Book: The Beginnings of New England

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




Before the little federation of towns had framed its government, it had
its Indian question to dispose of. Three years before the migration led
by Hooker, a crew of eight traders, while making their way up the river
to the Dutch station on the site of Hartford, had been murdered by a
party of Indians subject to Sassacus, chief sachem of the Pequots.
Negotiations concerning this outrage had gone on between Sassacus and
the government at Boston, and the Pequots had promised to deliver up
the murderers, but had neglected to do so. In the summer of 1636 some
Indians on Block Island subject to the Narragansetts murdered the
pioneer John Oldham, who was sailing on the Sound, and captured his
little vessel. At this, says Underhill, "God stirred up the hearts" of
Governor Vane and the rest of the magistrates. They were determined to
make an end of the Indian question and show the savages that such things
would not be endured. First an embassy was sent to Canonicus and his
nephew Miantonomo, chief sachems of the Narragansetts, who hastened
to disclaim all responsibility for the murder, and to throw the blame
entirely upon the Indians of the island. Vane then sent out three
vessels under command of Endicott, who ravaged Block Island, burning
wigwams, sinking canoes, and slaying dogs, for the men had taken to the
woods. Endicott then crossed to the mainland to reckon with the Pequots.
He demanded the surrender of the murderers, with a thousand fathoms of
wampum for damages; and not getting a satisfactory answer, he attacked
the Indians, killed a score of them, seized their ripe corn, and burned
and spoiled what he could. But such reprisals served only to enrage the
red men. Lyon Gardiner, commander of the Saybrook fort, complained to
Endicott: "You come hither to raise these wasps about my ears; then
you will take wing and flee away." The immediate effect was to incite
Sassacus to do his utmost to compass the ruin of the English. The
superstitious awe with which the white men were at first regarded had
been somewhat lessened by familiar contact with them, as in Aesop's
fable of the fox and the lion. The resources of Indian diplomacy were
exhausted in the attempt to unite the Narragansett warriors with the
Pequots in a grand crusade against the white men. Such a combination
could hardly have been as formidable as that which was effected forty
years afterward in King Philip's war; for the savages had not as yet
become accustomed to firearms, and the English settlements did not
present so many points exposed to attack; but there is no doubt that
it might have wrought fearful havoc. We can, at any rate, find no
difficulty in comprehending the manifold perplexity of the Massachusetts
men at this time, threatened as they were at once by an Indian crusade,
by the machinations of a faithless king, and by a bitter theological
quarrel at home, in this eventful year when they laid aside part of
their incomes to establish Harvard College. [Sidenote: Origin of the
Pequot War]

The schemes of Sassacus were unsuccessful. The hereditary enmity of the
Narragansetts toward their Pequot rivals was too strong to be lightly
overcome. Roger Williams, taking advantage of this feeling, so worked
upon the minds of the Narragansett chiefs that in the autumn of 1636
they sent an embassy to Boston and made a treaty of alliance with the
English. The Pequots were thus left to fight out their own quarrel; and
had they still been separated from the English by the distance between
Boston and the Thames river, the feud might very likely have smouldered
until the drift of events had given a different shape to it. But as the
English had in this very year thrown out their advanced posts into the
lower Connecticut valley, there was clearly no issue from the situation
save in deadly war. All through the winter of 1636-37 the Connecticut
towns were kept in a state of alarm by the savages. Men going to their
work were killed and horribly mangled. A Wethersfield man was kidnapped
and roasted alive. Emboldened by the success of this feat, the Pequots
attacked Wethersfield, massacred ten people, and carried away two girls.
[Sidenote: Sassacus is foiled by Roger Williams] [Sidenote: The Pequots
take the warpath alone]

