Book: The Beginnings of New England

J >> John Fiske >> The Beginnings of New England




By the year 1634 the scheme of the Massachusetts Company had so far
prospered that nearly 4000 Englishmen had come over, and some twenty
villages on or near the shores of the bay had been founded. The building
of permanent houses, roads, fences, and bridges had begun to go on quite
briskly; farms were beginning to yield a return for the labour of the
husbandman; lumber, furs, and salted fish were beginning to be sent to
England in exchange for manufactured articles; 4000 goats and 1500 head
of cattle grazed in the pastures, and swine innumerable rooted in the
clearings and helped to make ready the land for the ploughman. Political
meetings were held, justice was administered by magistrates after old
English precedents, and church services were performed by a score of
clergymen, nearly all graduates of Cambridge, though one or two had
their degrees from Oxford, and nearly all of whom had held livings in
the Church of England. The most distinguished of these clergymen, John
Cotton, in his younger days a Fellow and Tutor of Emmanuel College, had
for more than twenty years been rector of St. Botolph's, when he left
the most magnificent parish church in England to hold service in the
first rude meeting-house of the new Boston. From Emmanuel College came
also Thomas Hooker and John Harvard. Besides these clergymen, so many of
the leading persons concerned in the emigration were university men that
it was not long before a university began to seem indispensable to
the colony. In 1636 the General Court appropriated L400 toward the
establishment of a college at Newtown. In 1638 John Harvard, dying
childless, bequeathed his library and the half of his estate to the new
college, which the Court forthwith ordered to be called by his name;
while in honour of the mother university the name of the town was
changed to Cambridge.

[Illustration: Founding of Harvard College]

It has been said that the assembly which decreed the establishment
of Harvard College was "the first body in which the people, by their
representatives, ever gave their own money to found a place of
education." [8] The act was a memorable one if we have regard to all the
circumstances of the year in which it was done. On every side danger was
in the air. Threatened at once with an Indian war, with the enmity of
the home government, and with grave dissensions among themselves, the
year 1636 was a trying one indeed for the little community of Puritans,
and their founding a college by public taxation just at this time is a
striking illustration of their unalterable purpose to realize, in this
new home, their ideal of an educated Christian society. [Sidenote:
Threefold danger in the year 1636]

That the government of Charles I. should view with a hostile eye the
growth of a Puritan state in New England is not at all surprising. (1.
From the king, who prepares to attack the infant colony but is fueled by
dissensions at home.) The only fit ground for wonder would seem to be
that Charles should have been willing at the outset to grant a charter
to the able and influential Puritans who organized the Company of
Massachusetts Bay. Probably, however, the king thought at first that it
would relieve him at home if a few dozen of the Puritan leaders could
be allowed to concentrate their minds upon a project of colonization in
America. It might divert attention for a moment from his own despotic
schemes. Very likely the scheme would prove a failure and the
Massachusetts colony incur a fate like that of Roanoke Island; and at
all events the wealth of the Puritans might better be sunk in a remote
and perilous enterprise than employed at home in organizing resistance
to the crown. Such, very likely, may have been the king's motive in
granting the Massachusetts charter two days after turning his Parliament
out of doors. But the events of the last half-dozen years had come to
present the case in a new light. The young colony was not languishing.
It was full of sturdy life; it had wrought mischief to the schemes of
Gorges; and what was more, it had begun to take unheard-of liberties
with things ecclesiastical and political. Its example was getting to be
a dangerous one. It was evidently worth while to put a strong curb upon
Massachusetts. Any promise made to his subjects Charles regarded as
a promise made under duress which he was quite justified in breaking
whenever it suited his purpose to do so. Enemies of Massachusetts were
busy in England. Schismatics from Salem and revellers from Merrymount
were ready with their tales of woe, and now Gorges and Mason were
vigorously pressing their territorial claims. They bargained with
the king. In February, 1635, the moribund Council for New England
surrendered its charter and all its corporate rights in America, on
condition that the king should disregard all the various grants by which
these rights had from time to time been alienated, and should divide
up the territory of New England in severalty among the members of the
Council. In pursuance of this scheme Gorges and Mason, together with
half a dozen noblemen, were allowed to parcel out New England among
themselves as they should see fit. In this way the influence of the
Marquis of Hamilton, with the Earls of Arundel, Surrey, Carlisle, and
Stirling, might be actively enlisted against the Massachusetts Company.
A writ of _quo warranto_ was brought against it; and it was proposed to
send Sir Ferdinando to govern New England with viceregal powers like
those afterward exercised by Andros.

