CHAPTER IX.

TERRITORY OF RHODE ISLAND IS INCREASED BY THE ADDITION OF BLOCK ISLAND.—DISPUTES BETWEEN BLOCK ISLAND AND THE OTHER COLONIES SETTLED BY ROYAL COMMAND.—STATE OF AFFAIRS IN THE COLONY IN 1667.

The charter came at a fortunate moment, for petition and remonstrance had reached their utmost, and it is difficult to see how the little Colony could have preserved the integrity of its territory much longer against two such powerful neighbors but for the intervention of an authority that was recognized by all. The services of John Clarke must be estimated by the imminence of the danger, and his skill by the difficulty of the negotiation. Meanwhile the territories of Rhode Island were enlarged in another direction.

Block Island has already been mentioned in connection with the Pequot war. In 1658 it was granted by Massachusetts, in whose hands the war had left it, to Governor John Endicott and three others, as a reward for their public services. Endicott and his associates sold it to Simon Ray and eight associates, who, in 1661, entered upon their work of colonization by liquidating the Indian title with a reservation in favor of the natives, and setting apart one-sixteenth of thelands for the support of a minister forever. The new settlement had not yet reached its third year when it passed under the jurisdiction of Rhode Island, and, in the May session of the General Assembly for 1663, was summoned to appear at the bar of the house and be regularly received into the Colony. At the appointed time three messengers presented themselves, bringing the submission of the inhabitants to “his Majesty’s will,” and a petition of householders for the freedom of the island. Three select men were chosen to govern it with power to “call town meetings,” hear causes under forty shillings, and where a greater amount was involved, grant appeals to the General Court of Trials, and “issue warrants in criminal cases.” Their representation in the Assembly was fixed at two, and their attention was called to the clause in the charter declaring freedom of conscience. The question of a harbor for the encouragement of the fisheries soon attracted the attention of the Assembly, and, as early as 1665, we find John Clarke with the Governor and Deputy-Governor examining this important subject on the spot. But it was no work for a feeble Colony, and it was not till two hundred years later and under a rich and powerful national government that it was begun. Meanwhile the population grew and throve under colonial protection. Nine years after its first civil organization Block Island was incorporated under the name of New Shoreham, “as sign,” say the petitioners, “ofour unity and likeness to many parts of our native country.”

The conflict of patents did not end with the promulgation of the second charter. Massachusetts and Connecticut still persisted in their claims, and Rhode Island in her resistance. Fortunately for her the final decision lay with the Crown, and, although both of the intruding colonies made repeated attempts to set up governments of their own within the limits of the disputed territory, they were restrained from persistent violence by the knowledge that Rhode Island claimed and was prepared to exercise the right of appeal. An opportunity soon offered of making an important step towards decision. Four Commissioners—Colonel Richard Nichols, Sir Robert Carr, George Cartwright and Samuel Maverick—were ordered to proceed to America, reduce the Dutch provinces, and decide all questions of appeal, jurisdiction and boundary between the colonies. On their arrival in New York harbor, where they made the British fleet their headquarters, Rhode Island sent a deputation of three, with John Clarke at their head, to welcome the Royal Commissioners in the name of the Colony.

They set themselves promptly to their work. The first question that came up for decision was the boundary line between Rhode Island and Plymouth. This they were unable to settle, and reserved it for reference to the King. Next camethe vexed question of Narragansett. The submission of the sachems was confirmed, an annual tribute of two wolf-skins imposed, and the right to make war and sell land reserved to the authorities set over them by the Crown. A new division of the territory followed, all of the land west of the Bay, the southern half of the present Kent County, being set apart as King’s Province, under the administration of the Governor and Council of Rhode Island, as magistrates of King’s Province. Last came the bitter Warwick question, which had almost led to bloodshed. This was decided in favor of Rhode Island, upon the ground that no colony had a right to exercise jurisdiction beyond its chartered limits. It would have been well for the three colonies if the dispute had ended here. But neither Massachusetts nor Connecticut was satisfied. It was hard to give up the beautiful Narragansett Bay, “the largest,” say the Commissioners, “and safest port in New England, nearest the sea and fittest for trade.”

The Indian was fast disappearing, and sometimes under circumstances which awaken a natural regret that where adverse civilizations met so little could be done for the individual. The old Sachem Pumham still clung to his home in the woodlands of Warwick Neck, encouraged, it was believed, by the hope of support from Massachusetts. John Eliot, the translator of the Bible, interceded for him. Roger Williams asked for alittle delay till the harvest was in. But twenty years experience had shown that his residence there was incompatible with the peace of the Colony. Sir Robert Carr, the Royal Commissioner, met Eliot’s intercession by sending him copies of all the papers relating to the question, and so far satisfied the scruples of Williams as to secure his hearty coöperation in the removal of this thorn from the side of the struggling Colony. Thirty pounds were paid into the hands of the old chief, a large sum for those days of general poverty, and he removed forever beyond the limits of King’s Province.

The Royal Commissioners on their arrival in Rhode Island had laid before the Assembly five propositions as “the will and pleasure of the King:”

“1st. That all householders inhabiting the Colony take the oath of allegiance, and that the administration of justice be in his Majesty’s name.”

This brought up the delicate question of oaths, which, recurring from time to time, was gradually shaped by successive modifications so as to meet the demands of government without infringing upon the principle of soul-liberty.

“2d. That all men of competent estates and of civil conversation, who acknowledge and are obedient to the civil magistrate, though of different judgments, may be admitted to be freemenand have liberty to chose and to be chosen, officers, both military and civil.”

This was accepted and the mode of admitting freemen prescribed.

“3d. That all men and women of orthodox opinion, competent knowledge and civil lives, who acknowledge and are obedient to the civil magistrate and are not scandalous, may be admitted to the Sacrament of the Lord’s Supper, and their children to Baptism, if they desire it, either by admitting them into the congregations already gathered, or permitting them to gather themselves into such congregations where they may enjoy the benefit of the Sacraments, and that difference of opinion may not break the bonds of peace and charity.”

If we interpret the word orthodox according to the Rhode Island standard of theological interpretation, this was already Rhode Island doctrine and required no deliberation.

“4th. That all laws and expressions in laws derogatory to his Majesty, if any such have been made in these late and troublesome times, may be repealed, altered and taken off the files.”

This, also, was accepted, and a revision of the laws ordered for that purpose.

“5th. That the Colony be put in such a posture of defence that if there should be any invasion upon this island, or elsewhere in this Colony (which God forbid) you might in some measurebe in readiness to defend yourselves, or if need be to relieve your neighbors, according to the power given you by the King in your charter and to us in the King’s commission and instructions.”

This, also, struck a familiar cord. Provisions for self-defence had already been made as circumstances called for them. A new militia law was now passed, requiring six trainings a year under heavy penalties, and allowing nine shillings a year for each enlisted soldier. Every man was to keep on hand two pounds of powder and four of lead, and each town was required to maintain a public magazine. To defray the expenses of these magazines Newport was taxed fifty pounds, and the other three towns twenty pounds each.