Wrought up to desperation by these atrocities, the Connecticut men
appealed to Massachusetts and Plymouth for aid, and put into service
ninety of their own number, under command of John Mason, an excellent
and sturdy officer who had won golden opinions from Sir Thomas Fairfax,
under whom he had served in the Netherlands. It took time to get men
from Boston, and all that Massachusetts contributed to the enterprise at
its beginning was that eccentric daredevil John Underhill, with a force
of twenty men. Seventy friendly Mohegans, under their chief Uncas, eager
to see vengeance wrought upon their Pequot oppressors, accompanied the
expedition. From the fort at Saybrook this little company set sail on
the twentieth of May, 1637, and landed in brilliant moonlight near Point
Judith, where they were reinforced by four hundred Narragansetts and
Nyantics. From this point they turned westward toward the stronghold of
the Pequots, near the place where the town of Stonington now stands. As
they approached the dreaded spot the courage of the Indian allies gave
out, and they slunk behind, declaring that Sassacus was a god whom
it was useless to think of attacking. The force with which Mason
and Underhill advanced to the fray consisted of just seventy-seven
Englishmen. Their task was to assault and carry an entrenched fort or
walled village containing seven hundred Pequots. The fort was a
circle of two or three acres in area, girdled by a palisade of
sturdy sapling-trunks, set firm and deep into the ground, the narrow
interstices between them serving as loopholes wherefrom to reconnoitre
any one passing by and to shoot at assailants. At opposite sides of
this stronghold were two openings barely large enough to let any one go
through. Within this enclosure were the crowded wigwams. The attack was
skilfully managed, and was a complete surprise. A little before daybreak
Mason, with sixteen men, occupied one of the doors, while Underhill made
sure of the other. The Indians in panic sought first one outlet and then
the other, and were ruthlessly shot down, whichever way they turned. A
few succeeded in breaking loose, but these were caught and tomahawked by
the Indian allies, who, though afraid to take the risks of the fight,
were ready enough to help slay the fugitives. The English threw
firebrands among the wigwams, and soon the whole village was in a light
blaze, and most of the savages suffered the horrible death which they
were so fond of inflicting upon their captives. Of the seven hundred
Pequots in the stronghold, but five got away with their lives. All this
bloody work had been done in less than an hour, and of the English there
had been two killed and sixteen wounded. It was the end of the Pequot
nation. Of the remnant which had not been included in this wholesale
slaughter, most were soon afterwards destroyed piecemeal in a running
fight which extended as far westward as the site of Fairfield. Sassacus
fled across the Hudson river to the Mohawks, who slew him and sent his
scalp to Boston, as a peace-offering to the English. The few survivors
were divided between the Mohegans and Narragansetts and adopted into
those tribes. Truly the work was done with Cromwellian thoroughness. The
tribe which had lorded it so fiercely over the New England forests was
all at once wiped out of existence. So terrible a vengeance the Indians
had never heard of. If the name of Pequot had hitherto been a name of
terror, so now did the Englishmen win the inheritance of that deadly
prestige. Not for eight-and-thirty years after the destruction of the
Pequots, not until a generation of red men had grown up that knew not
Underhill and Mason, did the Indian of New England dare again to lift
his hand against the white man. [Sidenote: And are exterminated]

Such scenes of wholesale slaughter are not pleasant reading in this
milder age. But our forefathers felt that the wars of Canaan afforded
a sound precedent for such cases; and, indeed, if we remember what
the soldiers of Tilly and Wallenstein were doing at this very time in
Germany, we shall realize that the work of Mason and Underhill would not
have been felt by any one in that age to merit censure or stand in need
of excuses. As a matter of practical policy the annihilation of the
Pequots can be condemned only by those who read history so incorrectly
as to suppose that savages, whose business is to torture and slay, can
always be dealt with according to the methods in use between civilized
peoples. A mighty nation, like the United States, is in honour bound to
treat the red man with scrupulous justice and refrain from cruelty in
punishing his delinquencies. But if the founders of Connecticut, in
confronting a danger which threatened their very existence, struck with
savage fierceness, we cannot blame them. The world is so made that it
is only in that way that the higher races have been able to preserve
themselves and carry on their progressive work.

