Roger Williams

Roger Williams now faced an unknown, untried future. He had left family and home comforts behind and there was every prospect of suffering, hardship, possible hunger ahead. He must either wander afoot through the snow-covered, trackless forests or undertake an uncertain voyage by sea. The latter course was altogether too risky. By skirting the coast, he was liable to run into the very men who were seeking him.

Whither should he turn? Who would befriend him? There was not much choice in the matter. He must find shelter with friendly Indians. There were four persons who either shared his adventures from the start or else joined him soon after he left Salem—William Harris, John Smith, a miller of Dorchester who was, like Roger Williams, banished from the colony, and two youths, Francis Wickes and Thomas Angell.

The record of those winter months is very brief, for Roger Williams had no idea he was making history. But suppose we let him tell the story in his own words:

“When I was unkindly and un-Christianly, as I believe, driven from my house and land and wife and children, (in the midst of a New England winter, now about thirty-five years past,) at Salem, that ever-honored Governor, Mr. Winthrop, privately wrote to me to steer my course to Narragansett Bay and Indians, for many high and heavenly and public ends encouraging me, from the freeness of the place from any English claims or patents. I took his prudent motion as a hint and voice from God, and waiving all other thoughts and motions, I steered my course from Salem (though in winter snow, which I feel yet) unto these parts, wherein I may say Peniel, that is, I have seen the face of God.”

The first place which the wanderer decided upon as a good location for a new home was a spot on the east bank of the Seekonk River. The land, while included in Plymouth territory, was obtained from Massasoit, the Wampanoag sachem, whom Roger Williams considered the true owner. It seemed a favorable stopping-place. Here, during the mild spring days, Roger Williams alternately tended his garden and worked upon his rude dwelling, all the time dreaming of the day when his good wife and babies in Salem should join him.

Alas! his plans for a permanent home here were never to be realized. No sooner were things well started when he received a friendly hint from Governor Winslow that if he wished to avoid further trouble, it would be well for him to choose another home site.

“I first pitched and began to build at Seekonk, now Rehoboth, but I received a letter from my ancient friend, Mr. Winslow, then Governor of Plymouth, professing his own and others’ love and respect to me, yet lovingly advising me, since I was fallen into the edge of their bounds, and they were loath to displease the Bay, to remove but to the other side of the water, and then, he said, I had the country free before me, and might be as free as themselves, and we should be loving neighbors together.”

Discouraging news, indeed! Was there never to be peace or rest for the banished one?

“And surely, between those, my friends of the Bay and Plymouth, I was sorely tossed for one fourteen weeks, in a bitter winter season, not knowing what bread or bed did mean, beside the yearly loss of no small matter in my trading with English and natives, being debarred from Boston, the chief mart and port of New England. God knows that many thousand pounds cannot repay the losses I have sustained.”

With his face again set toward some new, unknown home, Roger Williams began reconnoitering. By this time (probably June, 1636), he had been joined by a fifth refugee from Salem, Joshua Verin—perhaps several others. One day, embarking in a canoe, Roger Williams sailed down the Seekonk River and crossed to the opposite shore. The story is told that at a jagged point, later called Slate Rock, the Indians came down to the water’s edge and greeted him with the friendly cry, “What cheer, Netop?” or, in other words, “How do you do, friend?” Kindly words, even though they came from the lips of savages! Best of all, the voyager was not asked to “move on.” Was it not a good omen that in his search for a permanent home, he should be greeted first of all by the Indians with whom he had labored so faithfully and lovingly?

Whatcheer Field, in the vicinity of the rock, became the property of Roger Williams and was used by him for planting. The historic rock itself is now hidden underground back from the shore, but the spot has been marked by a monument dedicated “to the memory of Roger Williams, the Apostle of Soul Liberty.” The story of the meeting of the red men and their white friend has been further preserved in the form of the city seal of Providence.

This monument, erected in 1906, is dedicated “To the memory of Roger Williams, the Apostle of Soul Liberty.” It is at the foot of Williams St., Providence, in Roger Williams Square, given to the city by the heirs of Governor James Fenner. A bronze bas-relief shows the landing of Roger Williams and his friends.

The monument bears these words: “Below this spot, then at the water’s edge, stood the rock on which, according to tradition, Roger Williams, an exile for his devotion to freedom of conscience, landed 1636.”

