr. \nDavenport had no settlement within the patent ; but, \nnevertheless, out of deference to his great fame, he had \nbeen urged to attend the Synod, and he now lectured \non the nature and danger of divisions, while at the \n\n\n470 V^ VICTIS. ' Sep. \n\nsame time he \" clearly discovered his judgment against \nthe new opinions.\" It was another indication of the \nset of the tide. The 24th of the month was kept as a \nFast-day in all the churches ; and on the 26th, amidst \nmuch rejoicing, Stoughton and his soldiers returned \nfrom their Pequot campaign and were feasted. Then \ncame g^S^,, and the Synod. \n\nIt met at Cambridge, and was composed of some \ntwenty-five ministers, being \" all the teaching elders \nthrough the country,\" with whom were Davenport and \nothers freshly arrived. When to these were added \nthe lay members and the body of the magistrates, it \nwill be seen that the attendance was large. The de- \nliberations were in public. Among those present \nwere some few of Shepard's conciliatory temper, but \nthe majority and the leaders were men of the type of \nWard, Weld and Peters. They were there to stamp \na heresy out ; and they proposed to do it just as \neffectually in New England as Archbishop Laud, at \nthat same time, was proposing to do it in the mother \ncountry. From the first, a well-developed spirit of \ntheological hate showed itself in easy control of every- \nthing. Mather says that \" at the beginning of the \nassembly, after much discourse against the unscriptu- \nral enthusiasms and revelations then by some con- \ntended for, Mr. Wilson proposed : ' You that are \nagainst these things, and that are for the spirit and \nthe word together, hold up your hands ! ' And the \nmultitude of hands then held up was a comfortable \nand encouraging introduction unto the other proceed- \nings.\" The other proceedings were in perfect keep- \ning with the introduction. There was in them no \ntrace of wisdom, of conciliation or of charity, — no- \nthing but priestly intolerance, stimulated by blind \nzeal. \n\n\n1637. \" UNWHOLESOME EXPRESSIONS.\" 471 \n\nNo sooner was it organized and ready for business \nthan the Synod proceeded to throw out a sort of gen- \neral drag-net designed to sweep up all conceivable \nheretical opinions. The work was thoroughly done, \nand soon there were spread upon the record no less \nthan eighty-two \" opinions, some blasphemous, others \nerroneous, and all unsafe,\" besides nine \" unwhole- \nsome expressions.\" ^ As all the twenty-five ministers \n— with one exception, or possibly two — were of the \nsame way of thinking, the proceedings were reason- \nably harmonious. Certain of the lay members from \namong the Boston delegates were indeed outspoken in \ntheir expressions of ' disgust that such a huge body of \nheresies should be paraded without any pretence of \ntheir being entertained by any one ; but Wheelwright \nseems discreetly to have held his peace, taking the \nground that, as they were not imputed to him, they \nwere none of his concern. Consequently, when the \nindignant Bostonians got up and left the assembly, \nhe remained behind, nor jarred upon the spirit of \nunbroken harmony which for a time followed their \ndeparture. After every conceivable abstract opinion \nand expression had been raked up, the entire pile was \nmost appropriately disposed of by the Kev. Mr. Wil- \nson with one sweep of the theological dung-fork. In \nreply to the gasping inquiry of one of his brethren as \nto what should be done with such a dispensation of \n\n1 As the term \"unwholesome expressions\" hardly conveys a clear \nidea to modern readers, a statement of one of those now spread upon \nthe record, and of its synodical confutation, may not be out of place : — \n\n\"S. Peter more leaned to a Covenant of Works than Paul, Pauls \ndoctrine does more for free grace than Peters. \n\n\" Axsw. To oppose these persons and the doctrine of these two \nApostles of Christ, who were guided by one and the same Spirit in \npreaching- and penning thereof, in such a point as the Covenant of \nworkes and grace, is little lesse than blasphemy.\" \n\n\n472 VjE VICTIS. Sep. \n\nheterodoxies, the pastor of the Boston church ex- \nclaimed, no less vigorously than conclusively : — \" Let \nthem go to the devil of hell, from whence they came ! \" \nHaving in this way very comfortably disposed of \npreliminaries, the Synod settled itself down to real \nbusiness. The work in hand was to devise some form \nof words which Cotton and Wheelwright on the one \nside, and the body of their brethren on the other, \nwould assent to as an expression of common belief. \nThere were five points nominally in question, which \nwere subsequently reduced to three. To appreciate \nthe whole absurdity of the jargon, in which meta- \nphysics lent confusion to theology, these must be \nstated in full : — \n\n\" 1. That the new creature is not the person of a believer, \nbut a body of saving graces in such a one ; and that Christ, \nas a head, doth enliven or quicken, preserve or act the \nsame, but Christ himself is no part of this new creature. \n\n\" 2. That though, in effectual calling (in which the an- \nswer of the soul is by active faith, wrought at the same in- \nstant by the Spirit,) justification and sanctification be all \ntogether in them ; yet God doth not justify a man, before \nhe be effectually called, and so a believer. \n\n\"3. That Christ and his benefits may be offered and \nexhibited to a man under a Covenant of Works, but not in \nor by a Covenant of Works.\" \n\nIt is not easy to realize now that strong, matter-of- \nfact, reasoning men could ever have been educated to \nthe point of inflicting — and, what is far more curious, \nof enduring — persecution, banishment and torture in \nthe propagation or in the defence of such incompre- \nhensible formulas. They furnish in themselves at \nonce the strongest evidence and the most striking \nillustration of the singular condition of religious and \n\n\n1637. \" THE HOST OF HELL.\" 473 \n\ntheological craze in which early New England existed. \nAs the modern investigator puzzles over these articles \nof a once living faith, in vain trying to find out in \nwhat lay their importance, — even conceding their \ntruth, — the Synod, and the outcome of its wrestlings, \ncalls to mind nothing so much as that passage from \nthe poem of the greatest of its co-religionists, wherein, \nwith bitter mockery, one portion of \" the host of Hell \" \nis represented as sitting on a hill apart, where they \n\n\" reason'd high \nOf Providence, foreknowledge, will, and fate, \nFix'd fate, free will, foreknowledge absolute; \nAnd found no end, in wand'ring mazes lost.\" \n\nThe difference between Milton's devils and the early \nNew England divines seems to have been that, while \nthe one and the other lost themselves in the same \nmazes of the unknowable, the former evinced much \nthe more Christian spirit of the two in their methods \nof conducting the debate. Both were suffering ban- \nishment from their former homes ; but, while the \nSynod of the fallen angels in their place of exile \namicably discussed points of abstract difference, the \nsimilar Synod of New England ministers betrayed, \nthroughout their proceedings, all \" the exquisite rancor \nof theological hate.\" \n\nAfter much discussion, written as well as oral, of \nthe controverted points. Cotton, with a degree of \nworldly wisdom which did credit to his head, declared \nat last that he saw light. Whether he really did so \nor not is of little consequence. It is clear that no one \nin the assembly had any distinct conception of what \nthey were talking about ; and it was certainly nothing \nagainst any one that he professed to see the nebidous \nidealities, at which they were all gazing through the \n\n\n474 V.E VICTIS. Sep. \n\ndense mist of words, in the same way that the majority \nsaw them. Wheelwright was of a less accommodating \nspirit. To him the cloud looked neither like a whale \nnor like a weasel. He would not say that it did. So \nfar as he was concerned, therefore, the Synod resulted \nexactly as his enemies desired. He was now com- \npletely isolated ; he had lost Cotton as well as Vane. \n\nThe sessions continued through twenty-four days. \nAt first arguments were delivered in writing and read \nin the assembly, and answers followed in the same \nway ; but as this method of procedure occupied too \nmuch time, recourse was had to oral disputation. \nThen the questions at issue were speedily determined. \nFinally, all other business being disposed of, Mrs. \nHutchinson's female symposiums were voted a nui- \nsance, or, in the language of the day, \" agreed to be \ndisorderly and without rule ; \" and then, on the ^d ^^ \nSoS^i the convocation broke up amid general con- \ngratulations \" that matters had been carried on so \npeaceably, and concluded so comfortably in all love.\" \nThe result of it all was that \" Mr. Cotton and they \nagreed, but Mr. Wheelwright did not.\" \n\nFrom the day of adjournment onward, therefore, \nWheelwright was to confront his opponents alone ; \nand in the number of his opponents were included the \nwhole body of the clergy and the whole body of the \nmagistracy. The Synod had done its work in two \nways ; not only was Cotton saved, but, the efforts at \nconciliation having failed, it only remained to leave \nthe refractory to be dealt with by the arm of the civil \nauthority. The General Court, elected at the time of \nthe stormy Cambridge gathering in May, had shown \nlittle disposition to grapple in earnest with the An- \ntinomian issue. As often as that issue presented itself \n\n\n1637. LOWERFNG CLOUDS. 475 \n\nit was postponed ; and the course of the deputies \nwould seem to warrant an inference that, elected as \nthey had been while the parties were not unevenly \ndivided, the Court contained a representation of \neach side sufficient to hold the other side in check. \nWhether this was so or not, on the -^ of Sir^ — just- \nfour days after the adjournment of the Synod — the \nCourt, which had been elected for the entire year, was \nsuddenly dissolved, and a new election ordered. \n\nThe cause of so unusual a proceeding can only be \ninferred ; yet it would seem but reasonable to suppose \nthat the legislature, as then made up, was not con- \nsidered equal to doing the work in hand ; and, cer- \ntainly, the new Court was a very different body from \nthe old one. Of the twenty-seven delegates who met \nat Cambridge on the day the May Court was dis- \nsolved, twelve only were reelected ; and of the thirty- \nthree members of the Court chosen in October, no \nless than twenty-one were new men. Among those \nleft out was Wheelwright's stanch friend and parish- \nioner, Atherton Hough ; but Coddington, Aspinwall \nand Coggeshall were returned by Boston, and consti- \ntuted at least a nucleus of opposition. \n\nThe new Court met on the ^ of November. Those \ncomposing it found both Wheelwright and Mrs. \nHutchinson still obdurate. The former, just as if no \nSynod had ascertained the whole everlasting truth \nand expressed it in plain language, was preaching the \nCovenant of Grace to all who would hear him at the \nMount ; while the latter continued her weekly female \ngatherings, and put no bridle on her tongue. With \nthe clouds lowering heavily over them, they main- \ntained a bold front. They did more than this, — they \neven went out to meet the danger, openly rejecting all \n\n\n476 V^ VICTIS. Nov. \n\nthought of compromise, with a loud assertion that the \ndifference between them and their opponents was as \nthat between heaven and hell, — a gulf too deep to \nfill, too wide to bridge. In later days, under simi- \nlar circumstances, persons feeling in this way would \nquietly have been permitted to set up a conventicle of \ntheir own, at which they could have mouthed their \nrubbish until they wearied. A schism in the church \nwould have restored quiet to the community. But \nthis was not the rule of primitive New England. That \nrule was one of rigid conformity, — the rule of the \n\" lord-brethren \" in place of the rule of the \" lord- \nbishops.\" So, as Winthrop expressed it, those in the \nmajority, \" finding, upon consultation, that two so \nopposite parties could not continue in the same body \nwithout apparent hazard of ruin to the whole, agreed \nto send away some of the principal.\" A somewhat \nsimilar conclusion had previously been reached in re- \ngard to Spain and the Netherlands by Philip II., and \nwas subsequently reached in regard to France by \n\nLouis xiy. \n\nHaving decided upon extreme measures the leaders \nof the dominant party now proceeded in a business- \nlike manner. Those composing the minority were to \nbe thoroughly disciplined. There was no difficulty \nin dealing with Wheelwright and Mrs. Hutchinson. \nThey were doomed. But the men who were in the \nascendant — the Welds, the Peters, the Bulkleys and \nthe Symmes of the colonial pulpit — had no idea of \ncontenting themselves with that small measure of \natonement. The heresy was to be extirpated, root \nand branch. \"Thorough\" was then the word at \nWhitehall ; and \" Thorough \" was the idea, if not the \nword, in Massachusetts. But a species of sweep-net \n\n\n1637. CONSTRUCTIVE SEDITION. 477 \n\nwas now needed which should bring the followers no \nless than the leaders under the ban of the law. The \nsuccessful prosecution of Wheelwright afforded the \nnecessary hint. Wheelwright had been brought within \nthe clutches of the civil authorities by a species of ex \n2)ost facto legal chicanery. Even his most bitter \nopponents did not pretend to allege that he had \npreached his Fast -day sermon with the intent to \nbring about any disturbance of the peace. They only \nclaimed that his utterances tended to make such a \nresult probable, and that his own observation ought \nto have convinced him of the fact.