For a moment the danger seemed alarming; but, as Winthrop says, "the
Lord frustrated their design." It was noted as a special providence that
the ship in which Gorges was to sail was hardly off the stocks when it
fell to pieces. Then the most indefatigable enemy of the colony, John
Mason, suddenly died. The king issued his famous writ of ship-money and
set all England by the ears; and, to crown all, the attempt to read the
Episcopal liturgy at St. Giles's church in Edinburgh led straight to
the Solemn League and Covenant. Amid the first mutterings of the Great
Rebellion the proceedings against Massachusetts were dropped, and the
unheeded colony went on thriving in its independent course. Possibly too
some locks at Whitehall may have been turned with golden keys, [9] for
the company was rich, and the king was ever open to such arguments. But
when the news of his evil designs had first reached Boston the people of
the infant colony showed no readiness to yield to intimidation. In their
measures there was a decided smack of what was to be realized a hundred
and forty years later. Orders were immediately issued for fortifying
Castle Island in the harbour and the heights at Charlestown and
Dorchester. Militia companies were put in training, and a beacon was
set up on the highest hill in Boston, to give prompt notice to all the
surrounding country of any approaching enemy.

While the ill will of the home government thus kept the colonists in a
state of alarm, there were causes of strife at work at their very doors,
of which they were fain to rid themselves as soon as possible. Among all
the Puritans who came to New England there is no more interesting figure
than the learned, quick-witted pugnacious Welshman, Roger Williams. He
was over-fond of logical subtleties and delighted in controversy. There
was scarcely any subject about which he did not wrangle, from the
sinfulness of persecution to the propriety of women wearing veils in
church. Yet, with all this love of controversy, there has perhaps
never lived a more gentle and kindly soul. Within five years from the
settlement of Massachusetts this young preacher had announced the true
principles of religious liberty with a clearness of insight quite
remarkable in that age. Roger Williams had been aided in securing an
education by the great lawyer Sir Edward Coke, and had lately taken his
degree at Pembroke College, Cambridge; but the boldness with which he
declared his opinions had aroused the hostility of Laud, and in 1631 he
had come over to Plymouth, whence he removed two years later to Salem,
and became pastor of the church there. The views of Williams, if
logically carried out, involved the entire separation of church from
state, the equal protection of all forms of religious faith, the repeal
of all laws compelling attendance on public worship, the abolition of
tithes and of all forced contributions to the support of religion. Such
views are to-day quite generally adopted by the more civilized portions
of the Protestant world; but it is needless to say that they were not
the views of the seventeenth century, in Massachusetts or elsewhere. For
declaring such opinions as these on the continent of Europe, anywhere
except in Holland, a man like Williams would in that age have run great
risk of being burned at the stake. In England, under the energetic
misgovernment of Laud, he would very likely have had to stand in the
pillory with his ears cropped, or perhaps, like Bunyan and Baxter, would
have been sent to jail. In Massachusetts such views were naturally
enough regarded as anarchical, but in Williams's case they were further
complicated by grave political imprudence. He wrote a pamphlet in which
he denied the right of the colonists to the lands which they held in New
England under the king's grant. He held that the soil belonged to the
Indians, that the settlers could only obtain a valid title to it by
purchase from them, and that the acceptance of a patent from a mere
intruder, like the king, was a sin requiring public repentance. This
doctrine was sure to be regarded in England as an attack upon the king's
supremacy over Massachusetts, and at the same time an incident occurred
in Salem which made it all the more unfortunate. The royal colours under
which the little companies of militia marched were emblazoned with the
red cross of St. George. The uncompromising Endicott loathed this emblem
as tainted with Popery, and one day he publicly defaced the flag of the
Salem company by cutting out the cross. The enemies of Massachusetts
misinterpreted this act as a defiance aimed at the royal authority, and
they attributed it to the teachings of Williams. In view of the king's
unfriendliness these were dangerous proceedings. Endicott was summoned
before the General Court at Boston, where he was publicly reprimanded
and declared incapable of holding office for a year. A few months
afterward, in January, 1636, Williams was ordered by the General Court
to come to Boston and embark in a ship that was about to set sail for
England. But he escaped into the forest, and made his way through the
snow to the wigwam of Massasoit. He was a rare linguist, and had learned
to talk fluently in the language of the Indians, and now he passed the
winter in trying to instill into their ferocious hearts something of the
gentleness of Christianity. In the spring he was privately notified by
Winthrop that if he were to steer his course to Narragansett bay he
would be secure from molestation; and such was the beginning of the
settlement of Providence. [Sidenote: From religious dissensions; Roger
Williams]