The Royal Commissioners were well satisfied with the conduct of Rhode Island, and Rhode Island, surrounded by powerful enemies, had every reason to be well satisfied with the Commissioners. Still the encroachments and aggressions of Massachusetts and Connecticut continued. As a prospective means of defence against them John Clarke was again asked to carry the complaints of the suffering Colony to England, and John Greene was chosen to accompany him. In 1672 a new claimant appeared in the lists.

The Council of Plymouth had been lavish of its gifts of land, and in its ignorance of American geography had formed a perplexing map of conflicting claims. In one of its grants it had given the greater part of Maine, together withNantucket, Martha’s Vineyard, Long Island and the adjacent islands, to the Earl of Stirling. The Earl of Stirling sold his grant to the Duke of York, already proprietor by royal gift of the recently conquered province of New Netherlands. The term adjacent islands would have included Acquidneck and the other islands of Narragansett Bay. Prudence, one of the pleasantest and most valuable of them, had been bought of the Indian proprietors by Roger Williams and John Winthrop. In the course of time it passed by regular sale to John Paine, a Boston merchant, who had won the favor of the Duke of York by contributing liberally to the rebuilding of Fort James, in New York harbor. Governor Lovelace, the Duke’s attorney, felt that such liberality was deserving of a signal reward. Paine was already the owner of Prudence. Lovelace resolved to make it a free-manor by the name of Toply manor, and confer the governership for life on Paine. By a second grant the original quit-rent of two barrels of cider and six pairs of capons was remitted, and this territory of seven miles in length became an untaxed and independent government.

But Rhode Island was an uncongenial soil for feudal tenures. Paine was arrested, indicted and convicted under the law of 1658 against the introduction of a foreign jurisdiction, and Prudence without any formal act of adjustment returned to its original position as a part of Portsmouth.

Thus the Rhode Island Colony grew apace. From time to time questions of practical government arose, to be worked out and solved by experience. It was not easy to make citizens feel their duty to the State. More than once the Assembly failed in attendance, to the serious detriment of the public. Fines were imposed, and that some inducement to greater regularity might be held out, a small pay of three shillings a day, which was soon reduced to two, was attached to the function of delegate. To facilitate the expression of opinion voting by proxy was permitted, and to secure the election of the most acceptable candidate it was enacted, “that whereas there may happen a division in the vote soe that the greater half may not pitch decidedly on one certaine person, yett the person which hath the most votes shall be deemed lawfully chosen.” The laws of the Colony had been the growth of circumstances, expressing new wants and representing a progressive society. Committees were appointed on several occasions to revise and harmonize them. On the committee of October, 1664, we find Roger Williams and John Clarke.

The progress of society has established a fundamental distinction between legislative, executive and judicial powers, which was not known to ancient publicists. The Court of Trials was composed of members of the Assembly, and thus the whole body of law-makers was gradually led to exercise judicial authority.

The Colony was poor, and the persecutions of Massachusetts and Connecticut compelled it to incur expenses greatly beyond its means. When Roger Williams went on his second mission to England he sold part of his estates in order to raise the money for his expenses. When John Clarke was sent to negotiate the second charter he was obliged to burthen his estate with a mortgage. The whole sum due him by the Colony was but three hundred and forty-three pounds, and yet so hard was it to collect the tax by which this sum was to be paid that it was not until twenty years after his death that the mortgage was lifted.

Internal dissensions and the alarm of foreign war troubled the Colony in 1667. Two names long prominent in Rhode Island, Harris and Fenner, appear at the head of two hostile factions in Providence and continue for a while to disturb the public peace. England, whose wars now found a reëcho in the colonies, was again at war with France and Holland. Efficient measures were taken to put the Colony in a state of defence, and thus new burthens were imposed. A council of war was organized in each town. Ammunition was collected. Officers were commissioned. Cannon were mounted at Newport. Cavalry corps were formed in the towns. The Governor and Council met in frequent deliberations. The Indians were disarmed and sent off the Island. A line of beacons was establishedfrom Wonumytomoni Hill, near Newport, to Mooshausick Hill, in Providence. Abundant proof was given of the energy and good statesmanship of the Colony. But the day of real trial was not yet come.

The question of taxation was an early cause of difficulty. The poorer towns felt themselves aggrieved, and often put insuperable obstacles in the way of the collector. Even the tax for the payment of John Clarke was disputed, and Roger Williams drew upon himself a severe condemnation from Warwick by a letter wherein he urged its payment. At last, in 1672, the Assembly took the matter seriously in hand and passed a bill declaring, “that whoever opposed by word or deed, in town meeting or elsewhere, any rate laid, or any other of the acts or orders of the General Assembly should be bound over to the Court of Trials, or imprisoned till it meet, at the discretion of the justice, for high contempt and sedition; and if found guilty, should be fined, imprisoned or whipped, as the court might adjudge.”

It was not altogether without reason that this stringent act was passed, for the aggressions of Connecticut and the alarm of an Indian war made it necessary to strengthen as far as possible the hands of government. But there was a danger in this legislative omnipotence which the people quickly perceived, and the new Assembly of May undid by a comprehensive repeal the work of its predecessor of April.

KING PHILIP’S WAR.

I have now reached the story of the longest and bloodiest war which the colonists had yet waged with the Indian. It is known in colonial history as King Philip’s war, and belongs more to the histories of Massachusetts and Connecticut than to that of Rhode Island, although two of its bloodiest battles were fought on Rhode Island soil. Like all wars with barbarians it is filled with strange mixtures of barbarism and heroism, the savage warrior often rising in the pursuit of his ideal to a moral grandeur which his civilized antagonist failed to attain. And although like the war with the Pequots it was fatal to those who began it, it has left one of great names of Indian history, and brought into play some of the greatest traits of Indian character.

First and most faithful of the allies of the English was Massasoit, Sachem of the Wamponoags. A pestilence too malignant to be controlled by the medical science of the natives had decimated his tribe and exposed him to the ambition of the Narragansetts, his immediate neighbors, a little before the arrival of the Pilgrims. Perceiving only the present danger, he looked upon theadvent of the white man as a means of preserving his independence, and eagerly made a covenant with him which he faithfully kept to the end of his life, (1661). At his death his eldest son, Wamsutta, or Alexander as he was called by the English, succeeded to his authority, but not to the confidence of his allies. Suspicion arose; he was accused of plotting against the colonists, and though an independent chief, summoned to appear at the General Court at Plymouth. Disobeying the summons, he was threatened with personal violence, and reluctantly yielding set forth with his warriors and women, some eighty in all, under the escort of a small body of troops commanded by Major Winslow. The indignity was too great for the unfortunate chief. Winslow saw that he was sinking under fatigue—for the weather was very hot—and wounded pride, for wrong was hard to bear. “Take my horse,” he said, touched with compassion. “No!” replied the chief with a last touch of pride, “there are no horses for my wife and the other women.” When they reached Winslow’s house, which was on the way he sickened, and though allowed to turn back, quickly died. Deep was the indignation of the Indians at this treatment of their sachem, and even some of the colonists felt that they had gone too far.