^ Therefore, they \nargued, although it was true that no breach of the \npeace had actually taken place, and although the \npreacher had no intent to excite to a breach of the \npeace, yet he was none the less guilty of constructive \nsedition. Constructive sedition was now made to do \nthe same work in New England which constructive \ntreason, both before and after, was made to do else- \nwhere. It was a most excellent device ; and a pre- \ntext, or \"fair opportunity,\" as Winthrop expresses it, \nfor its application was found in that remonstrance of \nthe 9th of tlie previous March, which, signed by sixty \nof the leading inhabitants of Boston, had now quietly \nreposed among the records of the colony through \nfour sessions of two separate legislatures. The paper \nspeaks for itself. ^ The single passage in it to which \neven a theologian's acuteness could give a color of \n\n1 This point is of importance, and Winthrop's language is explicit \nin regard to it : — \" If his intent were not to stirre up to open force and \narmes (neither do we suspect him of any such purpose, otherwise than \nby consequent) yet his reading' and experience might have told him, \nhow dangerous it is to heat people's aJEFections against their opposites.\" \nShort Story, 5;>. \n\n2 See Appendix ta Savag-e's Winthrop (ed. 1853), i. 481-3. \n\n\n478 V^ VICTIS. Nov. \n\nsedition was couched in these words : — \" Thirdly, if \nyou look at the effects of his Doctrine upon the hear- \ners, it hath not stirred up sedition in us, not so much \nas by accident ; we have not drawn the sword, as \nsometime Peter did, rashly, neither have we rescued \nour innocent brother, as sometime the Israelites did \nJonathan, and yet they did not seditiously.\" The last \nsix words are those which Governor Winthrop, and \nthe subsequent apologists of what now took place,^ \ndwell upon as in themselves sufficient to make the \ndrawing up or signing of this paper an offence for \nwhich banishment was a mild and hardly adequate \npenalty ; and this, too, in face of the fact that the re- \nmonstrance immediately went on as follows : — *' The \ncovenant of free grace held forth by our brother hath \ntaught us rather to become humble suppliants to your \nWorships, and if we should not prevail, we would \nrather with patience give our cheeks to the smiters.\" \n\nEven had this paper been of a seditious character, \nit was presented to a former Court, and not to the \none which now passed judgment upon it. The Court \nelected in November, 1637, had no more to do with \nthe Boston remonstrance of the preceding March \nthan with any other paper, the character of which, as \nit slept among the dusty archives, some deputy might \nchance not to fancy. Those to whom it was addressed \nhad considered it a respectful and proper document ; \nand it was reserved for a body to which it was not \naddressed to hunt it up on the files, in order to de- \nclare it a contempt and make it the basis of a pro- \nscription. \n\nThe Court met on the ^^ of November. No sooneT \nwas it organized than it became apparent it was to be \n\n1 Palfrey, i. 492. \n\n\n1637. A LEGISLATIVE PURGE. 479 \n\npurged ; In it the elements of opposition were few, but \nthose few were to be weeded out. It has already been \nmentioned that Coddington, Aspinwall and Cogges^ \nhall were the deputies from Boston. They were all \nthree adherents of the Covenant of Grace, friends of \nMrs. Hutchinson and supporters of Wheelwright ; \nwhile Coddington's name stood first among those \naffixed to the remonstrance now pronounced seditious. \nCoddington was a magistrate, an old and honored \nofficial, — a man classed, in popular estimation, with \nWinthrop and Endicott as one of the founders of the \ncolony. Him they did not like to attack ; and there \nis also reason to believe that Winthrop exerted him- \nself to shield his old associate. No such safeguards \nsurrounded Aspinwrll and Coggeshall. The record of \nthe Court shows that it was at once demanded of the \nformer whether he still adhered to the sentiments ex- \npressed in the remonstrance. He rej^lied that he did. \nA vote expelling him from his seat was immediately \npassed. Indignant at the expulsion of his colleague, \nCoggeshall then rose in his place and declared his \napprobation of the remonstrance, though his name \nwas not among those signed to it ; and he added that, \nif the course taken with Asj)inwall was to be followed \ntowards others, they \" had best make one work of all.\" \nHe was taken at his word, and forthwith expelled. \nOther deputies had then to be elected. The freemen \nof Boston would have been indeed devoid of any feel- \nings of manliness, much more of pride, had such treat- \nment of their representatives not excited indignation \namong them, and at first they proposed to return to \nthe Court the same deputies to whom seats had just \nbeen refused. This action must at once have brought \non the crisis, and Cotton prevented it ; for he was \n\n\n480 V^ VICTIS. Nov. \n\nstill looked upon as friendly to the defeated party, — \nindeed, in heart, he was so, — and among the church- \nmembers, who alone were freeholders, their teacher's \ninfluence was great. Instead of Coggeshall and As- \npinwall, accordingly, William Colburn and John \nOliver were chosen, and the next day appeared to \ntake their seats. But an examination of the remon- \nstrance revealed Oliver's name upon it ; and, when \nquestioned, he justified the paper. Permission to \ntake his seat was consequently refused him, and the \nelection of another in his place ordered. The free- \nmen of Boston took no notice of the new warrant. \n\nThe Court being now purged of all his friends, \nCoddington only excepted. Wheelwright's case was \ntaken up. He appeared in answer to the summons ; \nbut, when asked if he was yet prepared to confess \nhis errors, he stubbornly refused so to do, protesting \nhis entire innocence of what was charged against \nhim. He could not be induced to admit that he had \nbeen guilty either of sedition or of contempt, and he \nasserted that the doctrine preached by him in his \nFast -day discourse was sound; while, as to any indi- \nvidual application which had been made of it, he was \nnot accountable. Then followed a long wrangle, reach- \ning far into the night and continued the next day, \nduring which the natural obstinacy of Wheelwright's \ntemper must have been sorely tried. At his door was \nlaid the responsibility for all the internal dissensions \nof the province. He was the fruitful source of those \nvillage and parish ills ; and every ground of complaint \nwas gone over, from the lax response of Boston to \nthe call for men for the Pequot war to the slight \nput by his church upon Wilson, and by the halber- \ndiers upon Winthrop. To such an indictment de- \n\n\n1637. WHEELWRIGHT BANISHED. 481 \n\nfence was impossible ; and so, in due time, the Court \nproceeded to its sentence. It was disfranchisement \nand exile. As it was already what is the middle of \nour November, the date of the exile's departure was \nat first postponed until March, when the severity of \nthe winter would be over ; in the mean time, as a \npreacher, he was to be silenced. From this sentence \nWheelwright took an appeal to the King, which the \nCourt at once refused to allow. Twenty-four hours \nlater, after a night of reflection, he withdrew his ap- \npeal, offering to accept a sentence of simple banish- \nment, but refusing absolutely to be silenced. He was \nthen at last permitted to return to his own house at \nMt. Wollaston, and his sentence stands recorded as \nfollows : — \n\n\"Mr. John Wheelwright, being formally convicted of \ncontempt and sedition, and now justifying himself and his \nformer practice, being to the disturbance of the civil peace, \nhe is by the Court disfranchised and banished, having four- \nteen days to settle his affairs ; and, if within that time he \ndepart not the patent, he promiseth to render himself to \nMr. Stoughton, at his house, to be kept till he be disposed \nof ; and Mr. Hough undertook to satisfy any charge that \nhe, Mr. Stoughton, or the country should be at.\" \n\nUnlike Mrs. Hutchinson and the body of those \nwho were to follow him into banishment, Wheel- \nwright did not direct his steps towards Rhode Island. \nOn the contrary, after preaching a farewell sermon \nto his little congregation, in which there was no word \nof retraction, he turned his face to the northward, \nand with all the courage and tenacity of purpose \nwhich throughout had marked his action, in spite of \nthe inclement season and the impending winter, within \nhis allotted fourteen days he was on his way to the \n\n\n482 V^ VICTIS. Nov. \n\nPiscataqua. He went alone through the deepening \nsnow, which that winter lay from November to the \nend of March '' a yard deep,\" according to Winthrop, \nbeyond the Merrimac, and \"the more north the \ndeeper,\" while the mercury ranged so low that the \nexile himself, with a grim effort at humor, drearily \nremarked that he believed had he been filled with \n\" the very extracted spirits of sedition and contempt, \nthey would have been frozen up and indisposed for \naction.\" ^ Not until April did his wife, bringing with \nher his mother-in-law and their children, undertake to \nfollow him to the spot where he and a few others had \nfounded what has since become the academic town of \nExeter. It is merely curious now to reflect on the \nintense bitterness, and sense of wrong and of unend- \ning persecution which must have nerved the steps of \nthe former vicar of Bilsby, when, at forty-five years \nof age, he turned his back on Mt. Wollaston, and \nsternly sought refuge from his brethren in Christ \namid the snow and ice of bleak, unfertile New Hamp- \nshire. \n\n1 Mercurius Americanus, Bell, 228. \n\n\nCHAPTER VIII. \n\nTHE TRIAL OF A SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY PROPHETESS. \n\nHaving disposed of Wheelwright's case the Gen- \neral Court, without stojiping to take breath, at once \nproceeded to that of Mistress Hutchinson, — '' the \nbreeder and nourisher of all these distempers.\" In \nthe language of the time, she was \"convented for \ntraducing the ministers and their ministry in this \ncountry ; \" and these words most happily set forth \nher offence. It could not be charged against her that \nshe had signed the remonstrance, for her name was \nnot among those appended to it ; she had preached \nno sedition ; being a woman, she could bear no hand \nin any apprehended tumult. She had criticised the \nclergy ; and for that she was now arraigned. \n\nThough, as will presently appear, the proceedings \nwere in no way lacking in interest, there was about \nthem nothing either solemn or imposing. Indeed, \nall the external surroundings, as well as the physi- \ncal conditions, were so very matter-of-fact and harsh, \nthat any attempt at pomp or state would have been \nquite out of keeping ; everything, without as well \nas within, was dreary and repellent, — in a word, \nNew England wintry. The Court was still sitting \nat Newetowne, as it was called ; for the name was \nnot changed to Cambridge until a year later, though \nthe college was at this very session ordered to be \nfixed there. It was a crude, straggling settlement, \n\n\n484 THE TRIAL. Nov. \n\nmade up of some sixty or seventy log-cabins, or \npoor frame-houses, which only eighteen months be- \nfore had been mainly abandoned by their occupants, \nwho, under the lead of their pastor, Thomas Hooker, \nhad then migrated in a body to the banks of the Con- \nnecticut. The Rev. Thomas Shepard, with those who \nhad just come over with him, had bought the empty \ntenements and moved into them. An inscription cut \nin the granite foundation wall of a modern bake- \nhouse, on the busy Mt. Auburn thoroughfare, now \nmarks the spot where the church, or meeting-house \nrather, stood on the upland, not far from the narrow \nfringe of marshes which there skirted the devious \nchannel of the Charles. In front of it ran the main \nvillage street, ending in a foot-bridge leading down \nto low-water mark at the ferry, while a ladder was \nsecured to the steep further bank of the river for \n\"convenience of landing.\" Close to the meeting- \nhouse, but nearer to the ferry, was the dwelling built \nfor himself by Governor Dudley in 1630, and in \nwhich, at the breaking-up of the sh»rp winter of 1631, \nhe wrote his letter to Bridget, Countess of Lincoln, \n\" having got no table, or other room to write in than \nby the fireside upon my knee.\" Laid out with some \nregard for symmetry and orderly arrangement, Newe- \ntowne was looked upon as \" one of the neatest and \nbest compacted towns in New England, having many \nfair structures, with many handsome contrived \nstreets.\" The river being to the south, on the north- \nern side of the village there stretched away a com- \nparatively broad and level plain, covering many \nhundred acres, then used as a common pasture- \nground and fenced in by a paling of a mile and a \nhalf in length. A year or two later, the college build- \n\n\n1637. CAMBRIDGE IN 1637. 486 \n\ning was erected on the southern limit of this plain ; \nwhile a third of a mile or so to the north stood the \ngreat oak under which had been held that May elec- \ntion which resulted in the defeat of Vane, and in \nWinthrop's return to office.^ \n\nOf the meeting-house itself no description has been \npreserved. It seems to have been a rude frame build- \ning, built of rough-hewn boards, the crevices of which \nwere sealed with mud. Its roof, sloping down from \na long ridge-pole, on which was perched a beU, had, \nit is supposed, at first been thatched, but was now \ncovered with slate or boards ; and the narrow dimen- \nsions of the primitive edifice may be inferred from \nthe fact that when, a dozen years afterwards, it no \nlonger sufficed for a prospering community, the new \nand more commodious one which succeeded it was \nbut forty feet square. Such as it was, the meeting- \nhouse was the single building of a public sort in the \nplace, and within it the sessions of the Court were \nnow held, as those of the Synod had been held there \nshortly before. \n\nThe season was one of unusual severity, and the \ndays among the shortest of the year. Though No- \nvember, according to the calendar then in use, was not \nyet half over, there had nearly a week before been a \nconsiderable fall of snow, which still whitened the \nground, while the ice had begun to make, piling it- \nself up along the river's bank.^ No pretence even \nwas made of warming the barrack-like edifice ; and, \ndark at best in the November day, it could not be \n\n^ Hig-^nson, 2o0th Ann. of Cambridge, 48 ; Mackenzie, First Church \nin Cambridge, Lect. II. ; Paige, Cambridge, 18, 37 ; Young, Chron. of \nMass. 