Shortly before the departure of Williams, there came to Boston one of
the greatest Puritan statesmen of that heroic age, the younger Henry
Vane. It is pleasant to remember that the man and Anne who did so much
to overthrow the tyranny of Strafford, who brought the military strength
of Scotland to the aid of the hard-pressed Parliament, who administered
the navy with which Blake won his astonishing victories, who dared even
withstand Cromwell at the height of his power when his measures became
too violent,--it is pleasant to remember that this admirable man was
once the chief magistrate of an American commonwealth. It is pleasant
for a Harvard man to remember that as such he presided over the assembly
that founded our first university. Thorough republican and enthusiastic
lover of liberty, he was spiritually akin to Jefferson and to Samuel
Adams. Like Williams he was a friend to toleration, and like Williams
he found Massachusetts an uncomfortable home. In 1636 he was only
twenty-four years of age, "young in years," and perhaps not yet "in
sage counsel old." He was chosen governor for that year, and his
administration was stormy. Among those persons who had followed Mr.
Cotton from Lincolnshire was Mrs. Anne Hutchinson, a very bright and
capable lady, if perhaps somewhat impulsive and indiscreet. She had
brought over with her, says Winthrop, "two dangerous errors: first, that
the person of the Holy Ghost dwells in a justified person; second, that
no sanctification can help to evidence to us our justification." Into
the merits of such abstruse doctrines it is not necessary for the
historian to enter. One can hardly repress a smile as one reflects
how early in the history of Boston some of its characteristic social
features were developed. It is curious to read of lectures there in
1636, lectures by a lady, and transcendentalist lectures withal! Never
did lectures in Boston arouse greater excitement than Mrs. Hutchinson's.
Many of her hearers forsook the teachings of the regular ministers, to
follow her. [Sidenote: Henry Vane and Anne Hutchinson]

She was very effectively supported by her brother-in-law, Mr.
Wheelwright, an eloquent preacher, and for a while she seemed to be
carrying everything before her. She won her old minister Mr. Cotton, she
won the stout soldier Captain Underhill, she won Governor Vane himself;
while she incurred the deadly hatred of such men as Dudley and Cotton's
associate John Wilson. The church at Boston was divided into two hostile
camps. The sensible Winthrop marvelled at hearing men distinguished "by
being under a covenant of grace or a covenant of works, as in other
countries between Protestants and Papists," and he ventured to doubt
whether any man could really tell what the difference was. The
theological strife went on until it threatened to breed civil
disaffection among the followers of Mrs. Hutchinson. A peculiar
bitterness was given to the affair, from the fact that she professed to
be endowed with the spirit of prophecy and taught her partisans that it
was their duty to follow the biddings of a supernatural light; and there
was nothing which the orthodox Puritan so steadfastly abhorred as the
anarchical pretence of living by the aid of a supernatural light. In a
strong and complex society the teachings of Mrs. Hutchinson would have
awakened but a languid speculative interest, or perhaps would have
passed by unheeded. In the simple society of Massachusetts in 1636,
physically weak and as yet struggling for very existence, the practical
effect of such teachings may well have been deemed politically
dangerous. When things came to such a pass that the forces of the colony
were mustered for an Indian campaign and the men of Boston were ready to
shirk the service because they suspected their chaplain to be "under a
covenant of works," it was naturally thought to be high time to put Mrs.
Hutchinson down. In the spring of 1637 Winthrop was elected governor,
and in August Vane returned to England. His father had at that moment
more influence with the king than any other person except Strafford,
and the young man had indiscreetly hinted at an appeal to the home
government for the protection of the Antinomians, as Mrs. Hutchinson's
followers were called. But an appeal from America to England was
something which Massachusetts would no more tolerate in the days of
Winthrop than in the days of Hancock and Adams. Soon after Vane's
departure, Mrs. Hutchinson and her friends were ordered to leave the
colony. It was doubtless an odious act of persecution, yet of all
such acts which stain the history of Massachusetts in the seventeenth
century, it is just the one for which the plea of political necessity
may really be to some extent accepted.