But there was one among them into whose breast the wrong sank deepest, for it called him to avenge not only a chief but a brother. Thatbrother was known in colonial history as Philip of Pocanoket. The story of Philip has been variously told, some looking upon him as a crafty savage loving the wiles and cruelty of Indian warfare and fighting with no other object than immediate success; others as an Indian patriot contending for the independence of his country. In either case, if we judge him by the standard of his own people, he was a great ruler in peace and a valiant leader in war.

We are told that it was a sore grief to the young sachem to see the white man daily taking a firmer hold of the soil, and the red man melting before him. But how could the march of the invader be stayed? The arrow was a feeble weapon with which to oppose the firelock, the tomahawk even in the strongest hand was no match for the sabre. The foresight, judgment, method and power of combination of the white man enabled him to provide for the future while making wise provision for the present. While he was well supplied with food, the Indian was starving. While he was warmly clad, the Indian was exposed almost naked to the rudest blasts of winter. Philip saw the danger and resolved to face it.

His first step was to secure allies by winning over the neighboring tribes. It was a broad field for diplomacy, wherein Indian not Christian ethics prevailed, and was well suited to his bold and wily nature. Yet with all his wiles he could not so completely cover his track as not to excitethe suspicions of the English. He was summoned to Plymouth and closely questioned. But the hour for action was not yet come and he succeeded in allaying suspicions by giving up his arms.

But treason beset his path. A “praying Indian,” as the converts of Eliot were called, who had lived some years with Philip as secretary and counselor, betrayed the secret of the sachem’s preparations. The betrayal cost him his life but saved the Colony by compelling Philip to begin his outbreak before his preparations were completed. It is said that when he saw the necessity he cast himself upon the ground and wept bitterly.

But there was no escaping it, and collecting his forces he fell upon the settlements with fire and sword, and what was still more dreaded, the scalping knife and tomahawk. The first to feel his fury was the border town of Swanzey, where houses and barns were burnt and nine of the inhabitants put to death and seven wounded. Succor came promptly from Plymouth and Boston. The Indians fell back upon Mount Hope, Philip’s favorite seat. Mutilated corpses and burning dwellings marked the track of the pursued. The pursuer looked round him in vain for an enemy. A few dogs prowled round the deserted wigwams, but not an Indian was to be seen.

And here comes into view one of the boldest leaders of the colonists in their wars with thenatives, Benjamin Church, of Plymouth, a man skilled in all the arts of Indian warfare, and in whose ardent nature a sound judgment and self-control were combined with intrepidity and enterprise. He pressed close upon the track of the enemy, crossed the bay to Aquidneck, and after a six hours’ fight with a superior force was compelled to take refuge on board a sloop just as his ammunition began to fail.

The war was fairly begun, and for over a twelvemonth raged with various fortunes but unabated fury. Plymouth and Massachusetts suffered most, but it left bloody traces in Rhode Island also.

For unfortunately for Rhode Island, Philip’s favorite seat was that beautiful range of hills, some twelve miles long, which separates the Taunton River and Mount Hope Bay from Narragansett Bay, thus bringing him within the limits of the present Town of Bristol. Tradition still points to a rock on the southernmost hill where the “noble savage” loved to sit and gaze on the waters as they held their way to the Atlantic, revolving, perhaps, in his embittered mind, a bloody vengeance upon his arrogant foe. It was from Mount Hope that he set forth to strike his first blow, and thither that he returned to fall by the hand of a traitor. “But a small part of the domain of my ancestors is left,” he said to his friend, John Borden. “I am determined not to live till I have no country.”

Part only of the bloody record as I havealready said belongs to Rhode Island. In the modern Town of Tiverton, known in those earlier colonial days as Pocasset, there was a swamp—seven miles in length—one of those difficult spots wherein Indian warriors love to concentrate their forces in the hour of danger. Here, amidst intricate paths and trembling morasses Philip first awaited the assault of the enemy. The colonists came up bravely to the charge, but were bravely repulsed with the loss of sixteen men. Then they resolved to take possession of the avenues to the swamp and starve the Indians into surrender. But the wily Philip after standing a siege of thirteen days made good his escape by night and took refuge on the Connecticut River, where he was joined by the Nipmucks, a Massachusetts tribe which he had won over to his fortunes. Surprises, pursuits, gallant stands, fearful massacres follow. At Brookfield it is an ambush followed by a siege. At Deerfield there was a battle in which the Indians were worsted, then a second trial of strength in which the town was burnt. At Hadley the enemy came while the inhabitants were in the meeting-house engaged in their devotions. For a while the men, who had brought their arms with them and were well trained to the use of them, thus held their ground firmly. But the surprise had shaken their nerves, and they were beginning to cast anxious glances around them, when suddenly in their midst appeared a venerable man clad in the habilimentsof another age and with a sword in his hand. With a clear, firm voice he roused the flagging courage of the villagers, reformed their ranks and led them to the charge. A Roman would have taken him for one of the Dioscuri—a Spaniard for St. Jago. What wonder that the Hadleyites thought him a divine messenger, and if with such a proof of God’s favor to inspirit them, they sprang forward with dauntless hearts and drove their enemy before them. When the victory was won, the same clear voice bade them bow their heads in prayer, and when they raised them again the mysterious speaker was gone. None but the village preacher knew that it was Goffe, the regicide.

A surprise and massacre have left their name to Bloody Brook. Springfield was burned. But at Hatfield Philip received a check, and having laid waste the western frontier of Massachusetts, turned his steps toward the land of the Narragansetts. For the success of the war depended mainly upon the decision of that still powerful tribe. In the beginning a doubtful treaty had been patched up between them and the English. But their hearts were with their own race, and when Philip came they resolved to cast in their fortunes with his. The colonists prepared themselves sternly for the contest. Fifteen hundred men were enlisted in Massachusetts, Plymouth and Connecticut; a body of friendly Indians joined them, and though it was mid-winter, thinking only of the necessity of striking a decisiveblow they began their march. Volunteers from Rhode Island joined them on the way, but Rhode Island as a colony was not consulted.

The Narragansetts were on their own ground and had chosen the strongest point for their winter quarters. It was an island of between three and four acres in the midst of a vast swamp in the southwestern part of the State, three or four miles from the present village of Kingston. To the trees and other natural defences the Indian chief had added palisades and such appliances as his rude engineering suggested. Here he had built his wigwams and stored his provisions, and prepared to pass the winter.