The overthrow of the Pequots was a cardinal event in the planting of
New England. It removed the chief obstacle to the colonization of
the Connecticut coast, and brought the inland settlements into such
unimpeded communication with those on tide-water as to prepare the way
for the formation of the New England confederacy. Its first fruits were
seen in the direction taken by the next wave of migration, which ended
the Puritan exodus from England to America. About a month after the
storming of the palisaded village there arrived in Boston a company of
wealthy London merchants, with their families. The most prominent among
them, Theophilus Eaton, was a member of the Company of Massachusetts
Bay. Their pastor, John Davenport, was an eloquent preacher and a man of
power. He was a graduate of Oxford, and in 1624 had been chosen vicar
of St. Stephen's parish, in Coleman street, London. When he heard that
Cotton and Hooker were about to sail for America, he sought earnestly to
turn them from what he deemed the error of their ways, but instead he
became converted himself and soon incurred the especial enmity of Laud,
so that it became necessary for him to flee to Amsterdam. In 1636 he
returned to England, and in concert with Eaton organized a scheme of
emigration that included men from Yorkshire, Hertfordshire, and Kent.
The leaders arrived in Boston in the midst of the Antinomian disputes,
and although Davenport won admiration for his skill in battling with
heresy, he may perhaps have deemed it preferable to lead his flock
to some new spot in the wilderness where such warfare might not be
required. The merchants desired a fine harbour and good commercial
situation, and the reports of the men who returned from hunting the
Pequots told them of just such a spot at Quinnipiack on Long Island
Sound. Here they could carry out their plan of putting into practice
a theocratic ideal even more rigid than that which obtained in
Massachusetts, and arrange their civil as well as ecclesiastical affairs
in accordance with rules to be obtained from a minute study of the
Scriptures. [Sidenote: The colony of New Haven]

In the spring of 1638 the town of New Haven was accordingly founded.
The next year a swarm from this new town settled Milford, while another
party, freshly arrived from England, made the beginnings of Guilford. In
1640 Stamford was added to the group, and in 1643 the four towns were
united into the republic of New Haven, to which Southold, on Long
Island, and Branford were afterwards added. As being a confederation of
independent towns, New Haven resembled Connecticut. In other respects
the differences between the two reflected the differences between
Davenport and Hooker; the latter was what would now be called more
radical than Winthrop or Cotton, the former was more conservative.
In the New Haven colony none but church-members could vote, and this
measure at the outset disfranchised more than half the settlers in New
Haven town, nearly half in Guilford, and less than one fifth in Milford.
This result was practically less democratic than in Massachusetts where
it was some time before the disfranchisement attained such dimensions.
The power of the clergy reached its extreme point in New Haven, where
each of the towns was governed by seven ecclesiastical officers known as
"pillars of the church." These magistrates served as judges, and trial
by jury was dispensed with, because no authority could be found for it
in the laws of Moses. The legislation was quaint enough, though the
famous "Blue Laws" of New Haven, which have been made the theme of so
many jests at the expense of our forefathers, never really existed. The
story of the Blue Laws was first published in 1781 by the Rev. Samuel
Peters, a Tory refugee in London, who took delight in horrifying our
British cousins with tales of wholesale tarring and feathering done by
the patriots of the Revolution. In point of strict veracity Dr. Peters
reminds one of Baron Munchausen; he declares that the river at Bellows
Falls flows so fast as to float iron crowbars, and he gravely describes
sundry animals who were evidently cousins to the Jabberwok. The most
famous passage of his pretended code is that which enacts that "no woman
shall kiss her child on the Sabbath," and that "no one shall play on any
instrument of music except the drum, trumpet, or jewsharp." [Sidenote:
Legend of the "Blue Laws"]

When the Long Parliament met in 1640, the Puritan exodus to New England
came to an end. During the twenty years which had elapsed since the
voyage of the Mayflower, the population had grown to 26,000 souls. Of
this number scarcely 500 had arrived before 1629. It is a striking fact,
since it expresses a causal relation and not a mere coincidence, that
the eleven years, 1629-1640, during which Charles I. governed England
without a parliament, were the same eleven years that witnessed the
planting of New England. For more than a century after this there was no
considerable migration to this part of North America. Puritan England
now found employment for all its energies and all its enthusiasm at
home. The struggle with the king and the efforts toward reorganization
under Cromwell were to occupy it for another score of years, and
then, by the time of the Restoration the youthful creative energy of
Puritanism had spent itself. The influence of this great movement
was indeed destined to grow wider and deeper with the progress of
civilization, but after 1660 its creative work began to run in new
channels and assume different forms. [Sidenote: End of the Puritan
exodus]

It is curious to reflect what might have been the result, to America and
to the world, had things in England gone differently between 1620 and
1660. Had the policy of James and Charles been less formidable, the
Puritan exodus might never have occurred, and the Virginian type of
society, varied perhaps by a strong Dutch infusion, might have become
supreme in America. The western continent would have lost in richness
and variety of life, and it is not likely that Europe would have made a
corresponding gain, for the moral effect of the challenge, the struggle,
and the overthrow of monarchy in England was a stimulus sorely needed
by neighbouring peoples. It is not always by avoiding the evil, it
is rather by grappling with it and conquering it that character is
strengthened and life enriched, and there is no better example of this
than the history of England in the seventeenth century.