We now begin to see how the spreading of the New England colonization,
and the founding of distinct communities, was hastened by these
differences of opinion on theological questions or on questions
concerning the relations between church and state. Of Mrs. Hutchinson's
friends and adherents, some went northward, and founded the towns of
Exeter and Hampton. Some time before Portsmouth and Dover had been
settled by followers of Mason and Gorges. In 1641 these towns were added
to the domain of Massachusetts, and so the matter stood until 1679, when
we shall see Charles II. marking them off as a separate province, under
a royal government. Such were the beginnings of New Hampshire. Mrs.
Hutchinson herself, however, with the rest of her adherents, bought
the island of Aquedneck from the Indians, and settlements were made at
Portsmouth and Newport. After a quarter of a century of turbulence,
these settlements coalesced with Williams's colony at Providence, and
thus was formed the state of Rhode Island. After her husband's death in
1642, Mrs. Hutchinson left Aquedneck and settled upon some land to the
west of Stamford and supposed to be within the territory of the New
Netherlands. There in the following year she was cruelly murdered by
Indians, together with nearly all her children and servants, sixteen
victims in all. One of her descendants was the illustrious Thomas
Hutchinson, the first great American historian, and last royal governor
of Massachusetts.

To the dangers arising from the ill-will of the crown, and from these
theological quarrels, there was added the danger of a general attack by
the savages. Down to this time, since the landing of the Pilgrims at
Plymouth, the settlers of New England had been in no way molested by the
natives. Massasoit's treaty with the Pilgrims was scrupulously observed
on both sides, and kept the Wampanoags quiet for fifty-four years. The
somewhat smaller tribe which took its name from the _Massawachusett_, or
Great Hill, of Milton, kept on friendly terms with the settlers about
Boston, because these red men coveted the powerful aid of the white
strangers in case of war with their hereditary foes the Tarratines, who
dwelt in the Piscataqua country. It was only when the English began
to leave these coast regions and press into the interior that trouble
arose. The western shores of Narragansett bay were possessed by
the numerous and warlike tribe of that name, which held in partial
subjection the Nyantics near Point Judith. To the west of these, and
about the Thames river, dwelt the still more formidable Pequots, a tribe
which for bravery and ferocity asserted a preeminence in New England
not unlike that which the Iroquois league of the Mohawk valley was fast
winning over all North America east of the Mississippi. North of the
Pequots, the squalid villages of the Nipmucks were scattered over the
beautiful highlands that stretch in long ridges from Quinsigamond to
Nichewaug, and beyond toward blue Monadnock. Westward, in the lower
Connecticut valley, lived the Mohegans, a small but valiant tribe, now
for some time held tributary to their Pequot cousins, and very restive
under the yoke. The thickly wooded mountain ranges between the
Connecticut and the Hudson had few human inhabitants. These hundred
miles of crag and forest were a bulwark none too wide or strong against
the incursions of the terrible Mohawks, whose name sent a shiver of fear
throughout savage New England, and whose forbearance the Nipmucks and
Mohegans were fain to ensure by a yearly payment of blackmail. Each
summer there came two Mohawk elders, secure in the dread that Iroquois
prowess had everywhere inspired; and up and down the Connecticut valley
they seized the tribute of weapons and wampum, and proclaimed the last
harsh edict issued from the savage council at Onondaga. The scowls that
greeted their unwelcome visits were doubtless nowhere fiercer than among
the Mohegans, thus ground down between Mohawk and Pequot as between the
upper and the nether millstone. [Sidenote: From the Indians: the Pequot
supremacy]

Among the various points in which civilized man surpasses the savage
none is more conspicuous than the military brute force which in the
highest civilization is always latent though comparatively seldom
exerted. The sudden intrusion of English warfare into the Indian world
of the seventeenth century may well have seemed to the red men a
supernatural visitation, like the hurricane or the earthquake. The
uncompromising vigour with which the founders of Massachusetts carried
on their work was viewed in some quarters with a dissatisfaction which
soon thrust the English migration into the very heart of the Indian
country.