Towards this fated spot at the dawn of a December Sabbath the little army of Puritans took their way. The snow was falling fast and the wind dashed it in their faces, but bated not their speed. By one they were in front of the stronghold, and though weary with the long march and faint with hunger they pressed eagerly forward. The only entrance was over the trunk of a tree. The Indian guns and arrows covered every foot of the way. The colonists undaunted rushed on—officers in the van. First to feel the murderous Indian aim was Captain Johnson, of Roxbury. Captain Davenport, of Boston, fell next, but before he fell penetrated the enclosure. More than two hours the battle raged with unabated fury. At one time the English made their way into the fort, but the Indians rallied andforced them back again. But over-confident in the natural strength of their fortress they had neglected to secure with palisades a strip which they had thought sufficiently guarded by a sheet of water. The English discovered it, and crossing took the astonished natives in the rear. At the same time some one shouted, “Fire their wigwams.” The fatal flame caught eagerly the light boughs and branches of which the frail tenements were made, and in a few moments the fort was all ablaze. Imagination shrinks appalled from the scene that followed. Night was coming on. The snow storm had set in with fresh violence. A thousand Indian warriors lay dead or wounded within the fort. Five hundred wigwams were burning within the same narrow compass—consuming alike the bodies of the wounded and the dead. The women and children, like their protectors, perished in the flames. Eighty of the English, too, were killed—a hundred and fifty were wounded. Had the wigwams been spared there would have been food and shelter for the victors. But victors and vanquished were driven out into the bleak night, weary and spent with long marching and fasting—the Indian to crouch in an open cedar swamp not far from the fort—the English to return to the spot from whence they had set out in the morning for this dreadful victory—Smith’s plantation, near the present village of Wickford. Several of the wounded died by the way.

Even after this blow Philip succeeded in arousing the Maine and New Hampshire tribes to his support, and the war still raged for a while through the New England settlements. Rhode Island suffered severely. Warwick was burned, and the cattle driven off. Tradition says that when the enemy approached Providence, Roger Williams, now a very old man, went out to meet them. “Massachusetts,” he said, “can raise thousands of men at this moment, and if you kill them, the King of England will supply their places as fast as they fall.” “Let them come,” was the reply, “we are ready for them. But as for you, brother Williams, you are a good man; you have been kind to us many years; not a hair of your head shall be touched.” Fifty-four houses in the northern part of the town were burned, but the fearless old man was not harmed.

Many of the colonists took refuge on Aquidneck, where the inhabitants of Newport and Portsmouth received them with great kindness. To protect the island a little flotilla of four boats, manned each by five or six men, was kept sailing around it day and night. There was no rest for old or young. April opened a brighter prospect. Canonchet, chief of the Narragansetts was taken prisoner. A young Englishman attempted to examine him. “You much child; no understand matters of war. Let your brother or your chief come. Him I will answer,” was his haughty reply. He was offered his life if his tribe wouldsubmit, but refused it. The offer was renewed and he calmly said, “Let me hear no more about it.” He was sent to Stonington, where a council of war condemned him to death. “I like it well,” said he; “I shall die before my heart is soft, or I have said anything unworthy of myself.” That as many as possible of his own race should take part in his execution Pequots were employed to shoot him, Mohegans to cut off his head and quarter him, and the Niantics to burn his body. When all this had been done, his head was sent to the Commissioners at Hartford as “a taken of love and loyalty.”

Throughout the spring and early summer the war still raged with unabated violence. The Rhode Island Assembly was so hard pushed that it was compelled to repeal the law exempting Quakers from military service. A few days before the capture of Canonchet he had surprised a party of Plymouth men near Pawtuxet. A battle was fought in an open cedar swamp in Warwick. But at last fortune seemed to turn towards the English. Philip’s allies began to fall from him. His wife and children were taken prisoners. Captain Church with a chosen band was on his trail. Hunted from lair to lair he sought refuge at Mount Hope. A few followers still clung to his fortunes. His mind was harassed by unpropitious dreams, and in his weariness his pursuers came upon him unawares. As he rose to flee he was shot down by a renegade Indian. The victors drew his body out of the swamp, cut off his head, and dividing the trunk and limbs into four parts hung them upon four trees. The head was sent to Plymouth where it was hung upon a gibbet. One hand was sent to Boston where it was welcomed as a trophy, and the other was given to the renegade who shot him, by whom it was exhibited for money. His son was sold into West India servitude.

With the death of Philip the war ended, although there were occasional collisions and bloodshed. For two members of the New England confederacy it had been a war of desolation. Connecticut, the third, escaped unharmed. Rhode Island, which had never been a member of it and had never been consulted concerning the war, although some of its leading incidents occurred within her borders, suffered most. Her second town was burned, her plantations laid waste and the inhabitants of her main-land driven for shelter to the island.

With the vanquished it went hard. Many were killed in battle, some were shot in cold blood by the sentence of an English court-martial. Many were sold into slavery—with this distinction in favor of Rhode Island, that while the other colonies sold their prisoners into unqualified servitude, she established for hers a system of apprenticeship by which the prospect of ultimate freedom was opened to all.

INDIANS STILL TROUBLESOME.—CONDITION OF THE PEOPLE.—TROUBLES CONCERNING THE BOUNDARY LINES.

War was followed by pestilence, which moves so fatally in her train. Of this pestilence we only know that it ran its deadly course in two or three days, and left its traces in almost every family. Meanwhile the legislature was sedulously repairing the breaches of the war. Laws passed in order to meet an urgent want were repealed, and chief among them as most repugnant to the tolerant spirit of the Colony the law of military service. The farmers returned to their desolate fields—citizens to the ruins of their hamlets. “Give us peace,” they may have said, “and we will efface the traces of these ruins.”

But it was long before real peace returned. The Indians though subdued were still turbulent. Active measures were required to prevent them from passing on and off the Island at will, and building their wigwams and mat-sheds on the commons and even on private lands. Rumsellers were found ready to sell them rum, and at Providence parties were sent out to scour the woods and guard against surprises. As an encouragement to the men engaged in these duties their wounded were nursed at public expense.

There was more serious danger from another quarter. Connecticut had not renounced her designs against Rhode Island territory, nor was she slow in declaring her intentions. The first step was an order of the Council at Hartford forbidding every one, whether white man or Indian, to occupy any lands in Narragansett without its consent. The Assembly met this order by a counter prohibition. No jurisdiction was to be exercised there but that of Rhode Island.

This declaration of claims was promptly followed by action. Three planters who had returned to their plantations in Warwick were seized by the Connecticut authorities and sent to Hartford. They appealed to their own Governor, Governor Clarke for protection. One of the most important measures of the Rhode Island government was the reëstablishment of King’s Province. Full power of protection was conferred upon a court of justices to be held in Narragansett. No one was allowed to enter the Province without permission from the Assembly. Ten thousand acres of land were set apart for new settlers at the rate of a hundred acres to each man—the new settlers to be approved by the Assembly. Rhode Island threatened to appeal to the King. Connecticut declared that she was ready to meet the appeal. Attempts at compromise were made by both parties. Connecticut proposed to fix the line at Coweset, the modern East Greenwich. Rhode Island offered to allow Connecticut to dispose of half the unpurchased lands in the Province if the settlers would accept the jurisdiction of Rhode Island. The loss of King’s Province would have imperilled the future independence of Rhode Island, and therewith the great principle on which it was founded. Connecticut could not renounce her last hope of securing a part of Narragansett Bay. Neither offer was accepted, and it soon became evident that no decision could be reached except by appeal to the King. Peleg Sandford and Richard Bailey were chosen agents, and two hundred and fifty pounds voted for their expenses. The money was to be raised by the sale of ten thousand acres of lands in Narragansett at the rate of a shilling an acre.