On the other hand, if the Stuart despotism had triumphed in England, the
Puritan exodus would doubtless have been swelled to huge dimensions. New
England would have gained strength so quickly that much less irritation
than she actually suffered between 1664 and 1689 would probably have
goaded her into rebellion. The war of independence might have been waged
a century sooner than it was. It is not easy to point to any especial
advantage that could have come to America from this; one is rather
inclined to think of the peculiarly valuable political training of the
eighteenth century that would have been lost. Such surmises are for the
most part idle. But as concerns Europe, it is plain to be seen, for
reasons stated in my first chapter, that the decisive victory of Charles
I. would have been a calamity of the first magnitude. It would have been
like the Greeks losing Marathon or the Saracens winning Tours, supposing
the worst consequences ever imagined in those hypothetical cases to have
been realized. Or taking a more contracted view, we can see how England,
robbed of her Puritan element, might still have waxed in strength, as
France has done in spite of losing the Huguenots; but she could not
have taken the proud position that she has come to occupy as mother of
nations. Her preeminence since Cromwell's time has been chiefly due to
her unrivalled power of planting self-supporting colonies, and that
power has had its roots in English self-government. It is the vitality
of the English Idea that is making the language of Cromwell and
Washington dominant in the world.




CHAPTER IV.

THE NEW ENGLAND CONFEDERACY.


The Puritan exodus to New England, which came to an end about 1640, was
purely and exclusively English. There was nothing in it that came from
the continent of Europe, nothing that was either Irish or Scotch, very
little that was Welsh. As Palfrey says, the population of 26,000 that
had been planted in New England by 1640 "thenceforward continued to
multiply on its own soil for a century and a half, in remarkable
seclusion from other communities." During the whole of this period New
England received but few immigrants; and it was not until after the
Revolutionary War that its people had fairly started on their westward
march into the state of New York and beyond, until now, after yet
another century, we find some of their descendants dwelling in a
homelike Salem and a Portland of charming beauty on the Pacific coast.
Three times between the meeting of the Long Parliament and the meeting
of the Continental Congress did the New England colonies receive a
slight infusion of non-English blood. In 1652, after his victories at
Dunbar and Worcester, Cromwell sent 270 of his Scottish prisoners to
Boston, where the descendants of some of them still dwell. After the
revocation of the Edict of Nantes in 1685, 150 families of Huguenots
came to Massachusetts. And finally in 1719, 120 Presbyterian families
came over from the north of Ireland, and settled at Londonderry in New
Hampshire, and elsewhere. In view of these facts it may be said that
there is not a county in England of which the population is more purely
English than the population of New England at the end of the eighteenth
century. From long and careful research, Mr. Savage, the highest
authority on this subject, concludes that more than 98 in 100 of the New
England people at that time could trace their origin to England in
the narrowest sense, excluding even Wales. As already observed, every
English shire contributed something to the emigration, but there was
a marked preponderance of people from the East Anglian counties.
[Sidenote: The exodus was purely English]