Roger Williams did not, however, build at this point. The Indians probably directed him to better land at the west where there was running water. With his companions, he investigated the situation. Paddling to the south, they rounded a point of land, and then turned north until they reached a river bearing the Indian name Moshassuck. At a point near a pure, bubbling spring, the little company landed, realizing that at last they had found a good abiding-place. Moving day—or, more likely, a series of moving days—followed.

It actually seemed as if the wanderer’s darkest days were over and, in gratitude to God for his goodness, Roger Williams gave the quaint name of Providence to the settlement that was now begun. At first he had no intention of founding an English community. “My soul’s desire was to do the natives good” are his own words, adding that he had no inclination for other company. Out of the bigness of his heart, however, he let in a few distressed souls, then welcomed a few more, until finally Providence became “a corner as a shelter for the poor and persecuted.”

In regard to Roger Williams’ occupation of the new land, only after he had purchased it from the Indians did he take possession. He practiced exactly what he had preached about the simple justice of paying the natives for the land which they rightfully claimed. He was on Narragansett territory and therefore negotiated with the sachems of that tribe, Canonicus and his nephew, Miantonomo. Having mortgaged his house at Salem, he was able to make such a purchase.

Only the close friendship between Roger Williams and the Narragansett chiefs could have brought about this transfer of property thus easily. Though money and presents paid for it, still both parties looked upon it as a gift. “I was the procurer of the purchase,” said Roger Williams, “not by monies nor payment, the natives being so shy and jealous, that monies could not do it; but by that language, acquaintance and favor with the natives and other advantages which it pleased God to give me.... Canonicus was not to be stirred with money to sell his lands to let in foreigners. ’Tis true he received presents and gratuities many of me, but it was not thousand nor ten thousands of money could have bought of him an English entrance into the Bay.... And, therefore, I declare to posterity that were it not for the favor God gave me with Canonicus, none of these parts, no, not Rhode Island, had been purchased or obtained, for I never got anything out of Canonicus but by gift.”

This steadfast and beautiful friendship between Roger Williams and the Narragansett sachems endured during the lifetime of all, although Canonicus was “most shy of all English to his last breath.” Here were neighbors with whom there was no quarrel. They and the founder of Providence gave and took, lent and borrowed, in true neighborly fashion. Roger Williams allowed them the use of his boats, made them presents, loaned them his servant, gave them freely of his time and services whenever needed, even lodging as many as fifty natives at a time in his humble home. Was it any wonder that the “barbarous heart” of Canonicus loved him “as his son to his last gasp”?

The earliest agreements with the Narragansetts were probably by word of mouth, for the first written deed, dated two years later, refers to territory already bought on the Moshassuck and Woonasquatucket Rivers. It confirms this sale and continues: “As also in consideration of the many kindnesses and services he (Roger Williams) hath continually done for us, both with our friends Massachusetts, as also as Quinickicutt (Connecticut), and Apaum or Plymouth, we do freely give unto him all that land from those rivers, reaching to Pawtuxet River, as also the grass and meadows upon the said Pawtuxet River.” This old document bears the mark of Canonicus, a bow, that of Miantonomo, an arrow, and also the marks of two Indian witnesses. Thus Roger Williams could truthfully say that this land was “as truly his as any man’s coat upon his back.” Later, he generously divided the territory he had bought among his associates, who then numbered twelve, so that he and they each received an equal share.

In the summer of 1636, Mrs. Williams and her two small children succeeded in reaching Providence. Once more the future looked bright to the patient husband and father.

The government of Providence was of the simplest kind. A compact was drawn up and signed by the settlers, in which they agreed to uphold every measure that was for “the public good of the body,” but “only in civil things.” What did this mean? That at last a colony was founded in which church and state were wholly independent of each other. It was precisely the sort of agreement we should expect Roger Williams to provide for the new settlement. It proclaimed to the world, “Here is a real democracy—a government by the people. Here is religious liberty without interference from the state. Here is a society in which nobody need be a church member in order to vote.”

The privilege of worshiping as one pleased attracted many persons in the neighboring settlements and even across the water. As soon as they heard of Roger Williams’ daring venture, they were eager to cast their lot with him.

Now while the new settlement was thus broad and reasonable, the Massachusetts Bay Colony grew even narrower than before. Differences of opinion in church matters continued to arise, for never in the history of the world has it been possible for all men to think alike. Punishments for “heresy” were still the order of the day. Banishments were frequent. Some of the exiles thus disgraced were obliged to seek new homes as Roger Williams had done.