Meanwhile the Assembly was very active. A party change took place at the election of 1677—Governor Arnold was chosen in place of Governor Clarke. This was equivalent to a triumph of the war party. The militia law was again revised, care still being taken to protect the rights of conscience. How jealously these were guarded appears also in the unwillingness to multiply oaths of office. Five years before an act had been passed requiring deputies to take an engagement on entering upon the duties of their office. This law met with great opposition at its original passage, and its repeal was hailed with general satisfaction. Every freeman, it was said, made an engagement of allegiance on receiving the rights of citizenship. An oath is too solemn athing to be lightly taken—why should we use it? So reasoned those conscientious men. By another act, also, they showed how fast they held to this fundamental principle.

Another sect, the Sabbatarians or Seventh-Day Baptists, had taken root and begun to flourish in the free air of Rhode Island. In 1667 they were sufficiently numerous to justify them in asking that market day might be changed from Saturday, their Sabbath, to some other day. Without breaking in upon an old custom by changing the day, the Assembly added Thursday as another market day and thus quieted the scruples of honest and useful citizens.

We have seen how promptly and firmly the Assembly met the encroachments of Connecticut. Their remonstrances were followed up by spirited and judicious action. The surest way to strengthen their hold upon the disputed territory was by peopling it. Among the coves and inlets which give such quiet beauty to Narragansett Bay there is none more beautiful than that broad sheet of navigable water which still retains in part its original name of Coweset. Here it was resolved to plant a colony and build a town. Five hundred acres were set apart in lots on the bay for house lots—four thousand five hundred in farms of ninety acres, which were distributed among fifty men on condition of building within a year and opening roads from the bay into the country. To guard against rash speculation no colonist was to sell his land within twenty-oneyears unless with the consent of the Assembly. Thus on the verdant hill-side at whose foot a ripple from the Atlantic mingles with the inland murmur of Mascachugh was built the pleasant hamlet of East Greenwich.

Another bitter controversy arose concerning the limits and extent of the original Providence and Pawtuxet purchase—a question of great local interest, and which lost none of its heat from having for opposite leaders Roger Williams and William Harris. Several difficult questions were mixed up with it, greatly disturbing the harmony of the northern section of the Colony. Williams had shown himself to be an inaccurate conveyancer in the drafting of the original deed. This was purely a question of title. A still more difficult one arose when Warwick was colonized. Agents were sent to England to ask for the appointment of commissioners to decide the controversies which the local tribunals were unable to decide effectually. John Greene and Randall Holden were the agents for Warwick; William Harris for Pawtuxet. This William Harris, as we have already seen, was a bold thinker and an energetic actor. He made several voyages to England in defence of his party, and followed up with great energy every advantage that he gained before the tribunals at home. On his last voyage he fell into the hands of Barbary corsairs, and though ransomed after a year of captivity died soon after his redemption. The controversy did not cease with his death. Other voyages weremade to England and other decisions obtained. But it was not till many years later that the unwise contest was settled. Then, in 1696, the line between Providence and Warwick was settled by the Assembly, with the Pawtuxet River for boundary. That between Providence and Pawtuxet was continued till 1712 and then settled by compromise.

DEATH OF SEVERAL OF THE MOST PROMINENT MEN.—CHANGES IN LEGISLATION.

The woes of Rhode Island begin anew. Scarcely had the war ceased when Connecticut as we have already seen renewed her claim to Narragansett. Massachusetts soon followed in the name of the Atherton company. And presently Plymouth joined herself to the roll of Rhode Island’s enemies by advancing a claim to Aquidneck itself. Connecticut sought to strengthen her pretensions by asserting that the disputed territory was now hers by right of conquest. Thus far the sturdy little colony had held its ground and grown and prospered in the midst of enemies. Would she continue to hold it? Humanity itself was concerned in the answer, for of all the powers and kingdoms of the earth she alone was founded upon the principle of perfect toleration. The contest was a long and a weary one, too long for the purpose of this volume, for it is a history of seventy years of discussion and aggression, of bitter attack and firm resistance, terminating at last in the triumph of the weak and single-handed. Rhode Island not only preserved her original territory but added to it from that of two of herenemies. I shall select a few incidents to illustrate the progress of the contest.

It was to be waged for the most part by a new generation. The great men of the foundation were passing away. John Clarke, who had thrown the mild lustre of his purity over the first half of the life of the Colony, died in 1676, leaving a deep longing, or rather a sore need of his civil virtues and diplomatic skill. Samuel Gorton, whose tenacious convictions made him stern and intolerant in public life though gentle and attractive in private intercourse, and whose vigorous and subtle intellect led him to rejoice in the bitterness of controversy as the swift horse rejoices in the dust of the race-course, died the year after. Roger Williams was spared a few years longer—bold, ardent, disputatious, resolute, sincere and earnest to the last. But the young of his middle age were growing old, and the companions of his active years were falling around him. His colony had thriven and flourished. The five men who followed him from Salem had become “a thousand or twelve hundred men able to bear arms.” In spite of the threatening of the political horizon his strong faith told him that the being in whom he had put his trust thus far would stand by him still. And thus he laid his head upon his last pillow, a satisfied and happy man.

Another man of bold, original type—William Harris—had run his active career, and died withhis hands and heart still full of unfinished work. We have seen to what length he carried his doctrine of individual right to free action. We have seen him wage a bitter controversy with Roger Williams. Time after time he crossed the Atlantic as agent of the great boundary questions which fill so large a space in the Rhode Island history of this period; the last time, and from which he was never to return, as agent for Connecticut. A deep presentiment of disaster seems to have filled his mind as he was preparing himself for this voyage, and not satisfied with making his will he presented it for probate with his own hands. The presentiment was well founded. On the outward passage he was taken by a Barbary corsair and sold into slavery. By the exertion of friends he was ransomed after a year’s captivity and made his way through Spain and France to England. But the year of slavery had told hard upon him, and three days after his arrival he died. It has been remarked by a profound thinker that while Williams’s more comprehensive mind could embrace both the practical and ideal in their mutual relations, the moment that Harris touched the ideal he became a radical. It does not seem to have struck his cotemporaries as it does us to see him accepting the agency of Connecticut in her controversy with Rhode Island. But he has a definite place in Rhode Island history and did her good service through his long and somewhat turbulent career.

William Coddington, who had been an eminent man in Massachusetts before he became a very eminent man in Rhode Island, lived to take an active part in the controversy, and died in 1678, while holding for the time the office of Governor. His temporary usurpation had been forgiven and forgotten, and men remembered only that he had sincerely renounced his hostile designs and become a loyal and useful citizen.

Such were some of the men who bore the largest part in moulding the original character of Rhode Island. Talent and character like theirs was required to guide the little Colony through the dangers that surrounded it. But before we return to the external history of these days we will gather from the acts of the Assembly a few records of the moral and intellectual life of the Colony and its progress to a higher civilization.

The publicity of the laws is a question of deep interest in every stage of society, but particularly interesting in small communities. In the early days of Rhode Island they were published by beat of drum under the seal of the Colony. The violation of a law found no excuse in the plea of ignorance.