The first movement, however, was directed against the encroachments of
the New Netherlands. In October, 1634, some men of Plymouth, led by
William Holmes, sailed up the Connecticut river, and, after bandying
threats with a party of Dutch who had built a rude fort on the site of
Hartford, passed on and fortified themselves on the site of Windsor.
Next year Governor Van Twiller sent a company of seventy men to drive
away these intruders, but after reconnoitring the situation the Dutchmen
thought it best not to make an attack. Their little stronghold at
Hartford remained unmolested by the English, and, in order to secure
the communication between this advanced outpost and New Amsterdam, Van
Twiller decided to build another fort at the mouth of the river, but
this time the English were beforehand. Rumours of Dutch designs may
have reached the ears of Lord Say and Sele and Lord Brooke--"fanatic
Brooke," as Scott calls him in "Marmion"--who had obtained from the
Council for New England a grant of territory on the shores of the Sound.
These noblemen chose as their agent the younger John Winthrop, son of
the Massachusetts governor, and this new-comer arrived upon the scene
just in time to drive away Van Twiller's vessel and build an English
fort which in honour of his two patrons he called "Say-Brooke."

Had it not been for seeds of discontent already sown in Massachusetts,
the English hold upon the Connecticut valley might perhaps have been
for a few years confined to these two military outposts at Windsor and
Saybrook. But there were people in Massachusetts who did not look with
favour upon the aristocratic and theocratic features in its polity. The
provision that none but church-members should vote or hold office was
by no means unanimously approved. We see it in the course of another
generation putting altogether too much temporal power into the hands of
the clergy, and we can trace the growth of the opposition to it until in
the reign of Charles II. it becomes a dangerous source of weakness to
Massachusetts. At the outset the opposition seems to have been strongest
in Dorchester, Newtown, and Watertown. When the Board of Assistants
undertook to secure for themselves permanency of tenure, together with
the power of choosing the governor and making the laws, these three
towns sent deputies to Boston to inspect the charter and see if it
authorized any such stretch of power. They were foremost in insisting
that representatives chosen by the towns must have a share in the
general government. Men who held such opinions were naturally unwilling
to increase the political weight of the clergy, who, during these early
disputes and indeed until the downfall of the charter, were inclined to
take aristocratic views and to sympathize with the Board of Assistants.
Cotton declared that democracy was no fit government either for church
or for commonwealth, and the majority of the ministers agreed with
him. Chief among those who did not was the learned and eloquent Thomas
Hooker, pastor of the church at Newtown. When Winthrop, in a letter to
Hooker, defended the restriction of the suffrage on the ground that "the
best part is always the least, and of that best part the wiser part is
always the lesser;" Hooker replied that "in matters which concern the
common good, a general council, chosen by all, to transact businesses
which concern all, I conceive most suitable to rule and most safe for
relief of the whole." It is interesting to meet, on the very threshold
of American history, with such a lucid statement of the strongly
contrasted views which a hundred and fifty years later were to be
represented on a national scale by Hamilton and Jefferson. There were
many in Newtown who took Hooker's view of the matter; and there, as
also in Watertown and Dorchester, which in 1633 took the initiative in
framing town governments with selectmen, a strong disposition was shown
to evade the restrictions upon the suffrage.