The population of New England was nearly as homogeneous in social
condition as it was in blood. The emigration was preeminent for its
respectability. Like the best part of the emigration to Virginia, it
consisted largely of country squires and yeomen. The men who followed
Winthrop were thrifty and prosperous in their old homes from which their
devotion to an idea made them voluntary exiles. They attached so much
importance to regular industry and decorous behaviour that for a long
time the needy and shiftless people who usually make trouble in new
colonies were not tolerated among them. Hence the early history of New
England is remarkably free from those scenes of violence and disorder
which have so often made hideous the first years of new communities.
Of negro slaves there were very few, and these were employed wholly in
domestic service; there were not enough of them to affect the industrial
life of New England or to be worth mentioning as a class. Neither were
there many of the wretched people, kidnapped from the jails and slums
of English sea-ports, such as in those early days when negro labour was
scarce, were sent by ship-loads to Virginia, to become the progenitors
of the "white trash." There were a few indented white servants, usually
of the class known as "redemptioners," or immigrants who voluntarily
bound themselves to service for a stated time in order to defray the
cost of their voyage from Europe. At a later time there were many of
these "redemptioners" in the middle colonies, but in New England they
were very few; and as no stigma of servitude was attached to manual
labour, they were apt at the end of their terms of service to become
independent farmers; thus they ceased to be recognizable as a distinct
class of society. Nevertheless the common statement that no traces of
the "mean white" are to be found in New England is perhaps somewhat
too sweeping. Interspersed among those respectable and tidy mountain
villages, once full of such vigorous life, one sometimes comes upon
little isolated groups of wretched hovels whose local reputation is
sufficiently indicated by such terse epithets as "Hardscrabble" or
"Hell-huddle." Their denizens may in many instances be the degenerate
offspring of a sound New England stock, but they sometimes show strong
points of resemblance to that "white trash" which has come to be a
recognizable strain of the English race; and one cannot help suspecting
that while the New England colonies made every effort to keep out such
riff raff, it may nevertheless have now and then crept in. However this
may be, it cannot be said that this element ever formed a noticeable
feature in the life of colonial New England. As regards their social
derivation, the settlers of New England were homogeneous in character to
a remarkable degree, and they were drawn from the sturdiest part of
the English stock. In all history there has been no other instance of
colonization so exclusively effected by picked and chosen men. The
colonists knew this, and were proud of it, as well they might be. It was
the simple truth that was spoken by William Stoughton when he said, in
his election sermon of 1688: "God sifted a whole nation, that He might
send choice grain into the wilderness." [Sidenote: Respectable character
of the emigration]

This matter comes to have more than a local interest, when we reflect
that the 26,000 New Englanders of 1640 have in two hundred and fifty
years increased to something like 15,000,000. From these men have come
at least one-fourth of the present population of the United States.
Striking as this fact may seem, it is perhaps less striking than the
fact of the original migration when duly considered. In these times,
when great steamers sail every day from European ports, bringing
immigrants to a country not less advanced in material civilization
than the country which they leave, the daily arrival of a thousand new
citizens has come to be a commonplace event. But in the seventeenth
century the transfer of more than twenty thousand well-to-do people
within twenty years from their comfortable homes in England to the
American wilderness was by no means a commonplace event. It reminds one
of the migrations of ancient peoples, and in the quaint thought of
our forefathers it was aptly likened to the exodus of Israel from the
Egyptian house of bondage.

In this migration a principle of selection was at work which insured an
extraordinary uniformity of character and of purpose among the settlers.
To this uniformity of purpose, combined with complete homogeneity of
race, is due the preponderance early acquired by New England in the
history of the American people. In view of this, it is worth while to
inquire what were the real aims of the settlers of New England. What was
the common purpose which brought these men together in their resolve to
create for themselves new homes in the wilderness?

This is a point concerning which there has been a great deal of popular
misapprehension, and there has been no end of nonsense talked about it.
It has been customary first to assume that the Puritan migration was
undertaken in the interests of religious liberty, and then to upbraid
the Puritans for forgetting all about religious liberty as soon as
people came among them who disagreed with their opinions. But this view
of the case is not supported by history. It is quite true that the
Puritans were chargeable with gross intolerance; but it is not true that
in this they were guilty of inconsistency. The notion that they came to
New England for the purpose of establishing religious liberty, in
any sense in which we should understand such a phrase, is entirely
incorrect. It is neither more nor less than a bit of popular legend. If
we mean by the phrase "religious liberty" a state of things in which
opposite or contradictory opinions on questions of religion shall exist
side by side in the same community, and in which everybody shall
decide for himself how far he will conform to the customary religious
observances, nothing could have been further from their thoughts. There
is nothing they would have regarded with more genuine abhorrence. If
they could have been forewarned by a prophetic voice of the general
freedom--or, as they would have termed it, license--of thought and
behaviour which prevails in this country to-day, they would very likely
have abandoned their enterprise in despair. [12] The philosophic student
of history often has occasion to see how God is wiser than man. In other
words, he is often brought to realize how fortunate it is that the
leaders in great historic events cannot foresee the remote results of
the labours to which they have zealously consecrated their lives. It is
part of the irony of human destiny that the end we really accomplish by
striving with might and main is apt to be something quite different from
the end we dreamed of as we started on our arduous labour. So it was
with the Puritan settlers of New England. The religious liberty that
we enjoy to-day is largely the consequence of their work; but it is a
consequence that was unforeseen, while the direct and conscious aim of
their labours was something that has never been realized, and probably
never will be. [Sidenote: The migration was not intended to promote what
we call religious liberty]

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