The sessions of the Assembly were held in a tavern or sometimes in a private house, always beginning, as the Roman assemblies did, at a very early hour. We have already seen that early attempts were made to allure the members to their duty by payment. It was still some timebefore this became a fixed law. In 1679 a resolution was passed for paying the board and lodging of the members of the Assembly and of the Court of Trials. In the May session of 1680 a definite sum was fixed upon—seven shillings a week. The true nature of the reciprocal obligation of the citizen and the State was not yet fully understood.

The frequent appeals to England which the aggressions of the other New England colonies made necessary, made it also necessary to keep resident agents at the English court. Thus the increased expenditure of the Colony kept pace with the increase of her resources.

In 1678 a tax was laid which enables us to form a tolerably accurate idea of the financial condition of the Colony. Its full amount was three hundred pounds. “Of this sum Newport was assessed one hundred and thirty-six pounds, Portsmouth sixty-eight, New Shoreham and Jamestown twenty-nine each, Providence ten, Warwick eight, Kingston sixteen, afterwards reduced to eight, East Greenwich and Westerly two each.” As the greater part of this tax was commutable, we are enabled to form a pretty accurate idea of the price of living just after the war. “Fresh pork was valued at twopence a pound, salted and well packed pork at fifty shillings a barrel, fresh beef at twelve shillings a hundred weight, packed beef in barrels thirty shillings a hundred, peas and barley malt two and sixpence a bushel,corn and barley, two shillings, washed wool sixpence a pound, and good firkin butter fivepence. The quarter part of this tax was paid in wool at the rate of fivepence a pound.” If we compare these prices with those of 1670, we shall see that war had proved here as everywhere a great scourge.

In the law by which this tax was levied we find a practical illustration of the principle which less than a century later became the fundamental principle of colonial resistance to the mother country. None but a complete representation of all the towns could levy a tax, or as it was formulated by James Otis—taxation without representation is tyranny.

It is also worthy of observation that there was a tendency to extend the usage of election to direct choice by vote of the freemen. The office of major which at its first institution during Philip’s war was filled by vote of the militia, passed, in 1678, to the whole body of freemen. The necessity of a distinction between martial and civil law seems, also, to have made itself more sensibly felt at the same period, and a permanent court-martial was formed for the trial of delinquent soldiers. As the commercial spirit of the Colony increased the necessity of a bankrupt law was felt, but on trial it was found to be premature and repealed. An attempt was also made to avoid the conflict of land titles in Narragansett, where the interest of townships as wellas of private individuals was involved. To correct this evil which struck at the root of social organization the Assembly ordered that the disputed tracts should be surveyed and plats made of them. For the more efficacious protection of this fundamental interest it was ordered that all who held by Indian titles “should present their deeds to be passed on by the Assembly.” Descending to minuter particulars, we find a law against fast riding—first, in “the compact parts of Newport,” and not long after, of Providence, also. We find it also ordered that a bell be provided and set up in some convenient place for calling the Assembly and courts and council together. Of deeper interest was the act appointing a committee to make a digest of the laws, “that they may be putt in print.” Only part, however, of this resolution was carried out, and it was not till 1719 that the laws were put into a permanent form.

Not the laws only but the language in which they were expressed attracted attention. We now meet for the first time in the enacting clause of a law, “and by the authority thereof be it ordained, enacted and declared.” Instead of executor administrator was written, “it being in that case the more proper and usual term in the law.” In one act we find an instance of grim humor. The accounts of a general sergeant were found to be in inextricable confusion. The auditing committee resolved to call them square “andvoted that by this act there is a full and fynal issue of all differences relative to said accounts from the beginninge of the world unto this present Assembly.”

In some instances the public mind was not made up concerning a law, and one Assembly would undo the work of its predecessor. One of the most important acts of this class was an act denying the revisory power of the Assembly over decisions of courts of trials. In the August session of 1680, after two years of experiment, the act was repealed.

The existence of a law proves, also, the existence of an evil. In the May session of 1679, we find an act for the protection of servants, whom “sundry persons being evil-minded” were in the habit of overtasking at home, and then hiring others to let out for work on Sunday—thus infringing the law which practically made Sunday a holiday. This is not a pleasant picture, but the action of the Assembly forbidding the abuse shows that public opinion was sound. We find, also, that then as now sailors were more or less at the mercy of sailor landlords. The Assembly took up their defence. Those who trusted a sailor for more than five shillings without an order from his captain forfeited their claim. Another law bearing directly upon navigation was passed in the May session of 1679. “The master of every vessel of over twenty tons burthen was required to report himself to the headofficer of the town upon arrival and departure, and if over ten days in port, then to set up notice in two public places in the town three days before sailing.” In this last act we see the influence of the navigation act which was so long held to be the guardian genius of England’s commercial prosperity, and which was communicated to all the colonies by royal edict in 1680.

And here, as illustrative of border life when Rhode Island was a border colony, comes the story of John Clawson’s curse. This John Clawson was a hired servant of Roger Williams, who, at the instigation of a desperate fellow by the name of Herendeen, was attacked in the night from behind a thicket of barberry bushes, near the old north burial ground by an Indian named Waumaion. The Indian, who was armed with a broad axe, split open Clawson’s chin at the first blow. The wound was mortal, but the wounded man lived long enough to utter his curse—that “Herendeen and his posterity might be marked with split chins and haunted with barberry bushes” forever. The malediction, legend says, was fulfilled, and the descendants of the murderer were still distinguished in the last century by a furrowed chin, and fired up with indignation at the mention of a barberry bush.

COURTS AND ARMY STRENGTHENED.—COMMISSIONERS SENT FROM ENGLAND.—CHARTER REVOKED.

Disputes of title fill, as we have seen, a full but monotonous chapter in this part of our history. Among them was the dispute for Potowomut, a neck of land on Coweset Bay which had been purchased of the Indians by order of the Assembly as early as 1659. Bitter disputes soon followed, Warwick claiming it, and individuals both English and Indians disputing the claim. At last the question was disposed of, as was supposed, finally, at a town meeting in 1680, in which it was divided “into fifty equal lots or rights, and the names of the proprietors were inserted on the records.” But the very next year we meet it again as a contest between Warwick and Kingston. At last the Assembly interposed, forbidding all occupancy of the land till further orders, warning off intruders, but permitting the Warwick men to mow and improve the meadows as heretofore.

Among the questions brought before the Assembly in the time of these disputes, was the question of the power of the Town Council to reject or accept new citizens. The question wasbrought up by Providence and decided in the affirmative. The form of application for leave to reside has been preserved: “To yeTowne mett this 15th of December 1680. My request to yeTowne is; that they woold grant the liberty to reside in yeTowne during the Townes Approbation, behaving myselfe as a civill man ought to doe, Desireing not to putt yeTowne to any charge by my residing here; and for what yeTowne shall cause farther to enquire of me, I shall see I hope to give them a true and sober Answer thereunto. Yorfriend and servant Tho. Waters.”