402. \n\n2 Winthrop, i. *243-4, *264. \n\n\n486 THE TRIAL. Nov. \n\nlighted at all after dusk. Its furniture consisted \nonly of rude wooden benches, on which the deputies \nand those in attendance sat, and a table and chairs for \nthe Governor and the magistrates. All told, the Court \nconsisted of some forty members, nine of whom were \nmagistrates ; but the little church was thronged, for \nthe outside attendance was large, almost every person \nof note in the province being there. Indeed, nothing \nin the history of Massachusetts, up to this time, had \never excited so great an interest. The clergy, in \npoint of fact not only the prosecutors in the case \nbut also the witnesses against the accused, were neces- \nsarily present in full ranks. Wilson and Cotton \nboth were there from Boston : the former bent on the \nutter destruction of her who, sowing dissension be- \ntween his people and himself, had, with feminine \ningenuity, strewed his path with thorns ; the latter \nnot yet terrified into a complete abandonment of those \nwho looked to him as their mentor. The fanatical \nPeters had come from Salem ; and he and Thomas \nWeld of Roxbury, having been the most active pro- \nmoters of the prosecution, were now to appear as chief \nwitnesses against the accused. With the pastor. \nWeld, had come Eliot, the teacher at Roxbury, — now \nonly thirty-four, and not for nine years yet to begin \nthose labors among the Indians which were to earn \nfor his name the prefix of \"the Apostle.\" He too \nwas unrelenting in his hostility to the new opinions. \nThere also were George Phillips of Watertown, \" one \nof the first saints of New England ; \" ^ Zachariah \n\n^ George Phillips was the common ancestor of that Phillips family \nsubsequently so prominent in the history of Boston. Cotton Mather, \nwith even more than his usual quaintness, says of him that \"he la- \nboured under many bodily infirmities : but was especially liable to \nthe cholick ; the extremity of one fit whereof, was the wind which \n\n\n1637. THE COURT AND CULPRIT. 487 \n\nSymmes of CharlestowD, who himself knew what it \nwas to suffer for \" conscientious nonconformity ; \" \nand finally Thomas Shepard of Cambridge, \" a poore, \nweake, pale-complectioned man\" of thirty-four, but \nyet \" holy, heavenly, sweet-affecting and soul-ravish- \ning.'* And indeed Shepard alone of them all seems to \nhave borne in mind, in the proceedings which were to \nfollow, that charity, long-suffering and forgiveness en- \ntered into the Master's precepts. Winthrop presided \nover the deliberations of the Court, acting at once \nas judge and j^rosecuting attorney. At his side, fore- \nmost among the magistrates, sat Dudley and Endi- \ncott, — men whose rough English nature had been \nnarrowed and hardened by a Puritan education. \n\nSuch was the Court. The culi3rit before it for trial \nwas a woman of some thirty-six or seven years of age. \nSlight of frame, and now in manifestly delicate health, \nthere was in her bearing nothing masculine or defiant ; \nthough, seemingly, she faced a tribunal — in which, \nso far as now appears, she could have found but two \nfriendly faces — with calmness and self-possession. \nShe had no counsel, nor was the trial conducted ac- \ncording to any established rules of procedure. It \nwas a mere hearing in open legislative session. Of \nits details, one — himself an eminent New England \nclergyman not versed in legal technicalities or familiar \nwith rules of evidence or the methods of courts — has \nsaid that the treatment which the accused then under- \nwent \" deserves the severest epithets of censure,\" and \nthat \" the united civil wisdom and Christian piety of \nthe fathers of Massachusetts make but a sorry fig- \ncarried him afore it, into the haven of eternal rest, on July 1, in the \nyear 1044, much desired and lamented by his church at Watertown,\" \nMagnalia, B. lu. oh. iv. § 9 \n\n\n488 THE TRIAL. Nov. \n\nure.\" ^ Certainly, if what there took place had taken \nplace in England at the trial of some patriot or non- \nconformer before the courts — ecclesiastical, civil or \ncriminal — of any of the Stuarts, the historians of \nNew England would not have been sparing in their \ndenunciations. But the record best speaks for itself. \nFrom that record it will appear that the accused, \nunprovided with counsel, was not only examined and \ncross-examined by the magistrates, her judges, but \nbadgered, insulted and sneered at, and made to give \nevidence against herself. The witnesses in her behalf \nwere browbeaten and silenced in careless disregard \nboth of decency and a manly sense of fair play. Her \nfew advocates among the members of the court were \nrudely rebuked, and listened to with an impatience \nwhich it was not attempted to conceal ; while, through- \nout, the so-called trial was, in fact, no trial at all, but \na mockery of justice rather, — a bare-faced inquisito- \nrial proceeding. And all this will appear from the \nrecord. \n\nThe Court met, and presently the accused, in obedi- \nence to its summons, appeared before it. At first, \nthough it must have been manifest she was shortly to \nbecome a mother, she was not even bidden to sit \ndown, but soon \" her countenance discovered some \nbodily infirmity,\" and a chair was provided for her. \n\n^ Dr. George E. Ellis, in the biography of Anne Hutchinson, \n(Sparks' American Biography. N. S. vi. 277.) Dr. Ellis' life of Mrs- \nHutchinson was written in 1845 ; in 1888, after an interval of over \nforty years, he reviewed the whole subject of the Antinomian Contro- \nversy in his work entitled The Puritan Age in Massachusetts (300-62). \nHe there says (336) : — \" We have to fall back upon our profound im- \npressions of the deep sincerity and integrity of [Winthrop's] character \n... to read without some faltering' or misgiving of approval, not to \nsay with regret and reproach, the method with which he conducted \nthe examination of this gifted and troublesome woman.\" \n\n\n1637. THE ACCUSATION. 489 \n\nThe offence of which she had been really guilty, — \nthe breeding of a faction in the Boston church against \nthe pastor, Wilson, and, when his brethren came to \nhis aid, not hesitating to criticise them also, — this \noffence it was somewhat embarrassing to formulate in \nfitting words. It could not well be bluntly charged. \nAVinthrop therefore began with a general arraign- \nment, in which he more particularly accused the pris- \noner of having meetings at her house, \" a thing not \ntolerable nor comely in the sight of God nor fitting \nfor [her] sex ; \" and, further, with justifying Mr. \nWheelwright's Fast-day sermon and the Boston peti- \ntion. Mrs. Hutchinson now showed herself quite able \nto hold her own in the casuistical fence of the time, \nand this part of the case resulted disastrously for the \nprosecution. Indeed, the logic made use of by Win- \nthrop was of a kind which exposed him badly. He \ncontended that the accused had transgressed the law \nof God commanding her to honor her father and \nmother. The magistrates were the fathers of the \ncommonwealth ; and therefore, in adhering to those \nwho signed the remonstrance, even though she did not \nsign it herself, she dishonored the magistrates, and \nwas justly punishable. Coming from the mouth of \nthe Archbishop of Canterbury in 1637 this would be \npronounced sophistical rubbish ; it was equally sophis- \ntical rubbish when uttered by the Governor of Mas- \nsachusetts Bay for the same year. Mrs. Hutchinson \ndisposed of the allegation with dignity and point in \nthese words : — \"I do acknowledge no such thing ; \nneither do I think that I ever put any dishonor upon \nyou.\" \n\nThe next count in the indictment pressed upon her \nrelated to the meetings of women held at her house. \n\n\n490 THE TRIAL. Nor. \n\nHere, too, the prosecution fared badly. Mrs. Hutchin- \nson was asked by what warrant she held such meet- \nings ; she cited in reply the usage which she found \nprevailing in Boston at her coming, and the Scriptural \nrule in the second chapter of Titus, that the elder \nwomen should instruct the younger. The following \naltercation then ensued : — \n\n\" Governor Winthrop. You know that there is no rule \n[in the Scriptures] wliich crosses another ; but this rule [in \nTitus] crosses that in the Corinthians. You must therefore \ntake [the rule in Titus] in this sense, that the elder women \nmust instruct the younger about their business, and to love \ntheir husbands, and not to make them to clash. \n\n\"Mrs. Hutchinson. I do not conceive but that it is \nmeant also for some public times. \n\n*' Governor. Well, have you no more to say but this ? \n\n\" Mrs. H. I have said sufficient for my practice. \n\n\" Governor. Your course is not to be suffered ; for, be- \nsides that we find such a course as this greatly prejudicial to \nthe State, ... we see not that any should have authority \nto set up any other exercises besides what authority hath \nalready set up ; and so what hurt comes of this you will be \nguilty of, and we for suffering you. \n\n\" Mrs. H. Sir, I do not believe that to be so. \n\n\"Governor. Well, we see how it is. We must there- \nfore put it away from you ; or restrain you from maintain- \ning this course. \n\n\" Mrs. H. If you have a rule for it from God's Word, \nyou may. \n\n\" Governor. We are your judges, and not you ours. \nAnd we must compel you to it. \n\n\" Mrs. H. If it please you by authority to put it down, \nI will freely let you. For I am subject to your authority.\" \n\nFor a moment, these words as Winthrop uttered \nthem must have jarred with a strange and yet famil- \n\n\n1637. SNEER AND REJOINDER. 491 \n\niar sound on the ears of the listening clergy, hardly \none of whom had in England escaped being silenced \nby the prelates ; and now they heard the same princi- \nples of rigid conformity laid down in their place of \nrefuge, — freedom of conscience was once for all there \ndenied. The preliminaries were now brought to a \nclose, and the trial proceeded to the real issue in- \nvolved. The charge was explicit. Mrs. Hutchinson, \nit was alleged, had publicly said that Mr. Cotton \nalone of the ministers preached a Covenant of Grace ; \nthe others, not having received the seal of the Spirit, \nwere consequently not able ministers of the New Tes- \ntament, and preached a Covenant of Works. To this \ncount in the indictment against her she was at first \ninvited to plead guilty ; which she declined to do. \nGovernor Winthrop then permitted himself to indulge \nin a sneer, which was met with a prompt and digni- \nfied rejoinder. Both sneer and rejoinder stand thus \nrecorded : — \n\n\"Governor Wixthrop. It is well discerned to the \nCourt that Mrs. Hutchinson can tell when to speak and \nwhen to hold her tongue. Upon the answering of a ques- \ntion which we desire her to tell her thoughts of, she desires \nto be pardoned. \n\n\" Mrs. HuTCHiNSOisr. It is one thing for me to come be- \nfore a public magistracy, and there to speak what they \nwould have me to speak ; and another when a man comes \nto me in a way of friendship, privately. There is a differ- \nence in that.\" \n\nPossibly it was at this point in the trial that, stung \nby Winthrop's slur, the anger of the accused flashed \nup and found expression in hot words ; for Weld tells \nus that once, \" her reputation being a little touched, \n. . . she vented her impatience with so fierce speech \n\n\n492 THE TRIAL. Nov. \n\nand countenance, as one would hardly have guessed \nher to have been an Antitype of Daniel, but rather of \nthe lions, after they were let loose.\" However this \nmay be, the witnesses for the prosecution, Peters, \nWeld, Eliot, Symmes and the others, who up to this \ntime had been watching the case in grim silence, were \nnow called upon, and, one after another, gave their \nevidence. Though the question at issue was sufficiently \nplain, the discussion then soon passed into the un- \nintelligible. It has been seen that, at a certain point \nin the growth of differences in the Boston church, \nthe ministers of the adjoining towns had been called \nupon to interpose, and a conference had then taken \nplace between the two sides, — the visiting elders and \nMr. Wilson representing one, and Mrs. Hutchinson, \nCotton and Wheelwright the other.^ The evidence \nnow given related to what had then taken place. The \nministers all asserted that the conference was a formal \none of a public nature, and so understood at the time. \nThis Mrs. Hutchinson denied, — thus making the \npoint that she had been guilty of no open disparage- \nment of the clergy, but that, whatever she had said, \nhad been drawn from her in private discourse by \nthose now seeking to persecute her for it. As to the \nCovenant of Works, while they asserted that she had \ncharged them with being under such a covenant, she \ninsisted that she had done nothing of the sort ; though \nshe admitted that she probably had said that they \n*' preached a covenant of works, as did the apostles \nbefore the Ascension. But to preach a covenant of \nworks, and to be under a covenant of works, are two \ndifferent things.\" She did not deny that she had \nsingled out Mr. Cotton from among them all as alone \n\n1 Supra, 426-8. \n\n\n1637. THE ROCK OF OFFENCE. 493 \n\nbeing sealed with the seal of the Spirit, and therefore \npreaching a Covenant of Grace, which bit of jargon \nwas explained as meaning that one so sealed enjoyed \na full assurance of God's favor by the Holy Ghost. \nHere at last, in this special assurance attributed to \nCotton, was the rock of offence from which flowed \nthose waters of bitterness, the cup of which Wilson \nand Weld and Peters and the rest had been forced to \ndrain to the last drop. A woman's preference among \npreachers was somehow to be transmuted into a crime \nagainst the state. \n\nIt would be neither easy nor profitable to attempt \nto follow the trial into the metaphysico-theological \nstage to which it now passed. Cotton Mather says \nthat \" the mother opinion of the [Antinomian heresy] \nwas, that a Christian should not fetch any evidence of \nhis good state before God, from the sight of any in- \nherent qualification in him ; or from any conditional \npromise made unto such a qualification.\" ^ This being \nthe mother opinion, and itself not translucent, all the \nparties to the proceedings now began to obscure it by \ntalking about \" witnesses of the spirit \" and \" the seal \nof the spirit,\" and \" a broad seal \" and \" a little seal,\" \nand the \" assurance of God's favor \" and \" the graces \nwanting to evidence it,\" and \" the difference between \nthe state of the apostles before the Ascension, and \ntheir state after it.