Among these were William Coddington and John Clarke, a learned physician, both of whom had much to do with the history of the new colony afterwards. With the help of Roger Williams, the new-comers purchased the island of Aquidneck in Narragansett Bay from Canonicus and Miantonomo. It was this island, later called Rhode Island, that gave its name to the state. The Indians then residing on the island agreed to vacate in return for ten coats and twenty hoes.

Another exile from the Bay Colony was Mrs. Anne Hutchinson, a woman of brilliant and wonderful mind, who had offended the magistrates for holding firmly to certain religious opinions and teaching the same. She joined the little Aquidneck settlement and as long as she remained there, enjoyed peace and freedom from persecution.

To return to the colony at Providence. It was an experiment in every sense of the word. For one thing, mere existence was to prove a struggle. Life was hard and crude. The early settlers were unfitted, in many ways, to meet the difficulties of building up a new community. Few were skilled laborers, all were poor. Men of professional training were unknown. No doctor’s sign was in evidence and for many years, whenever medical advice or medicine was needed, Roger Williams had to send outside the settlement for it.

Land was plentiful, it is true, but scarcely anything else. Yet one early precaution taken by Roger Williams did much to lessen the hardships of those first years. He and Governor Winthrop purchased the island of Prudence in the Bay as a grazing-place for goats and swine. Twenty fathom of wampum and two coats was the price paid. Roger Williams’ curious description pictures it as “spectacle-wise and between a mile or two in circuit.” This transaction plainly showed his tact as well as the high esteem in which he was held by Canonicus. It seems that the sachem wished to reserve half of the island, but was anxious to have Roger Williams for a neighbor. Two short extracts from Roger Williams’ correspondence with Winthrop tell the whole story of the proceedings that followed. In the first letter, he wrote, “I think if I go over, I shall obtain the whole”; the second letter records simply, “I have bought and paid for the island.”

The purchase indicated good judgment and foresight, for here the live stock could not stray far, it had good pasturage, and was conveniently near salt marshes, which were necessary to keep it in the best condition. As one writer has put it, Prudence Island was the stock-farm and market-garden of Providence, supplies being carried back and forth by canoes.

The early “home lots” of the Providence settlers, as they were called, extended from the main or Town Street eastward, up a steep hill, and over back in the direction of the Seekonk. They were generous in size, at least five acres in extent, large enough for house, garden, orchard and burial plot. Roger Williams’ house was not far from the spring where he landed. In modern Providence it is hard to find any trace of the early village that was started on the banks of the Moshassuck, yet now and then a voice out of the past takes one back over the centuries to the Providence of Roger Williams. The main thoroughfare still runs through the heart of the city and on an ancient building in the street is a tablet bearing the legend, brief but thrilling with history: “Under this house still flows the Roger Williams spring.”

Hospitality and neighborliness were common in early Providence days, for everybody was dependent upon everybody else. Roger Williams and his good wife kept open house for all. Now they took in a sick soldier and nursed him back to health and strength, once they sheltered an Indian with a hurt foot, and even went so far as to allow Miantonomo to hold his “barbarous court” under their roof!

The Indians, in fact, early found a way to the Williams door. They frequently came with messages from the other colonies or carried letters from Roger Williams to his neighboring friends. These were often accompanied by simple gifts, such as some chestnuts from Mrs. Williams for Mrs. Winthrop or a Narragansett-woven basket for the same lady from the Indian wife of Miantonomo. The carriers themselves were always rewarded, of course. Roger Williams must have kept on hand an extra supply of coats, trousers, tools and trinkets to satisfy their eager, childish desires.

Besides the struggle for a living, there were other matters which gave the founder of Providence great concern. We should like to record that his followers lived in peace and harmony, that there was never any discord, that they showed the Bay Colony they were well-behaved, ideal neighbors. This would not be true history, however. The colonists were only human. Besides, not all were able to understand the real meaning of the advanced principles for which their leader stood. They mistook liberty for license. Quarrels arose from time to time and disturbances were sometimes caused by troublesome persons who would be called “cranks” to-day. Still the colony was bound to outgrow these petty differences. No settlement in the New World had a better right to a successful future, for none was built upon a truer, surer foundation.