One of the lessons of the war had been the importance of cavalry, and in 1682 a company was raised in the main-land towns consisting of thirty-six men, exclusive of officers. To put them on the same footing with the infantry they were allowed the same privileges, and held to the same obligation of exercising six days in the year. Not long after the number of majors was doubled, and John Greene appointed for the main-land and John Coggeshall for the island. Measures were also taken to give greater efficiency to the courts, and it was decided that the October sessions should be held in Providence and Warwick annually. That there might be no delay in the execution of sentences, each of these towns was required to furnish a cage and stocks. Thus surely but gradually the resolute Colony went on in its work of organization. But perilous days were at hand.

The appeals of the colonies to England had attracted her attention to these distant domains, which but for that might long have continued to grow and prosper in obscurity. But when called upon to grant privileges she naturally began to examine into the nature of her rights, and interpreted them not by the genius of the colonies, but by the commercial interests of the mother country. The act of navigation, which had its origin in English jealousy of Holland, bore hard from the beginning on the commercial industry of the colonies. Although first passed by the republican Parliament of 1651, it did not become an efficient act until the first Parliament of Charles II. in 1660, when it was formally proclaimed in all the colonies by beat of drum. Custom-houses with all their parapheranalia followed close in its track. The burthen was soon felt, and smuggling, the natural relief of overtaxed commerce, became general. The bays and inlets of New England afforded great facilities for illicit trade, and the public conscience could not long resist the temptation. We shall see before another century is over to what England’s narrow policy led.

Questions relating to the colonies were generally referred to the Board of Trade. In 1680 came a letter from the board containing twenty-seven queries concerning Rhode Island. The agents in England also went prepared to give all the information that was required for the understanding of the claims and condition of the Colony. As long as Charles, the grantor of the charter lived, there was nothing done to excite alarm. But no sooner did his bigoted brother ascend the throne, than it became evident that an entire change was to be made in colonial policy. Rhode Island was quick to feel the blow. A commission of nine was appointed to settle the vexed question of King’s Province. Head of the commission was the notorious Cranfield, who had made himself a bad name by his tyrannical government of New Hampshire. Next came Randolph, detested in Massachusetts for his oppressive administration of the acts of trade. These names excited gloomy anticipations which were presently fulfilled.

And here let us pause a moment to observe the exact situation of Rhode Island at this critical emergency. Having had her origin in a practical appeal from the intolerance of Massachusetts, she had never been admitted to the confederation which gave unity and strength to the other New England colonies. Her doctrine of soul-liberty was a stench in their nostrils, and her possession of the broad and beautiful Narragansett Bay so favorable for maritime and internal commerce, was, as we have seen, a constant subject of bickering and envy. Massachusetts laid claim to Pawtuxet and Warwick, and a Massachusetts company to part of Narragansett; Connecticut to a large portion of the remainder of Narragansett,Plymouth to Aquidneck and other islands of the Bay. Little was left to Rhode Island but the plantations on the Mooshausick. All of these claims were enforced by all the means and arts within the command of the stronger colonies except actual war, and resisted with admirable resolution and perseverance by the weaker colony. We have seen how agents were sent to plead her cause at the court of their common sovereign, how every attempt to establish jurisdiction had been promptly resisted and every intrusion instantly repelled. In the darkest hour she never lost heart nor bated one jot her rights. But the darkest hour of all was at hand.

Cranfield and Randolph set themselves zealously to their congenial task. The Assembly met for theirs. The Commissioners refused to establish their position by showing their credentials. The Assembly refused to recognize them officially without credentials. The rupture was open and violent. The Assembly appointed new agents to repair to court and lay the evidence in behalf of the Colony before the King. A tax of four hundred pounds was imposed to meet their expenses. Much importance was attached to an address to the King drawn up by Randall Holden and John Greene. Meanwhile the Commissioners on their part were not idle. Cranfield wrote to the Board of Trade that the colonies were disloyal. “It never will be otherwise,” he added, “till their charters are broke and the college atCambridge utterly extirpated, for from thence these half-witted philosophers turn either Atheists or seditious preachers.” He was right, for it was at Cambridge that Otis and Quincy and Warren and the two Adamses imbibed the principles which led to independence.

It was in 1684, in the midst of these struggles, that a petition of the Jews for protection was presented to the Assembly and granted—Rhode Island remaining true to the last to the principle of her origin.

The decision of the Royal Commissioners was unfavorable to Rhode Island, and it is hard to see how she could have escaped mutilation. But she was menaced by a still greater danger. In 1684 Charles the Second died, and his brother James ascended the throne, bringing with him a narrow mind and a bad heart. To establish an arbitrary government and restore the supremacy of the Romish Church were the cardinal points of his policy. The American colonies afforded a favorable field for the trial. It began by the revocation of their charters, and was speedily followed up by putting the government of the New England colonies under one head.

Rhode Island found herself where she stood at the beginning, a government of towns. Her original four towns had united under one government for self-defence, and now that they were arbitrarily separated by a power too great to be resisted they naturally fell back upon their original municipal institutions. This closing scene is not without its dignity. The Assembly met at its accustomed time. The Governor, Walter Clarke, solemnly called upon the freemen for counsel. The whole question of dangers and difficulties was discussed, and wisely preferring petition to resistance, it was resolved to address a solemn appeal to the King for the preservation of their charter. Then all returned to its original order. The freemen met and discussed their town interests in their town meetings. Town officers elected by their townsmen performed their accustomed duties. The tradesman and the farmer went on in his chosen calling and the towns throve and prospered, still looking with unwavering trust to a day of redemption.

CHANGES IN FORM OF GOVERNMENT.—SIR EDMOND ANDROS APPOINTED GOVERNOR.—HE OPPRESSES THE COLONISTS AND IS FINALLY DEPOSED.

Thus a provisional government took the place of the charter government under which New England had grown so rapidly. A great and successful experiment in political science was suddenly checked, and hopes which had led so many devout and earnest men to renounce the conveniences of home for the perils and discomforts of a wilderness were rudely crushed at the very moment when they seemed nearest their fulfillment. The same blow which fell upon Rhode Island fell with equal fatality upon Massachusetts and Connecticut. The government by charter ceased. The two most active agents of James in this remoulding of the government of the colonies were Dudley, President of the Council, and Randolph, the Secretary, whose despotic conduct in Boston has already been mentioned. Here was a broader and more congenial field.

It was resolved as has been seen to address the King in behalf of the Colony, and John Greene, venerable by years and illustrious by public services, was appointed to carry the address toEngland and advocate it as agent for the Colony. He had watched over the cradle of the Colony—who so fit to stand by its grave.

Unfortunately, party had lost none of its virulence even in this supreme hour, and a small minority of dissentients was found to the sober and judicious conduct of the Assembly. Among them were members of the Atherton company, and among their methods of attack were bitter aspersions upon the personal character of the colonial agent. The provisional government found enough to do in preparing the colonies for their new life, and one of their earliest measures was a final organization of King’s Province. Among the changes that they made was the changing of the names of its three towns. Kingston, the largest, was called Rochester, Westerly, the next in size, became Haversham, and East Greenwich, the smallest, took the name of Dedford. The western boundary of Haversham was Pawcatuck River. Dedford was extended on the north to Warwick, and enlarged by the peninsula of Potowomut. Part of the actual settlers were living on land to which they had no legal claim. Preëmption rights were granted them and time given them to “arrange with the owners by rent or purchase.”