\" The real difficulty lay in the \nfact that the words and phrases to which they attached \nan all-important significance did not admit of defini- \ntion, and, consequently, were devoid of exact meaning. \nThey were simply engaged in hot wrangling over the \nunknowable : but, while Court and clergy and accused \nwallowed and floundered in the mire of their own \n\n1 Magnalia^ B. iii. P. ii. ch. v. § 12. \n\n\n494 THE TRIAL. Nov. \n\nlearning, belaboring each other with contradictory \ntexts and with shadowy distinctions, under it all there \nlay the hard substratum of injured pride and per- \nsonal hate ; and on that, as on the rock of ages, their \nfirm feet rested secure. \n\nSix of the ministers testified in succession, Hugh \nPeters first. Their evidence was tolerably concurrent \nthat Mrs. Hutchinson had at the Boston church con- \nference spoken freely, saying that they all taught a \nCovenant of Works, — that they were not able minis- \nters of the New Testament, not being sealed, — and, \nfinally, that Mr. Cotton alone among them preached a \nCovenant of Grace. This testimony, and the subse- \nquent wrangle, occupied what remained of the first \nday of the trial, before the growing dusk comi^elled \nan adjournment. The next morning, as soon as Gov- \nernor Winthrop had opened the hearing, Mrs. Hutch- \ninson stated that, since the night before, she had \nlooked over certain notes which had been taken at \nthe time of the conference, and that she did \"find \nthings not to be as hath been alleged,\" and accord- \ningly she now demanded that, as the ministers were \ntestifying in their own cause, they should do so under \noath. This demand caused much excitement in the \nCourt, and was looked upon as a fresh insult heaped \nupon the clergy. Winthrop held that, the case not \nbeing one for a jury, the evidence need not be under \noath ; while other of the magistrates thought that, in \na cause exciting so much interest, sworn testimony \nwould better satisfy the country. The accused in- \nsisted. \"An oath, sir,\" she exclaimed to Stoughton, \n\" is an end of all strife ; and it is God's ordinance.\" \nThen Endicott broke in sneeringly : — \"A sign it is \nwhat respect she has to [the ministers'] words ; \" and \n\n\n1637. THE MINISTERS SWORN. 495 \n\npresently again : — \" You lifted up your eyes as if \nyou took God to witness you came to entrap none, — \nand yet you will have them swear ! \" Finally, Win- \nthrop, that all might be satisfied, expressed himself as \nwilling to administer the oath if the elders would take \nit ; though, said he, '^ I see no necessity of an oath in \nthis thing, seeing it is true and the substance of the \nmatter confirmed by divers.\" The deputy-governor, \nDudley, then turned the discussion off by crying out : \n— \" Mark what a flourish Mrs. Hutchinson puts upon \nthe business that she had witnesses to disprove what \nwas said ; and here is no man in Court I \" To which \nbit of characteristic brutality the accused seems quietly \nto have rejoined by saying : — \" If you will not call \nthem in, that is nothing to me.\" \n\nThe ministers now professed themselves as ready \nto be sworn. At this point Mr. Coggeshall, the dis- \nmissed delegate from Boston, apparently with a view \nto preventing a conflict of evidence, ventured to sug- \ngest to the Court that the ministers should confer \nwith Cotton before testifying. The suggestion was \nnot well received, and Mr. Coggeshall found himself \nsummarily suppressed ; indeed, three of the judges \ndid not hesitate to deliver themselves in respect to \nhim and the accused as follows : — \n\n\" Governor Wixthrop. Shall we not believe so many \ngodly elders, in a cause wherein we know the mind of the \nparty without their testimony ? \n\n\" Mr. Endicott (addressing Mr. Coggeshall). I will \ntell you what I say. I think that this carriage of yours \ntends to further casting dirt upon the face of the judges. \n\n\" Mr. Harlakexdex. Her carriage doth the same. For \nshe doth not object an essential thing ; but she goes upon \ncircumstances, — and yet would have them sworn ! \" \n\n\n496 THE TRIAL. Nov. \n\nBut before the elders were again called on to testify, \nMrs. Hutchinson was told to produce her own wit- \nnesses. Of these Mr. Coggeshall was one. He rose \nwhen his name was called, and his examination is re- \nported in full and as follows : — \n\n\" Govp:rxor Winthrop. Mr. Coggeshall was not pres- \nent [at the conference between Mrs. Hutchinson and the \nelders]. \n\n\" Mr. Coggeshall. Yes, but I was. Only I desired \nto be silent till I should be called [to testify]. \n\n\" Go\\Ti:RXOR. Will you, Mr. Coggeshall, say that she \ndid not say [what has been testified to] ? \n\n\" Mr. Coggeshall. Yes. I dare say that she did not \nsay all that which they lay against her. \n\n\"Mr. Peters (interrupting). How dare you look into \n[the face of] the Court to say such a word. \n\n\" Mr. Coggeshall. Mr. Peters takes upon him to for- \nbid me. I shaU be silent.\" \n\nThe first witness for the defence having been thus \neffectually disposed of, the second, Mr. Leverett, was \ncalled. He testified that he was present at the dis- \ncussion between the ministers and Mrs. Hutchinson ; \nthat Mr. Peters had then, \"with much vehemency \nand intreaty,\" urged the accused to specify the differ- \nence between his own teachings and those of Mr. Cot- \nton ; and, in reply, she had stated the difference to be \nin the fact that, just as the Apostles themselves be- \nfore the Ascension had not received the seal of the \nSpirit, so Peters and his brethren, not having the \nsame assurance of God's favor as Mr. Cotton, could \nnot preach a Covenant of Grace so clearly as he. \nWhen he had finished his statement a brief alterca- \ntion took place between Weld and Mrs. Hutchinson, \nat the close of which Governor Winthrop called on \n\n\n1637. MISMANAGEMENT. 497 \n\nMr. Cotton to give his recollection of what had taken \nplace. \n\nMrs. Hutchinson had been less fortunate in her \nmanagement of the latter than of the earlier portions \nof her case. Since the question had turned on what \ntook place at the conference, she had found herself \npressed by evidence, and beyond her depth. As is \napt to be the case with voluble persons under such \ncircumstances, she had then had recourse to small \npoints, — making issues over the order in which \nevents occurred, or the exact words used, and press- \ning meaningless distinctions, — cavilling even, and \nequivocating. By so doing she had injured her case, \ngiving Peters a chance to exclaim : — \" We do not \ndesire to be so narrow to the Court and the gentle- \nwoman about times and seasons, whether first or \nlast ; \" while Harlakenden had, as it has been seen, \nbroken out in disgust : — \" She doth not object any \nessential thing, but she goes upon circumstances.\" \nThe demand that the ministers should be sworn was \nanother mistake. It was an affront to the elders, \nthe most revered class in the community, and it both \nangered them and shocked the audience. A blas- \nphemy would hardly have angered or shocked them \nmore. Not only did it excite sympathy for the prose- \ncutors and prejudice against the accused, but there \nwas nothing to be gained by it. The ministers had \nnot given false testimony; and she knew it. The \nonly result, therefore, of her demand of an oath was \nthat they gave their testimony twice instead of once, \nand insomuch impressed it the more on the minds \nand memories of all. Mrs. Hutchinson, consequently, \nwas fast doing the work of the prosecution, and con- \nvicting herself. \n\n\n498 THE TRIAL. Nov. \n\nBut her cause now passed into far abler bands. \nCotton's sympathies were strongly with her, and he \nseems to have been quite ready to show it. When \ncalled upon to listen to the evidence of his brethren, \nhe had seated himself by Mrs. Hutchinson's side ; \nand he now rose in answer to Winthrop's summons, \nand proceeded to give his account of what had passed \nat the conference. Silencing the accused and soothing \nthe Court, he soon showed very clearly that the qualities \nwhich made him an eminent pulpit orator would also \nhave made him an excellent jury lawyer. With no \nlittle ingenuity and skill he went on explaining things \naway, and putting a new gloss upon them, until, when \nhe got through, the prosecution had very little left to \nwork on. In summing up, he said that at the close \nof the conference it had not seemed to him \" to be \nso ill taken as [now] it is. And our brethren did \nsay, also, that they would not so easily believe reports \nas they had done ; and, withal, mentioned that they \nwould speak no more of it. And afterwards some of \nthem did say they were less satisfied than before. \nAnd I must say that I did not find her saying they \nwere under a Covenant of Works, nor that she said \nthey did preach a Covenant of Works.\" \n\nA discussion then ensued between Cotton and the \nother ministers, — calm in outward tone, but, on their \npart at least, full of suppressed feeling. Peters took \nthe lead in it ; but even he was not equal to an at- \ntempt at browbeating the renowned teacher of the \nBoston church from the witness-stand, as he had \nbrowbeaten Coggeshall from it a few minutes before. \nFinally Dudley put this direct question : — \" They \naffirm that Mrs. Hutchinson did say they were not \nable ministers of the New Testament.\" It touched \n\n\n1637. ''OUT OF HER OWN MOUTHS 499 \n\nthe vital point in the accusation. The whole audience \nmust have awaited the response in breathless silence. \nIt came in these words : — \" I do not remember it.\" \n\nThe prosecution had broken down. It apparently \nonly remained to let the accused go free, or to con- \ndemn and punish her on general principles, in utter \ndisregard of law and evidence. Silence and discre- \ntion alone were now needed in the conduct of the \ndefence. Then it was that, in the triumphant words \nof her bitterest enemy, \" her own mouth \" delivered \nAnne Hutchinson \" into the power of the Court, as \nguilty of that which all suspected her for, but were \nnot furnished with proof sufficient to proceed against \nher.\" But modern paraphrase cannot here equal the \nterse, quaint language of the original reports. Cot- \nton had just sat down, after giving his answer to \nDudley 's question. Some among the audience were \ndrawing a deep breath of relief, while others of the \nmagistrates and clergy were looking at one another \nin surprise and dismay. The record then goes on as \nfollows : — \n\n\" Upon this she began to speak her mind, and to tell of \nthe manner of God's dealing with her, and how he revealed \nhimself to her, and made her know what she had to do. \nThe Governor perceiving whereabout she went, interrupted \nher, and would have kept her to the matter in hand ; but, \nseeing her very unwilling to be taken off, he permitted her \nto proceed. Her speech was to this effect : — \n\n\" ' When I was in old England I was much troubled at \nthe constitution of the churches there, — so far troubled, \nindeed, that I had liked to have turned Separatist. Where- \nupon I set apart a day of solemn humiliation by myself, \nthat I might ponder of the thing and seek direction from \nGod. And on that day God discovered unto me the un- \n\n\n500 THE TRIAL. Nov. \n\nfaithfulness of the churches, and the danger of them, and \nthat none of those Ministers could preach the Lord Jesus \naright ; for he brought to my mind this scripture : — \" And \nevery spirit that confesseth not that Jesus Christ is come in \nthe flesh is not of God ; and this is that spirit of antichrist, \nwhereof ye have heard that it should come ; and even now \nalready it is in the world.\" I marvelled what this should \nmean ; and in considering I found that the Papists did not \ndeny that Christ was come in the flesh, nor did we deny it. \nWho then was antichrist ? Was it the Turk only ? Now I \nhad none to open scripture to me but the Lord. He must \nbe the prophet. And it pleased the Lord then to bring to \nmy mind another scripture : — \" For where a testament is, \nthere must also of necessity be the death of the testator ; \" \nand he that denies the testament denies the death of the \ntestator. And in this the Lord did open unto me and give \nme to see that every one that did not preach the new cove- \nnant denies the death of the testator, and has the spirit of \nantichrist. And upon this it was revealed unto me that the \nministers of England were these antichrists. But I knew \nnot how to bear this ; I did in my heart rise uj) against it. \nThen I begged of the Lord this atheism might not be in me. \nAfter I had begged for light a twelve-month together, the \nLord at last let me see how I did oppose Christ Jesus, and \nhe revealed to me that scripture in Isaiah : — \" Hearken \nunto me ye that are far from righteousness : I brmg near \nmy righteousness ; it shall not be far off, and my salva- \ntion shall not tarry ; \" and from thence he showed me the \natheism of my own heart, and how I did turn in upon a \nCovenant of Works, and did oppose Christ Jesus. And \never since I bless the Lord, — he hath let me see which was \nthe clear ministry and which the wi-ong, and to know what \nvoice I heard, — which was the voice of Moses, which of \nJohn Baptist, and which of Christ. The voice of my be- \nloved I have distinguished from the voice of strangers. \nAnd thenceforth I was more choice whom I heard ; for, \n\n\n1G37. <^ TAKE HEED!'' 501 \n\nafter our teacher, Mr. Cotton, and my brother Wheelwright \nwere put down, there was none in England that I durst \nhear. Then it pleased God to reveal himself to me in that \nscripture of Isaiah : — \" And though the Lord give you the \nbread of adversity and the water of affliction, yet shall not \nthy teachers be removed into a corner any more, but thine \neyes shall see thy teachers.\" The Lord giving me this \npromise, and Mr. Cotton being gone to New England, I \nwas much troubled. And it was revealed to me that I must \ngo thither also, and that there I should be persecuted and \nsuffer much trouble. I will give you another scripture : — \n\" Fear thou not, O Jacob my servant, saith the Lord : for I \nam with thee ; for I will make a full end of all the nations \nwhither I have driven thee : but I will not make a full end \nof thee ; \" and then the Lord did reveal himself to me, sit- \nting upon a Throne of Justice, and all the world appearing \nbefore him, and, though I must come to New England, yet \nI must not fear nor be dismayed. And I could not be at \nrest but I must come hither. The Lord brought another \nscripture to me : — \" For the Lord spake thus to me with \na strong hand, and instructed me that I should not walk in \nthe way of this people.