While such things were talked about in the summer of 1633 the
adventurous John Oldham was making his way through the forest and over
the mountains into the Connecticut valley, and when he returned to
the coast his glowing accounts set some people to thinking. Two years
afterward a few pioneers from Dorchester pushed through the wilderness
as far as the Plymouth men's fort at Windsor, while a party from
Watertown went farther and came to a halt upon the site of Wethersfield.
A larger party, bringing cattle and such goods as they could carry,
set out in the autumn and succeeded in reaching Windsor. Their winter
supplies were sent around by water to meet them, but early in November
the ships had barely passed the Saybrook fort when they found the river
blocked with ice and were obliged to return to Boston. The sufferings of
the pioneers, thus cut off from the world, were dreadful. Their cattle
perished, and they were reduced to a diet of acorns and ground-nuts.
Some seventy of them, walking on the frozen river to Saybrook, were
so fortunate as to find a crazy little sloop jammed in the ice. They
succeeded in cutting her adrift, and steered themselves back to Boston.
Others surmounted greater obstacles in struggling back through the snow
over the region which the Pullman car now traverses, regardless of
seasons, in three hours. A few grim heroes, the nameless founders of a
noble commonwealth, stayed on the spot and defied starvation. In the
next June, 1636, the Newtown congregation, a hundred or more in number,
led by their sturdy pastor, and bringing with them 160 head of cattle,
made the pilgrimage to the Connecticut valley. Women and children took
part in this pleasant summer journey; Mrs. Hooker, the pastor's wife,
being too ill to walk, was carried on a litter. Thus, in the memorable
year in which our great university was born, did Cambridge become, in
the true Greek sense of a much-abused word, the _metropolis_ or "mother
town" of Hartford. The migration at once became strong in numbers.
During the past twelvemonth a score of ships had brought from England
to Massachusetts more than 3000 souls, and so great an accession made
further movement easy. Hooker's pilgrims were soon followed by the
Dorchester and Watertown congregations, and by the next May 800 people
were living in Windsor, Hartford, and Wethersfield. As we read of these
movements, not of individuals, but of organic communities, united in
allegiance to a church and its pastor, and fervid with the instinct
of self-government, we seem to see Greek history renewed, but with
centuries of added political training. For one year a board of
commissioners from Massachusetts governed the new towns, but at the end
of that time the towns chose representatives and held a General Court at
Hartford, and thus the separate existence of Connecticut was begun. As
for Springfield, which was settled about the same time by a party from
Roxbury, it remained for some years doubtful to which state it belonged.
At the opening session of the General Court, May 31,1638, Mr. Hooker
preached a sermon of wonderful power, in which he maintained that "the
foundation of authority is laid in the free consent of the people,"
"that the choice of public magistrates belongs unto the people by God's
own allowance," and that "they who have power to appoint officers and
magistrates have the right also to set the bounds and limitations of
the power and place unto which they call them." On the 14th of January,
1639, all the freemen of the three towns assembled at Hartford and
adopted a written constitution in which the hand of the great preacher
is clearly discernible. It is worthy of note that this document contains
none of the conventional references to a "dread sovereign" or a
"gracious king," nor the slightest allusion to the British or any other
government outside of Connecticut itself, nor does it prescribe any
condition of church-membership for the right of suffrage. It was the
first written constitution known to history, that created a government,
[10] and it marked the beginnings of American democracy, of which Thomas
Hooker deserves more than any other man to be called the father. The
government of the United States today is in lineal descent more nearly
related to that of Connecticut than to that of any of the other thirteen
colonies. The most noteworthy feature of the Connecticut republic was
that it was a federation of independent towns, and that all attributes
of sovereignty not expressly granted to the General Court remained,
as of original right, in the towns. Moreover, while the governor and
council were chosen by a majority vote of the whole people, and by a
suffrage that was almost universal, there was for each township an
equality of representation in the assembly. [11] This little federal
republic was allowed to develop peacefully and normally; its
constitution was not violently wrenched out of shape like that of
Massachusetts at the end of the seventeenth century. It silently grew
till it became the strongest political structure on the continent, as
was illustrated in the remarkable military energy and the unshaken
financial credit of Connecticut during the Revolutionary War; and in the
chief crisis of the Federal Convention of 1787 Connecticut, with her
compromise which secured equal state representation in one branch of the
national government and popular representation in the other, played the
controlling part. [Sidenote: Connecticut Pioneers] [Sidenote: The first
written constitution]

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