At last, on the 20th of December, 1686, the Royal Governor, Sir Edmond Andros, arrived in Boston. He came in a ship of the royal navy and brought with him two companies of the royal army, the first regular troops that had ever beenseen in Massachusetts. He had already been in the colonies and knew the spirits with whom he would have to deal. Rhode Island, like her sisters, had everything to fear from his arbitrary will. But she had treated him with respectful consideration on his former visit, and was now treated by him with less than his usual harshness.

He entered at once upon his welcome task, the transformation of a constitutional government into a despotism. Massachusetts came first in order, and the very first blow was a deadly one, an outrage upon her convictions and a deep humiliation to her pride. Her Puritan theocracy, which had penetrated every part of her civil polity, was overthrown, and the service of the church of England was openly celebrated. In this Rhode Island had no change to fear, for freedom of conscience was, till other ends were accomplished, the doctrine of the King himself. In all other things all the colonies fared alike.

We have seen how watchful Rhode Island was of the taxing power, and how nearly she had reached the great fundamental principle that taxation and representation go together. Andros sent out his tax-gatherers without consulting the tax-payers. His object was to raise money, no matter how. Farming the revenue, always a favorite device of despotism, offered facilities which he promptly turned to account. The augmentation of fees was an abundant source. Those of probate were increased twenty-fold. Writs ofintrusion opened another channel for organized robbery. No one could tell how soon he might be compelled to buy his farm over again. Even marriage afforded a field for the display of arbitrary power. Necessity at first compelled the government to recognize the validity of civil marriages. But as the transformation of laws and usages progressed, no marriages were recognized as valid which were not celebrated according to the rights of the Church of England. To feel the odious tyranny of this law it should be remembered that there was but one Episcopal clergyman in the Colony. Another oppressive act was the introduction of passports, whether for the fees they brought in or in order to throw obstacles in the way of a free communication among the colonies, it would be difficult to tell.

Andros’s commission gave him the power to appoint and remove his counselors at will. The council consisted of nineteen members, five of whom were from Rhode Island. One of them, John Greene, was absent on his agency in England. Their first meeting was held at Boston. In this the usual oaths of allegiance and office were taken, the two Quaker members from Rhode Island being allowed to make their affirmation. All officers in commission were continued in office during the Governor’s pleasure, and all laws that did not clash with the laws of England, were retained. The first was the only full meeting of this impotent board, which only met to confirm the resolves of an arbitrary Governor.

In substance Andros had his own way, though not without occasional opposition and now and then humiliation. In Rhode Island the charter was adroitly put out of his reach by Governor Clarke and not reproduced till he had left Newport. In Connecticut it was hidden in the hollow of an oak. The seal of Rhode Island was broken. The members of the council were constantly changing, and few of them, according to Randolph, cared for the King. “His Excellency has to do with a perverse people.”

We meet some of the questions of our own day. Licenses for the sale of liquor were granted in Newport, but no liquor could be sold in King’s Province. How well the prohibition was obeyed it is impossible to say. Poor laws also appear in the guise of taxes for the support of that perplexing part of the population. It would be tedious and useless to follow the despotic Governor through all the changes of his administration of two years and four months. Suffice it to say that he had fully imbibed the spirit of his master, and did all that he could to reduce the colonies to servitude. A few provisions, however, may be mentioned as illustrating the condition of the country. With the growth of the towns fires became sources of danger. To enforce watchfulness the person in whose house a fire broke out was fined two and sixpence, and for still greater security every householder was required to set “a ladder reaching to the ridge pole, to everyhouse that he owned.” Attention was called to the fishing in Pettaquamscot pond and an order passed for encouraging it. A tax was laid for the extermination of wolves, which seem still to have been very numerous.

In April, 1688, Andros’s commission was enlarged so as to comprise New York and the Jerseys, all under the general appellation of New England. Enlarged powers and minute instructions accompanied the new commission, and among the former was the subjection of the press to the will of the Governor.

But another change was drawing nigh. There was nothing in common between James the Second and the New England colonist, and Andros represented his master too faithfully not to be bitterly hated. Even Thanksgiving, that thoroughly New England festival, was neglected when announced by his proclamation. Some spoke out their detestation openly to his face. “I suppose,” he said one morning to Dr. Hooker, the great clerical wit of Hartford, “all the good people of Connecticut are fasting and praying on my account.” “Yes,” replied the Doctor, “we read, ‘This kind goeth not out but by fasting and prayer.’”

Rhode Island suffered less at his hands than any other colony. The enforced toleration which excited such strong feelings in Massachusetts met with no opposition in a territory where Baptists and Quakers and Puritans and Separatistsworshipped according to their own convictions. John Greene soon became aware that there was no prospect of a return to the free life of the charter so long as James held the throne. Therefore, without renouncing the hope of a better future, he confined his negotiations for the present to questions of minor, though important bearing. Chief among them was the putting an end to the intrusions of the outside claimants to Narragansett. This brought up all the unsettled claims which had been so pertinaciously enforced and so firmly resisted. The Atherton claim was thrown out by the Commissioners as extorted from the Indians by fear. The Connecticut claim was repudiated upon grounds set forth in the Rhode Island charter. Several individual titles, both Indian and English, were considered, and after careful examination, the right of Rhode Island to King’s Province was confirmed for the third time—“against Connecticut in point of jurisdiction, and against the so-called proprietors in point of ownership.” This report was met in England by a petition of Lord Culpepper in behalf of the Atherton company for grants of land not already occupied and the bass ponds, upon such quit rents as might seem good to the King. The petition was granted in part and Andros was intrusted to “assign them such lands as had not already been occupied—at a quit rent of two and sixpence for every hundred acres.”

Thus far Rhode Island has come off with honorin her contests with her neighbors. There was one, however, in which she won no honor. A party of unfortunate Huguenots had established themselves in King’s Province, forming a little settlement of their own and paying honestly for their lands. But the French name was not loved in the colonies and their Protestant neighbors persecuted them away. Traces of them may still be found in the neighborhood where they settled, which bears to this day the name of Frenchtown.

Meanwhile great changes were taking place in England, where James was rapidly running his career of bigotry and oppression. Slow as the communications between the mother country and her colonies were there was still communication enough to enable the latter to form some conception of the state of public feeling in the former. The new government had never acquired any stability in New England. The Council was constantly changing, and after the first meeting never all met together again. The public mind was ripe for revolution, and when the first tidings of the fall of James reached New England she was prepared to accept them with all their consequences. Unfortunately for Andros he was in Boston at this critical moment, and Boston was ready to act with her wonted vigor. The Governor was summoned to surrender his authority, and refusing, was thrown into prison. Massachusetts made haste to reörganize her government, but her charter was gone.

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