\" \n\n'• ' I will give you one more place which the Lord brought \nto me by immediate revelations ; and that doth concern you \nall. It is in the sixth chapter of Daniel. When the Presi- \ndents and Princes could find nothing against Daniel, be- \ncause he was faithfull, they sought matter against him con- \ncerning the Law of his God, to cast him into the lions' den. \nSo it was revealed to me that they should plot against me ; \nthe Lord bade me not to fear, for he that delivered Daniel \nand the three children, his hand was not shortened. And, \nbehold ! this scripture is fulfilled this day in my eyes. \nTherefore take heed what ye go about to do unto me. You \nhave power over my body, but the Lord Jesus hath power \nover my body and soul ; neither can you do me any harm, \nfor I am in the hands of the eternal Jehovah, my Saviour. \n\n\n502 THE TRIAL. Nov. \n\nI am at his appointment, for the bounds of my habitation \nare cast in Heaven, and no further do I esteem of any mor- \ntal man than creatures in his hand. I fear none but the \ngreat Jehovah, which hath foretold me of these things, and \nI do verily believe that he will deliver me out of your \nhands. Therefore take heed how you proceed against me ; \nfor I know that for this you go about to do to me, God will \nruin you and your posterity, and this whole State.' \n\n\" Mr. Nowell. How do you know that it was God that \ndid reveal these things to you, and not Satan ? \n\n\" Mrs. Hutchixsox. How did Abraham know that it \nwas God that bid him offer his son, being a breach of the \nsixth commandment ? \n\n\" Deputy-Governor Dudley. By an immediate voice. \n\n\" Mrs. Hutchinson. So to me by an immediate revela- \ntion. \n\n\" Deputy-Governor. How ! an immediate revelation? \n\n\" Mrs. Hutchinson. By the voice of his own spirit to \nmy soul. \n\n\" Governor \"Winthrop. Daniel was delivered by mira- \ncle ; do you think to be delivered so too ? \n\n\" Mrs. Hutchinson. I do here speak it before the \nCourt. I look that the Lord should deliver me by his \nprovidence.\" ^ \n\nAt once, the current of the trial now took a new \ndirection. The dangerous topics of special revelation \nand miraculous action had been opened up. The \nfeeling which existed with respect to these in the \nPuritanic mind has already been referred to.^ That \n\n1 The utterances of Mrs. Hutchinson as here given are taken from \nboth reports of the trial. That in the Short Story is at this stage \nmuch the more detailed, and it is supplemented by that in Hutchin- \nson's History. Thoug-h in this narrative the two reports have been \nwoven into one, nothing- has been interpolated, and the original phrases \nand forms of expression have all been carefully preserved. Some of \nthe texts sug-g-est doubts as to the accuracy of the reports. \n\n2 Supra, 387-9. \n\n\n1637. MIRACLES AND REVELATIONS. 503 \n\nit was illogical did not matter. It was there. No one \nfor an instant doubted the immediate presence of the \nAlmighty, or his care of his Chosen People, or his \nSpecial Providences which they so much loved to note. \nIn the minds of Winthrop or Dudley or Endicott, to \nquestion that He was there at that trial in the Cam- \nbridge meeting-house, guiding every detail of their \nproceedings, would have fallen but little short of blas- \nphemy. Had it chanced to thunder during those \nNovember days, or had the Northern Lights flashed \nsomewhat brighter than was their wont. His voice \nwould have been heard therein, and His hand seen. \nThey fully believed that in the ordinary events of \ndaily life He shielded some, while on others He vis- \nited His wrath. But, when it came to revelations \nand miracles, they drew the line distinctly and deej). \nSpecial Providences ? yes ! Miracles ? — no ! Por- \ntents?— yes! Revelations? — no! Mrs. Hutchinson \naccordingly had now opened the vials of puritanic \nwrath, and they were freely emptied upon her head. \nNor were they emptied on her head alone. Cotton \nhimself was no longer spared. At first he took no \npart in the broken and heated discussion which fol- \nlowed the prophetic and defiant outpouring of the \naccused, but some allusion to him was soon made, and \nthen Endicott called on \" her reverend teacher . . . \nto speak freely whether he doth condescend to such \nspeeches or revelations as have been here spoken of.\" \n\nCotton in reply endeavored to discriminate between \nutterances which were \" fantastical and leading to \ndanger,\" and those which came \" flying upon the \nwings of the spirit.\" As to miracles, he said that he \nwas not sure that he understood Mrs. Hutchinson ; \nbut, he added : — \"If she doth expect a deliverance \n\n\n504 THE TRIAL. Nov. \n\nin a way of Providence, then I cannot deny it.\" Here \nDudley interposed, exclaiming : — \" No, sir, we did \nnot speak of that.\" Cotton then added : — \"If it be \nby way of miracle, then I would suspect it.\" Later \non he again recurred to the subject, now speaking \nof miracles and \" revelations without the Word \" as \nthings he could not assent to and looked upon as de- \nlusions ; adding kindly, \" and I think so doth she too, \nas I understand her.\" Then Dudley broke rudely in, \nremarking : — \" Sir, you weary me and do not satisfy \nme.\" The current had now set strongly in one direc- \ntion, and Cotton was not only powerless to stem it, \nbut was indeed in some danger, as Dudley's remark \nshowed, of himself being swept away by it. All pre- \ntence of an orderly conduct of proceedings was aban- \ndoned, and magistrates, clergy and deputies vied with \neach other in denunciation and invective, Winthrop \nhimself setting the bad example. \n\n\" Governor Winthrop. The case is altered and wlQ \nnot stand with us now, but I see a marvellous providence of \nGod [it will be remembered that the offence of the accused \nwas looking for a deliverance through a 'providence of \nGod'] to bring things to this pass that they are. We have \nbeen hearkening about trial of this thing, and now the \nmercy of God by a providence hath answered our desires \nand made her to lay open herself and the ground of all \nthese disturbances to be by revelations, . . . and this hath \nbeen the ground of all these tumults and troubles ; and I \nwould that those were all cut off from us that trouble us, \nf jr this is the thing that hath been the root of all the mis- \nchief. . . . Aye ! it is the most desperate enthusiasm in the \nworld, for nothing but a word comes to her mind, and then \nan application is made which is nothing to the purpose, and \nthis is her revelations I . . \n\n\" Mr. Nowell. T think it is a devihsh delusion. \n\n\n1637. '^ DESPERATE ENTHUSIASM.\" 505 \n\n\" Governor TVixthrop. Of all the revelations that ever \nI read of, I never read the like ground raised as is for this. \nThe Enthusiasts and Anabaptists had never the like. . . . \n\n\" Deputy-Governor Dudley. I never saw such revela- \ntions as these among the Anabaptists ; therefore am sorry \nthat Mr. Cotton should stand to justify her. \n\n'' Mr. Peters. I can say the same, and this runs to \nenthusiasm, and I think that is very disputable which our \nbrother Cotton hath spoken. . . . \n\n'• Go\\TERNOR WiNTHROP. It overthrows all. \n\n\" Deputy-Governor Dudley. These disturbances that \nhave come among the Germans have been all grounded \nupon revelations ; and so they that have vented them have \nstirred up their hearers to take up arms against their prince \nand to cut the throats of one another ; and these have been \nthe fruits of them. And whether the devil may inspire the \nsame into their hearts here I know not ; for I am fully per- \nsuaded that Mrs. Hutchinson is deluded by the devil, be- \ncause the spirit of God speaks truth in all his servants. \n\n\" Governor Winthrop. I am persuaded that the reve- \nlation she brings forth is delusion. \n\n\" All the Court but some two or three ministers here \ncried out, — We all believe it ! We all believe it ! ! . . . \n\n\" Mr. Bartholomew. My wife hath said that Mr. \nWheelwright was not acquainted with this way until that \nshe imparted it unto him. \n\n\" Mr. Brown. ... I think she deserves no less a censure \nthan hath been already passed, but rather something more ; \nfor this is the foundation of all mischief ; and of all those \nbastardly things which have been overthrown by that great \nmeeting [the Synod]. They have all come out from this \ncursed fountain.\" \n\nThe Governor now forthwith proceeded to put the \nquestion. As he was in the midst of doing it, Mr. \nCoddington, who had hitherto preserved silence, arose \nand asked to be heard. Referring then to the meet- \n\n\n606 THE TRIAL. Nov. \n\nings at Mrs. Hutchinson's house, he asked whether, \nsupposing those meetings to have been designed for \nthe religious edification of her own family, no others \nmight have been present? \"If,\" replied Winthrop, \n\" you have nothing else to say but that, it is pity, Mr. \nCoddington, that you should interrupt us in proceed- \ning to censure.\" But Coddington on this occasion \nshowed true courage ; for, though in a hopeless minor- \nity, he went on — undeterred by Winthrop's rebuke, \nand regardless of the impatience of his weary and \nexcited audience — to point out that absolutely no- \nthing had been proved against Mrs. Hutchinson, ex- \ncept that she had asserted the other ministers did not \nteach a Covenant of Grace so clearly as Cotton, and \nthat they were in the state of the apostles before the \nAscension. \" Why ! \" he added, \" I hope this may \nnot be offensive nor any wrong to them.\" \n\nThen again Winthrop broke in, declaring that her \nown speech, just made in Court, afforded ample \nground to proceed upon, even admitting that nothing \nhad been proved. Coddington then closed with these \nforcible and eloquently plain words : — \n\n\" I beseech you do not speak so to force things along ; \nfor I do not for my own part see any equity in the Court in \nall your proceedings. Here is no law of God that she hath \nbroken ; nor any law of the country that she hath broken. \nTherefore she deserves no censure. Be it granted that \nMrs. Hutchinson did say the elders preach as the apostles \ndid, — why, they preached a Covenant of Grace. What \nwrong then is that to the elders? It is without question \nthat the apostles did preach a Covenant of Grace before \nthe Ascension, though not with that power they did after \nthey received the manifestation of the spirit. Therefore, \nI pray consider what you do, for here is no law of God or \nman broken.\" \n\n\n1037. \n\n\nTHE SENTENCE. 507 \n\n\nThe Court had now been many hours in unbroken \nsession. The members of it were so exhausted and \nhungry that Dudley impatiently exclaimed : — \" We \nshall all be sick with fasting ! \" Nevertheless the \nintervention of Coddington, and the scruples of one \nor two of the deputies, led to the swearing of two of \nthe witnesses for the prosecution, and the colleagues, \nWeld and Eliot, were called upon by the Governor to \ntake the oath. When they rose and held up their \nhands, Peters rose and held up his hand also. They \ntestified again that at the meeting in Boston the ac- \ncused had said there was a broad difference between \nCotton and themselves, — that he preached a Cove- \nnant of Grace, and they of Works, and that they were \nnot sealed ; and, added Eliot, \" I do further remem- \nber this also, that she said we were not able ministers \nof the gospel, because we were but like the apostles \nbefore the Ascension.\" \"This,\" said Coddington, \n\" was I hope no disparagement to you. Methinks \nthe comparison is very good.\" And Winthrop then \ninterjected : — \" Well, we see in the Court that she \ndoth continually say and unsay things.\" \n\nThe hesitating deputies now pronounced themselves \nfully satisfied, and Winthrop put the question. The \nrecord closes as follows : — \n\n\"Governor Winthrop. The Court hath already de- \nclared themselves satisfied concerning the things you hear, \nand concerning the troublesomeness of her spirit, and the \ndanger of her course amongst us, which is not to be suf- \nfered. Therefore if it be the mind of the Court that Mrs. \nHutchinson, for these things that appear before us, is unfit \nfor our society, — and if it be the mind of the Court that \nshe shall be banished out of our liberties, and imprisoned \ntill she be sent away, let them hold up their hands. \n\n\n508 THE TRIAL. Nov. \n\n\" All but tliree held up their hands. \n\n\" Those that are contrary minded hold up yours. \n\n''Mr. Coddington and Mr. Colburn only. \n\n\" Mr. Jexxisox. I cannot hold up my hand one way or \nthe other, and I shall give my reason if the Court require it. \n\n\" Governor Winthrop. Mrs. Hutchinson, you hear the \nsentence of the Court. It is that you are banished from \nout our jurisdiction as being a woman not fit for our so- \nciety. And you are to be imprisoned till the Court send \nyou away. \n\n*' ]Mrs. Hutchinson. I desire to know wherefore I am \nbanished. \n\n\" Governor Winthrop. Say no more. The Court \nknows wherefore, and is satisfied.\" \n\nIn the Colony Records of Massachusetts the sen- \ntence reads as follows : — \n\n\" Mrs. Hutchinson, (the wife of Mr. William Hutchin- \nson,) being convented for traducing the ministers, and their \nministry in this country, shee declared voluntarily her reve- \nlations for her ground, and that shee should bee delivred, \nand the Court* ruined, with their posterity ; and thereupon \nwas banished, and the mean while was committed to Mr. \nJoseph Weld untill the Court shall dispose of her.\" \n\n\nCHAPTER IX. \n\nTHE EXCOMMUNICATION. \n\nThe case of Wheelwright had been disposed of by \nthe Court on what was then the 4th and is now the \n14th of the month, while that of Mrs. Hutchinson \nhad occupied the 7th and 8th, now the 17th and 18th. \nDuring the i^roceedings in the latter case Wheel- \nwright was at his home at the Mount, and it is small \nmatter for surprise that when he heard of them he \nmade haste to quit the soil of Massachusetts. Less \nable to face a winter in the wilderness, Mrs. Hutchin- \nson was to wait until spring, not in Boston at her own \nhouse and among friends and sympathizers, but at \nRoxbury, under the watch and w^ard of Thomas Weld, \nin the house of his brother Joseph. The remaining \nevents of the controversy can be quickly narrated. \n\nImmediately after passing sentence on Mistress \nHutchinson, the Court, worn out with excitement, \nlong sessions, cold and fasting, seems to have in- \ndidged itself in a recess of several days. It met again \non the ^, and, refreshed by the brief cessation from \nlabor, took up its work vigorously at the point where \nit had been dropped. The sergeants, -who in the pre- \nvious May had laid down their halberds when Vane \nfailed of his reelection, and had refused to attend \nWinthrop home, were \" convented.\" The names of \nboth were '' on the seditious libel called a remon- \nstrance or petition.\" They were discharged from \n\n\n510 THE EXCOMMUNICATION. Nov. \n\noffice, disfranchised, and fined respectively twenty and \nforty pounds. One of them, Edward Hutchinson, — \nhe who was fined forty pounds, — turned himself con- \ntemptuously when his sentence was pronounced, tell- \ning the Court that if they took away his means they \nmust support his family. He was promptly impris- \noned ; but, after a night's reflection, humbled himself \nand was released. William Balston, the other, was \napparently a man of the outspoken English type, \nwith the courag-e of his convictions. AVhen con- \nfronted with his signature to the petition he at once \nacknowledged it, and bluntly told the Court \" that he \nknew that if such a petition had been made in any \nother place in the world, there would have been no \nfault found with it.\" Subsequently the fines of both \nwere remitted on condition they departed the prov- \nince ; and they were among those who the next March \nwent to Khode Island. \n\nOne after another the signers of the Boston remon- \nstrance of the previous March were then summoned \nto the bar of the Court. The choice offered them was \nsimple, — they could acknowledge themselves in fault \nand withdraw their names from the offensive docu- \nment, or they could pass under the ban of the law. \nA few, some ten in number, recanted ; some five or \nsix of the more obdurate were at once disfranchised. \nAmong these was John Underbill, then captain of the \ntrain-band and a salaried officer of the colony. The \norder now made by the Court in regard to him was \nter^ and did not admit of misconstruction. It ran \nin these words, — '' Capt. Underbill, being convicted \nfor having his hand to the seditious writing, is dis- \nfranchised, and put from the captains place \" ; but \nten months were yet to elapse before he was banished. \n\n\n1637. THE PROSCRIPTION. 511 \n\nThroughout, UnderhilFs case was peculiar, and, as will \npresently be seen, the solemn way in which Win- \nthrop recorded the man's religious buffoonery throws \na gleam of genuine humor over one page at least of \na dreary record. \n\nThough not now banished, Underhill's name heads \nthe list of the \" opinionists \" of Boston, fifty-eight in \nall, who were, at the same November session of the \nCourt which banished Wheelwright and Mrs. Hutch- \ninson, ordered within ten days to bring their arms to \nthe house of Captain Robert Keayne, and there de- \nliver them up to him. Besides the fifty-eight in \nBoston, seventeen others, in five different towns, — \nin all seventy-five persons, — the recognized leaders \nof the minority, were disarmed, and, under a heavy \nmoney penalty, forbidden to buy, to borrow or to have \nin their possession either weapon or ammunition, \nuntil the Court should take further action. The \nground for this measure, in which the agitation cul- \nminated, was set forth in the order promulgating it. \nIt was a ^' just cause of suspition, that they, as others \nin German}^ in former times, may, upon some revela- \ntion, make some suddaine irruption upon those that \ndiffer from them in judgment.\" The decree, needless \nto say, excited deep indignation among those named \nin it. It was in fact a mild proscription. Those \nproscribed were powerless, and they proved them- \nselves law-abiding. In the words of Winthrop, — \n\" When they saw no remed}^ they obeyed.\" \n\nPlainly, also, there was \" no remedy.\" Throughout \nall the proceedings which had taken place, the Boston \nchurch had been the stronghold of the secular faction \nin the state ; and now even when generally disarmed \n\n\n512 THE EXCOMMUNICATION. \n\nmarked for exile, there were those in it who were \nearnest to have their brother Winthrop called to \naccount and dealt with in a church way for his course \nas governor. Obviously, such an attempt would only \nhave made matters worse, and those of the elders, to \nwhom appeal had been made, showed no zeal in their \naction, — they were not forward in the matter. Then \nWinthrop, fully understanding the situation, wisely as \nwell as boldly took the initiative, making a formal \naddress to the congregation. In this he laid down \nthe correct rule clearly and forcibly, with numerous \nscriptural references to chapter and verse in Luke and \nMatthew, and fortifying himself with precedents drawn \nfrom the action in similar circumstances of Uzzia and \nAsa and Salam : — if a magistrate, he said, acting \nin his private capacity, should take away the goods \nof another, or despoil his servant, the church could \nproperly call him to account for so doing ; yet if he \nwas guilty of such conduct in his official character, he \nwas not accountable to the church, no matter how \nunjust his action might be. In the present case, the \nGovernor went on to declare, whatever he had done \nhad been done by him with the advice and under the \ndirection of Cotton and other of the church's elders, \nand he would now give but a single reason in his own \njustification, — that single reason was that the breth- \nren singled out for exile were so divided from the rest \nof the country in their judgment and practice that \ntheir presence in the community was, in his opinion, \nnot consistent with the public peace. \" So, by the \nexample of Lot in Abraham's family, and after Hagar \nand Ishmael, he saw they must be sent away.\" \n\nThis action and discourse of Winthrop's was not \nwithout importance, and it bore fruit ; for it was the \n\n\n1637. ^'HAGAR AND ISHMAEL.\" 513 \n\ntheocratic period in Massachusetts, and the church \nwas too much inch'ned to meddle in the affairs of state. \nThe clergy were now supreme. They had converted \nthe General Court into a mere machine for the civil \nenforcement of their own inquisitorial decrees ; Mrs. \nHutchinson had been banished for *' traducing the \nministers,\" and it was not proposed to allow further \nfreedom of relio:ious thouo:ht in Massachusetts. It \nwas the clergy, not the churches, who constituted the \npower behind the throne. The principle that the \nmagistrate was not amenable to the church for acts \ndone in his official capacity was sound, and could be \nmost appropriately asserted by one speaking with \nauthority. The enunciation of the further principle, \nthat the magistrate should be equally free from what \nmay be called a politico-theological coercion, whether \nexercised by priests or ministers, was unfortunately \ndeferred to a long subsequent period. \n\nMrs. Hutchinson meanwhile, separated from her \nfamily, was wearing away the long winter in semi- \nimprisonment at Roxbury. At first she labored under \na good deal of mental depression, natural enough \nunder the circumstances ; for not only must the re- \naction from the excitement of the trial have been \ngreat, but she was soon fe) give birth to a child. Her \ndespondency did not last long ; and, indeed, she was \nnow thoroughly in her element. Though secluded \nfrom the rest of the world for fear of the injury she \nmight do in the way of spreading pernicious heresies, \nshe was still the most noted woman in the province ; \nand as such she was hterally beset by the clergy, and \nby Mr. Thomas Weld in particular. They were far \nfrom being done with her yet. After the manner \nof their kind also, in every age and in all countries, \n\n\n514 THE EXCOMMUNICATION. 1637-8. \n\nthe Massachusetts ministers, having secured an abso- \nlute supremacy in the state, were now busy hunting \nout \" foul errors \" about inherent righteousness, the \nimmortality of the soul, the resurrection, the sanctity \nof the Sabbath, etc., etc., such heresies being very \nrife ; for, as Winthrop sagely observed, it could not \nbe expected that \" Satan would lose the opportunity \nof making choice of so fit an instrument [as Mistress \nHutchinson], so long as any hope remained to attain \nhis mischievous end in darkenino- the savino^ truth of \nthe Lord Jesus, and disturbing the peace of his \nchurches.\" It was now that Cotton not only aban- \ndoned his old allies to their fate, but became one of \ntheir leading persecutors. He probably knew his \nbrethren. At the trial at Cambridge he had seen it \nwanted but little to cause Peters and Weld to throw \noff all restraint, and open the cry on him as they had \nupon Wheelwright. Indeed both Endicott and Dud- \nley had there addressed him in a way he was little \naccustomed to, using language both insulting and \nbrow-beating ; while Winthrop, on one occasion at \nleast, seemed to feel the necessity of diverting atten- \ntion from him.^ Having at the close of the Synod \nceased from all antagonism to his brethren. Cotton \nhad since sought to occupy a fieutral attitude as peace- \nmaker. He now realized that this was not enough. \nHe had professed he was persuaded ; he must furnish \nproof of it by works also. He made up his mind to \ndo it. One feeble effort, as will be seen, he yet made \nin behalf of Mrs. Hutchinson, and it was creditable to \nhim ; in other respects, from this time onward, the \nposition in the controversy held by the teacher of the \nBoston church was simply pitiable, — the ignominious \n1 Hutchinson, Massachusetts, i. 74. \n\n\n1637-8. ''THEIR STALKING HORSE:' 515 \n\npage in an otherwise worthy life. He made haste to \nwalk in a Covenant of Works, — and the walk was a \nvery dirty one. None the less he trudged sturdily on \nin it, now declaring that he had been abused and \nmade use of as a \" stalking horse,\" and now bewailing \nhis sloth and credulity. And thus \" did [he] spend \nmost of his time both publicly and privately,\" en- \ngaged in the inquisitor's work of unearthing heretics \nand heresies. A little later he even allowed himself \nto be put forward as the mouthpiece of his order, to \npass judgment on his old associates and to pronounce \nfilial sympathy a crime. \n\nMrs. Hutchinson was soon found to be the one root \nfrom whence had sprung the many heresies now un- \nearthed ; when traced, they all ran back to her. Here- \nupon the ministers \" resorted to her many times, \nlabouring to convince her, but in vain ; yet they re- \nsorted to her still, to the end they might either re- \nclaim her from her errors, or that they might bear \nwitness against them if occasion were.\" For now a \nnew ordeal awaited her. She was to undergo the dis- \ncipline of the church in which she was a sister. \n\nIn carefiil preparation for this, a species of eccle- \nsiastical indictment was drawn up by the brethren, set- \nting forth the utterances of the prisoner, as taken down \nfrom her own lips. Containing some thirty several \ncounts, it was altogether a formidable document.^ A \n\n1 A few of these counts will suffice to give a general idea of the \n•whole : — \n\n\" 8. The Image of God wherein Adam was made [Mrs. Hutchinson] \ncould see no Scripture to warrant that it consisteth in holinesse, but \nconceived it to be in that he was made like to Christ's manhood.\" \n\n\" 12. There is no evidence to be had of our good estate, either from \nabsolute or conditional promises.\" \n\n\" 15. There is first engraffing into Christ before union, from which \na man might fall away.\" \n\n\n516 THE EXCOMMUNICATION. March, \n\ncopy of it was then sent to tlie church at Boston, and \nthat church in due course apphed to the magistrates \nto allow Airs. Hutchinson to appear and answer to the \naccusation. Leave was of course granted, and at \nlength, in what would now be the latter part of March, \nJosej^h Weld's prisoner returned once more to her \nown house. But her husband was not there to meet \nher. He and her brother, and indeed all those whom \nshe could look to for countenance and support, were \naway seeking out a new home, against their impending \nexile ; nor did her opponents fail to attribute their \nabsence to \" the good providence of God,\" who thus \nremoved opposition. \n\nThe proceedings were appointed for the |fj of March. \nThey excited the deej^est interest throughout the col- \nony, and as the day drew near, Boston was thronged \nwith visitors. Not only all the members of the Bos- \nton church, but many others were there assembled ; \nfor the whole little community was agitated to its \ndepths. The utter sameness of that provincial life \n— in which no new excitements followed one upon \nanother, dividing attention and driving each other into \nforgetf ulness — was for once broken. The church was \nthe common family, and from that common family the \nelders were now to cast out the most prominent, — \n\n\"17. That Abraham was not in a saving estate till the 22 chap, of \nGen. when hee ofEered Isaac, and saveing the firmenesse of Gods \nelection, he might have perished, notwithstanding any work of grace \nthat was wrought in him till then.\" \n\n\" 21. That an hypocrite may have Adams righteousnesse and per- \nish, and by that righteousnes he is bound to the Law, but in union \nwith Christ, Christ comes into the man, and he retaines the seed and \ndieth, and then all manner of grace in himself e, but all in Christ.\" \n\n\" 28. That so farre as a man is in union with Christ, he can doe no \nduties perfectly, and without the communion of the unregenerate part \nwith the regenerate.\" \n\n\n1637. THURSDAY LECTURE-DAY. 517 \n\nthe best known of all the sisters. It is necessary to \nthink of the domestic circle to enable men or women \nof to-day to bring home to themselves the intensity \nof interest then aroused. An excommunication in \nchurch or state, or even socially, is now a small mat- \nter comparatively. It causes scarcely a ripple in the \ngTcat sea of life. The event of to-day, it is barely \nremembered to-morrow. It was not so then. It was \nas if with us a daughter, arraigned before brothers \nand sisters, were solemnly admonished by the vener- \nated father and driven from the hearth at which her \nchildhood had been passed. In that family the event \nwould be the one subject of thought ; from the minds \nand memories of those present no incident of the \nscene would ever fade. So it was in the Boston \nchurch. The members of that church felt and thousfht \nas the members of a modern family would think and \nfeel of a similar episode in their home. It would be \nthe event not of a day, but of a life, — the family \ntragedy. \n\nWhen, therefore, \" one Thirsday Lectuer day after \nSermon,\" the hour fixed for the proceedings to begin \nwas come, the Boston meeting-house was crowded \nwith a devout and expectant audience. The General \nCourt was sitting still at Cambridge, and the time \nof the church meeting — ten o'clock in the morning — \ninterfered with its sessions ; leave nevertheless was \nspecially granted to the governor and treasurer of the \nprovince, both members of the Boston church, to ab- \nsent themselves. They were present with the rest \nof the church when, two hours earlier than usual, the \nservices began ; but she who would have been the \nobserved of all was not .there. The seat reserved \nfor her was vacant. Sermon and prayer at length \n\n\n618 THE EXCOMMUNICATION. March, \n\nended, she came in, \" pretending,\" as Winthrop ex- \npressed it, \" bodily infirmity.\" When at last she had \ntaken her place, one of the elders arose and broke the \nsilence which prevailed. Calling the sister Anne \nHutchinson forth by name, he stated the purpose for \nwhich she had been summoned, and read the indict- \nment prepared against her. A copy of it, to which \nthose who were to bear witness to the several counts \nhad subscribed their names, had some days before \nbeen put in her hands. \n\nThe scene that ensued, though sufficiently interest- \ning, was, from the religious point of view, far from \nedifying.^ At first the woman at bay most pertinently \nasked by what precept of holy writ the elders of the \nchurch had come to her in her place of confinement, \npretending that they sought light, when in reality they \ncame to entrap and betray her. Then, presently, Wil- \nson, her pastor, — the man she disliked of all men, \nand for whom even her dislike was probably exceeded \nby her contempt, — Wilson either took some part in \nthe proceedings or was alluded to ; and at once her \nanger flashed out in stinging words. She denounced \nhim for what he had uttered against her before the \nCourt at the time of her sentence. \" ^ov what am I \nbanished?\" — she demanded ; declaring the heretical \nspeeches, now attributed to her, the results of confine- \nment. Presently the discussion of the articles was \nbegun, and she was called upon to answer to the first ; \nwhich was to the effect that \" the souls of all men (in \nregard of generation) are mortall like the beasts.\" \nThe debate then drifted into that region of barren \n\n1 A comparatively full report of the church proceedings in Mrs. \nHutchinson's case was found in 1888 among the papers of President \nStiles in the Yale library, and is printed in Proc. Mass. Hist. Soc. \nSeries 11. iv. 159-91. \n\n\n1638. ''THIS stranger:' 519 \n\ntheological abstractions in which those composing the \nassembly believed themselves entirely at home. The \naccused cited texts and endeavored to draw distinc- \ntions ; but in reply the elders — as was natural, she \nbeing one and they many — cited several texts, and \ndrew an infinite variety of distinctions to each one of \nhers. \" She could not give any answer to them, yet \nshe stood to her opinion, till at length a stranger,\" the \nRev. John Davenport, \" being desired to speak to the \npoint, and he opening to her the difference between \nthe Soul and the Life, — the first being a spiritual \nsubstance, and the other the union of that with the \nbody, — she then confessed she saw more light than \nbefore, and so with some difiiculty was brought to \nconfess her error in that point. Wherein,\" as Win- \nthrop goes on to remark, not it would appear without \nconsiderable insight as to Mrs. Hutchinson's foibles, \n\"it was to be observed that, though this stranger \nspake to very good purpose, and so clearly convinced \nher as she could not gainsay, yet it was evident she \nwas convinced before, but she could not give the \nhonour of it to her own pastor or teacher, nor to any \nof the other elders, whom she had so much slighted.\" \nIt is not necessary to follow the discussion further. \nThree more of the articles were propounded; and \nstill, in spite of the storm of texts pelted upon her. \nMistress Hutchinson persisted in her errors. She \neven returned \" forward speeches to some that spake \nto her.\" By this time the day was grown old, and \nthe patience of the elders was exhausted. The single \nwoman, quick of tongue though weak of body, seemed \nnot only disposed to out-talk them all, but to out- \n— endure them as well ; for it was not without reason \n\"^she had delayed coming into the assembly until ser- \n\n\n520 THE EXCOMMUNICATION. March, \n\nmon and prayer were over. At length, as it grew \ntowards evening and the fourth of the twenty-nine \narticles was not yet disposed of, the elders bethought \nthemselves to hasten matters by administering to their \nerring and obstinate sister a formal admonition, the \nreal purport of which apparently was that she should \nsuffer herself to be convinced more readily. In the \ncourse of the proceedings one of her sons had ven- \ntured a natural inquiry as to the rule which should \nguide him in expressing his assent or dissent; and \nlater on Thomas Savage, the husband of her daughter. \nFaith, did himself honor by rising in his place and \nsaying, — \" My mother not being accused of any hein- \nous act, but only for opinion, and that wherein she \ndesires information and light, rather than perempto- \nrily to hold [to it], I cannot consent that the church \nshould proceed yet to admonish her for this.\" There- \nupon Thomas Oliver, one of the ruling elders, after \ndeclaring that it was grief to his \" spirit to see these \ntwo brethren to speak so much and to scruple the pro- \nceedings of the church,\" propounded the following as \na solution of the dilemma : — \n\n\" Seeing that all the proceedings of the churches of Jesus \nChrist now should be according to the pattern of the primi- \ntive churches ; and the primitive pattern was that all things \nin the church should be done with one heart and one soul \nand one consent, that any act and every act done by the \nchurch may be as the act of one man ; — Therefore, whether \nit be not meet to lay these two brethren under an admoni- \ntion with their mother, that so the church may proceed on \nwithout any further opposition.\" \n\nThis novel though drastic parliamentary expedient \nfor securing unanimity evidently commended itself \nstrongly to the judgment of the Rev. John Wilson, \n\n\n1638. THE ADMONITION. 521 \n\nfor he at once cried out from his place among the \nelders, — \"I think you speak very well ! It is very \nmeet ! \" The motion was then put \" and the whole \nchurch by their silence consented.\" The admonition \nwas pronounced by Cotton, with whom also it was \nleft \" to do as God should incline his heart \" in the \nmatter of including Mrs. Hutchinson's \" two sons or \nno with herself.\" As, in the course of his subsequent \ndeliverance, the eloquent teacher took occasion to ad- \ndress the \" two sons,\" saying among other things that \n\" instead of loving and natural children, you have \nproved vipers, to eat through the very bowells of your \nmother, to her ruin, if God do not graciously pre- \nvent,\" the inference would seem to be inevitable that \nwhen the moment came John Cotton found his heart \ninclined from above to include offspring as well as \nmother in his admonitory remarks. Winthrop says, \nand it may well be believed, that on this occasion \nthe teacher spoke with great solemnity and \" much \nzeal and detestation of her errors and pride of spirit.\" \nHe spake in this wise ; and \n\n\" First to her son, laying it sadly upon him, that he would \ngive such way to his natural affection, as for preserving her \nhonor he should make a breach upon the honor of Christ, \nand upon his covenant with the church, and withal tear the \nvery bowells of his soul, by hardening her in sin. Then to \nher, first, he remembered her of the good way she was in at \nher first coming, in helping to discover to divers the false \nbottom they stood upon in trusting to legal works without \nChrist ; then he showed her how, by falling into these gross \nand fundamental errors, she had lost the honor of her former \nservice, and done more wrong to Christ and his church than \nformerly she had done good, and so laid her sin to her con- \nscience. He admonished her also of the height of spirit, \n\n\n622 THE EXCOMMUNICATION. March, \n\nand charged her solemnly before the Lord, and his Angels, \nand Churches there assembled to return from the error of \nher way. Then he spake to the sisters of the church, and \nadvised them to take heed of her opinions, and to withhold \nall countenance and respect from her, lest they should harden \nher in sin.\" ^ \n\n\"So she was dismissed, and appointed to appear again \nthat day seven-night.\" \n\nIt was eight o'clock of the March evening when the \nhungry and wearied congregation at last broke up. \nThrough ten consecutive hours those composing it had \nsat on the hard and crowded benches. Mrs. Hutch- \ninson had been ordered to return at the close of the \n\n1 It may not be uninteresting to quote from the report of these \nproceedings and the admonitory remarks of Mr. Cotton so much as \nrelates to one point at issue, if only to illustrate the singular logical \nintricacies into which the discussion wandered, as well as the charac- \nter of the treatment to which the accused sister was subjected : — \n\n\" Mrs. Hutchinson : — I desire you to speak to that place in I. \nCorinthians xv. 37, 44. For I do question whether the same body \nthat dies shall rise again. . . . \n\n\" Mr. Buckle : — I desire to know of Mrs. Hutchinson, whether you \nhold any other resurrection than that of . . . Union to Christ Jesus ? \n— And whether you hold that foul, filthy and abominable opinion held \nby Familists of the community of women. \n\n\" Mrs. Hutchinson : — I hold it not. . . . \n\n\" Mr. Davenport : — Avoid . . . Mr. Buckles question ; for it is a \nright principle. For, if the resurrection be past, then marriage is \npast : for it is a weighty reason : after the resurrection is past, mar- \nriage is past. Then, if there be any union between man and woman, \nit is not by marriage, but in a way of community. \n\n\" Mrs. Hutchinson : — If any such practice or conclusion be \ndrawn from it, then I must leave it, for I abhor that practice.\" . . . \n\nMr. Cotton in his admonition : — ...\" If the resurrection be past, \nthen you cannot evade the argument that was pressed upon you by \nour brother Buckle and others, that filthy sin of the community of \nwomen ; and all promiscuous and filthy coming together of men and \nwomen, without distinction or relation of marriage, will necessarily \nfollow ; and, though I have not heard, neither do I think, you have \nbeen unfaithful to your husband in his marriage covenant, yet that \nwill follow upon it.\" . . . \n\n\n1638. THE RECANTATION. 523 \n\nmeeting to her place of confinement at Roxbury ; but \nsome intimation had been received from those supposed \nto know, that her courage was giving way under the \ntremendous pressure to which she had been subjected, \nand that, if properly labored with now, she might be \nmade to yield. Accordingly, she was permitted to \nremain at Cotton's house. He probably had man- \naged it, wishing to make one last effort to save, from \nwhat he looked upon as perdition, the most gifted \nof his parishioners. The Rev. John Davenport, that \n\" stranger \" to whose authority Mrs. Hutchinson had \nshown herself not indisposed to succumb in the con- \ngregation, was also Cotton's guest; and, during the \nintervening week, the two divines did not, it would \nSeem, strive with her in vain. Indeed, they so far \nprevailed that she acknowledged she had been wrong, \nand even brought herself to the point of agreeing \npublicly to recant. So, — \n\n\" When the day came, and she was called forth and the \narticles read again to her, she delivered in her answers in \nwriting, which were also read ; and, being then willing to \nspeak to the congregation for their further satisfaction, she \ndid acknowledge that she had greatly erred, and that God \nhad now withdrawn his countenance from her, because she \nhad so much misprised his ordinances, both in slighting the \nmagistrates at the Court, and also the elders of the Church. \nAnd she confessed that during her trial by the Court, she \nlooked only at such failings as she apprehended in the \nmagistrates' proceedings, without having regard to their \nposition of authority ; ^ and that the language she then used \n\n1 \" 2. For these scriptures that I used at the Court in censuring the \ncountry, I confess I did it rashly and out of heat of spirit, and unad- \nvisedly, and have cause to be sorry for my unreverent carriag-e to \nthem ; and I am heartily sorry that any things I have said have \ndrawn any from hearing any of the elders of the Bay.\" \n\n\n624 THE EXCOMMUNICATION. March, \n\nabout her revelations was rash and without ground ; and she \nasked the church to pray for her.\" \n\n\" Thus far,\" says Winthrop, \" she went on well, \nand the assembly conceived hope of her repentance.\" \nIndeed, it is not easy to see what more could have \nbeen asked of any one. A woman, — full of pride \nof intellect, and of insatiable ambition, — she had \nconfessed herself in error, and, in the presence of her \nadherents and the face of the world, humbled herself \nin the dust before the enemies she despised. With all \nher feminine instinct in that way, she had herself \nnever devised so bitter a humiliation even for John \nWilson. But this was not enough. She was not so to \nelude the lord-brethren. It is apparent they meant \nto rid themselves wholly of her ; nor was it any longer \ndifficult for them to do so. Having at last found out \nher weak points they were more than a match for her, \nfor they knew exactly how to go to work to convict \nher. They had but to provoke her to voluble speech, \nand she was sure to deliver herself into their hands ; \nnor, indeed, could it well have been otherwise, seeing \nthey were engaged discussing the unknowable, many \nagainst one, and that one a loquacious woman. \n\nShe read her recantation from a paper, speaking \nevidently with a subdued voice and bowed head. As \nsoon as she finished Thomas Leverett, the ruling \nelder, rose, saying it was meet somebody should re- \nstate what she had said to the congregation, which \nhad been unable to hear her ; whereupon Cotton reit- \nerated the heads of her \"groce and fundamentall \nErrors,\" and her humiliating admission that \"the \nRoote of all was the hight and Pride of her Spirit.\" \nThen presently Wilson, her pastor, stood up before \nthe silent and spell-bound audience. His hour of \n\n\n1638. A PASTOR'S TRIUMPH. 525 \n\ntriumph and revenge had come ; and, apparently, he \nproposed thoroughly to enjoy the first, and to make \ncomplete the last. At the meeting of the previous \nweek Mrs. Hutchinson had made an issue with Shep- \nard and Eliot. The former of these two divines, \nalmost alone among his brethren, had in the Novem- \nber trial before the Court shown some degree of Chris- \ntian spirit towards the accused, and afterwards he and \nEliot had labored long and earnestly with her at the \nhouse of Joseph Weld in Roxbury. In the midst of \nCotton's admonition of the week before, Mrs. Hutch- \ninson had broken in upon him with an assertion that \nit was only since her imprisonment at Roxbury that \nshe held any of the erroneous opinions attributed to \nher. No sooner had Cotton finished than Shepard \nrose to declare his \" astonishment \" at \" what Mrs. \nHutchinson did last speak, . . . that she should thus \nimpudently affirm so horrible an untruth and false- \nhood in the midst of such a solemn ordinance of Jesus \nChrist and before such an assembly.\" And now, a \nweek afterwards, the recantation being over, Wilson \ncalled attention to the fact of its incompleteness in \nthat it left this question of veracity between the ac- \ncused and the two ministers undisposed of. Speak- \ning with great restraint and humility Mrs. Hutchinson \nreplied that what she had said when she interrupted \nCotton had been spoken \" rashly and unadvisedly,\" \nadding, — \"I do not allow the slighting of ministers, \nnor of the scriptures, nor anything that is set up by \nGod : if Mr. Shepard doth conceive that I had any \nof these things in my mind then he is deceived.\" \nThis response sounds to a modern reader sufficiently \nhumble and subdued. It did not so souHd to the \nRev. Thomas Shepard when it was uttered in the \n\n\n526 THE EXCOMMUNICATION. March, \n\nBoston meeting-house on what is now the 1st of April, \n1638 ; on the contrary, that \" sweet affecting and \nsoul-ravishing \" divine made haste to declare himself \n*' unsatisfied,\" saying, — \" If this day, when Mrs. \nHutchinson should take shame and confusion to her- \nself for her gToss and damnable errors, she shall cast \nshame upon others, and say they are mistaken, and \nto turn off many of those gross errors with so slight \nan answer as * your mistake,' I fear it doth not stand \nwith true repentance.\" \n\nThe following coUoquy then took place : — \n\n\" Mr. Cotton : — Sister, was there not a time when once \nyou did hold that there were no distinct graces inherent in \nus, but all was in Christ Jesus ? \n\n\" Mrs. Hutchinson : — I did mistake the word ' inher- \nent ; ' as Mr. Davenport can teU, who did cause me first to \nsee my mistake in the word ' mherent.' \n\n\" Mr. Eliot : — We are not satisfied with what she \nsaith, that she should say now that she did never deny in- \nherence of Grace in us, as in a subject ; for she being by us \npressed so with it, she denied that there was no Graces in- \nherent in Christ himself. \n\n\" Mr. Shepard : — She did not only deny the word ' in- \nherent,' but denied the very thing itself; then I asked her \nif she did believe the spirit of God was in believers. \n\n\" Mrs. Hutchinson : — I confess my expressions were \nthat way, but it was never my judgment.\" \n\nThe theological issue involved was unintelligible, \nand the jargon in which the discussion was carried \non completed the confusion. The nominal point in \ndispute was whether the sister on trial was not, or \nhad not at some time previous been, \" of that judg- \nment that there is no inherent righteousness in the \n\n\n1638. ''INHERENCE OF GRACE.\" 527 \n\nsaints, but those gifts and graces which are ascribed \nto them that are only in Christ as the subject.\" But, \nwhile this was the apparent issue, the efforts of the \nministers were really directed towards extorting from \nMrs. Hutchinson a full and unconditioned confession \nof error, — a recantation absolute and unequivocal. \nHer submission was to be complete. The audience \ncomposed of the members of the Boston church, — \nher former admirers and still in their hearts her ad- \nherents — were in mind. Before their wondering \neyes and to their listening ears, the woman towards \nwhom their hearts yet went out was to be broken \ndown, discredited and humiliated ; and she was to \nconfess herself so without one syllable of reservation. \n\nThat Mrs. Hutchinson now found herself beyond \nher depth, is obvious. It is stating the case none too \nstrongly to say that all the disputants, — ministers, \nmagistrates, elders and female transcendentalist — \nwere hopelessly lost in a thick fog of indefinable ideas \nand meaningless phrases ; but, while all groped their \nway angrily, numbers and the clatter of tongues were \nwholly on one side. Apparently, feeling herself hard \npressed by men hateful to her, Mrs. Hutchinson could \nnot bring herself to yield to them as she had yielded \nin public to Davenport, and in private to Cotton. So \nshe adhered to her statement, — \" My judgment is not \naltered though my expression alters.\" \n\nThen at once Wilson gave the signal and the on- \nslaught began. In referring to the proceedings dur- \ning Mrs. Hutchinson's trial by the General Court at \nCambridge in November, 1637, and the treatment \nthe accused then received, a high authority on matters \nof New England history has remarked that the re- \nports of what took place \" contain evidence that her \n\n\n528 THE EXCOMMUNICATION. March, \n\njudges did not escape the contagion of her ill-tem- \nper.\" 1 This criticism of those composing the Court \nin question certainly does not err on the side of harsh- \nness ; and not impossibly the same sense of pious de- \nvotion to the fathers which manifestly inspired it \nmiofht now see in the course of those controllinor the \naction of the Boston church only another example of \nthe contagious character of the victim's perverse dis- \nposition : but to one endeavoring to look upon a scene \nof ecclesiastical persecution which occurred in Boston \nin 1638 with the same eyes with which he looks upon \nother scenes of the same general character which oc- \ncurred at about that time in England, in France and \nin Spain, a wholly different impression is conveyed. \nIn dealing with vexed questions of an historical charac- \nter it is best always to speak with studied moderation, \navoiding metaphor scarcely less than invective ; yet \nit is difficult to read the report of the closing church \nproceedings in the case of Anne Hutchinson without \nthe simile suggesting itself of some pack of savage \nhounds surrounding and mercilessly hunting down a \nfrightened fox, driven from cover and crouching. \n\nIt was John Wilson's voice which now seemed to \nraise the familiar view-hallo, and at once the kennel \noj)ened in full cry. Magistrates and ministers vied \nwith each other in passionate terms of hatred, oppro- \nbrium and contempt. Dudley, the Deputy Governor, \nthough neither a member of the Boston church nor an \nelder, — simply a stranger present from curiosity, — \nDudley cried out, — \" Her repentance is in a paper, \n. . . but sure her repentance is not in her counte- \nnance. None can see it there, I think.\" Then Pe- \nters, the minister of the Salem church, exclaimed, — \n1 Palfrey, i. 486. \n\n\n1638. \n\n\n\"THE GAME'S AFOOT/\" 529 \n\n\n\" I believe that she has vile thoughts of us, and \nthinks us to be nothing but a company of Jews ; \" \nand again, — \" You have stept out of your place. \nYou have rather been a husband than a wife ; and a \npreacher than a hearer ; and a magistrate than a sub- \nject ; and so you have thought to carry all things in \nchurch and commonwealth as you would.\" After \nPeters, Shepard took up the refrain, saying to the \ncongregation, — \" You have not only to deal with a \nwoman this day that holds divers erroneous opinions, \nbut with one that never had any true grace in her \nheart, and that by her own tenet. Yea ! this day she \nhath shown herself to be a notorious impostor.\" Wil- \nson repeatedly broke in, — \" One cause was ... to \nset yourself in the room of God, above others, that \nyou might be extolled and admired and followed after, \nthat you might be a great prophetess ; . . . therefore \nI believe your iniquity hath found you out ; ... it \ngrieves me that you should so evince your dangerous, \nfoul and damnable heresies.\" Then, after taking \nbreath, he presently began again, — \"I cannot but \nacknowledge the Lord is just in leaving our sister to \npride and lying. ... I look at her as a dangerous \ninstrument of the Devil raised up by Satan amongst \nus. . . . Consider how we can, or whether we may \nlonger suffer her to go on still in seducing to seduce, \nand in deceiving to deceive, and in lying to lie, and \nin condemning authority and magistrates, still to con- \ndemn. Therefore, we should sin against God if we \nshould not put away from us so evil a woman, guilty \nof such foul evils.\" Then Eliot, \"the Apostle,\" — \n\" It is a wonderful wisdom of God ... to let her \nfall into such lies as she hath done this day ; for she \nhath carried on all her errors by lies.\" Finally Cot- \n\n\n530 THE EXCOMMUNICATION. March, \n\nton, turning at last fairly against his former disciple, \nannounced that \" God hath let her fall into a mani- \nfest lie, yea ! to make a lie,\" and Shepard, eagerly \ncatching up the phrase, exclaimed, — \" But now for \none not to drop a lie, but to make a lie, and to main- \ntain a lie ! ... I would have this church consider, \nwhether it will be for the honor of God and the honor \nof this church to bear with patience so gross an \noffender.\" \n\nAnd so at last the pitiless chase drew to a close. \nThroughout all its latter stages, while it was exhaust- \ning itself by its own heat, the voice of the accused \nhad not been heard, — evidently she sat there, mute, \nmotionless, aghast. Once, after listening to a furi- \nous diatribe from Wilson, the hard-hunted creature \nseems to have tried to take refuge under Cotton's \ngown, exclaiming, — \" Our teacher knows my judg- \nment, for I never kept my judgment from him ! \" \n— but already Cotton, recognizing the inevitable and \nbowing to it, had abandoned her to her fate. Then \nshe ceased to struggle, and the yelling pack rushed in \nujjon her. \n\nLong afterwards, in reply to the charge that he \nhad contrived to transfer the odious duty of excom- \nmunicating his disciple from himself to Wilson, \nJohn Cotton asserted ^ that he stood ready to be the \nmouthpiece of the church in this matter, — no less \nthan he had already been in the matter of admonish- \nment, — had the task been put upon him ; and there \ncan be no doubt that, at the time, he gave his open \nassent before the whole congregation to the course \nwhich was pursued, and even silenced the scruples of \nthe few who yet clung to their prophetess, by calling \n\n1 Way Cleared, 85. \n\n\n1638. \"AN IMPENITENT LIAR:' 531 \n\nto mind the precedents of \" Ananias and Sapphira, and \nthe incestuous Corinthian.\" The offence now charged \nagainst Mrs. Hutchinson was not heresy, but false- \nhood persistently adhered to. An impenitent liar was \nto be cast out. The matter was one touching morals, \nnot doctrine ; and accordingly, as Cotton claimed, lay \nrather within the province of the pastor than the \nteacher. It was for Mr. Wilson, therefore, to pro- \nnounce the sentence of excommunication ; nor was \nthere any reason for delay. A few voices were, \nindeed, heard timidly suggesting that the accused \nmight be once more admonished, and time for repent- \nance yet given her ; but she herself sat silent, asking \nno respite. Then Wilson rose, and, in the hush of \nthe crowded assembly, solemnly put the question \nwhether all were of one mind that their sister should \nbe cast out. The silence was broken by no reply ; \nand, after the custom of that church, this betokened \nconsent. Then the sentence of excommunication was \npronounced ; and Anne Hutchinson, no longer a sister, \nlistened to these words rolled out in triumph from \nthe mouth of John Wilson, the pastor, — \" Therefore \nin the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and in the name \nof the church I do not only pronounce you worthy to \nbe cast out, but I do cast you out ; and in the name \nof Christ I do deliver you up to Satan, that you may \nlearn no more to blaspheme, to seduce and to lie ; \nand I do account you from this time forth to be a \nHeathen and a Publican, and so to be held of all the \nBrethren and Sisters of this congregation and of \nothers : therefore I command you in the name of \nChrist Jesus and of this church as a Leper to with- \ndraw j^ourself out of the congregation.\" \n\nWhen, in obedience to this mandate, Anne Hutch- \n\n\n532 THE EXCOMMUNWAT^m. 1638. \n\nijispn, the outcast, moved thix)ugh the awe-stricken \nthrong, her disciple and devoted 'friend; Mary Dyer,^ \nrose up and walked by her side, and the two passed \nout together. As they went forth, one standing at the \nmeetiiiof-house door said to Mrs. Hutchinson, — \" The \nLord sanctify this unto you ; \" to whom she made \nanswer, — \" The Lord judgeth not as man judgeth. \nBetter to be cast out of the church than to deny \nChrist.\" At the same time another, a stranger in \nBoston, pointing with his finger at Mary Dyer, asked, \n— \" Who is that young woman ? \" and he of whom he \nasked made answer, — \" It is the woman which had \nthe monster.\" ^ \n\nThe records of the First Church of Boston contain \nthe following entry : — \n\n\"The 22d of the 1st Month 1638. Anne, the wife of \nour brother, William Hutchinson, having on the 15th of this \nmonth been openly, in the public congregation, admonished \nof sundry errors held by her, was on the same 22d day cast \nout of the church for impenitently persisting in a manifest \nlie, then expressed by her in open congregation.\" \n\n1 Supra, 408, n. ^ Winthrop, i. *263 ; supra, 386. \n\n\n< -