Letitia "Tish" Richardson

Pilgrims, Puritans, and Heretics: 1620-1700 tells a story of North American settlement through the lens of one extended family.  Using historical events as a canvas, Pilgrims explores the intimate stories of several individuals and the struggles and triumphs they faced in colonizing a land previously unknown to Europeans. The manuscript unfolds as a series of short stories about American settlers and the notable, notorious, and unsung events that altered their lives. 

 

Beginning with the arrival of the Mayflower and the eight family ancestors who sailed on her, the stories continue through the 17th century, ending with the Salem Witch Hysteria of 1692. Throughout, Pilgrims weaves personal stories of family ancestors into notable events such as the settling of Plymouth, Massachusetts Bay, Connecticut, Rhode Island, and New Haven Colonies.  The stories appear chronologically, describing historical events and moving from character to character, allowing each to shine in his or her moment.

 

Click on the title above to read a more thorough synopsis.

 

Table of Contents

 

PART ONE: Birth of a Colony

1.     The Mayflower

2.     The Voyage

3.     The First Winter

4.     Samoset Visits Plymouth

5.     Departure of the Mayflower

 

PART TWO: Plymouth Colony 1620-1630

6.     Building the Town of Plymouth

7.     Arrival of the Fortune

8.     Departure of the Fortune

9.     Relations with the Natives Deteriorate

10.   Wessagusett Colony – A Failed Experiment

11.   Arrival of the Anne and the Little James

12.   The Courtship of Mary Chilton

13.   The Buy-Out

14.   Wedding Plans

15.   Transition Years: 1628-1630

16.   Immigration to Plymouth Stalls

 

PART THREE: The Second Wave of Immigration 1630-1640

17.   The Meeting at Sempringham 1629

18.   Massachusetts Bay Colony: Salem & Charlestown 1629

19.   Massachusetts Bay Colony: Dorchester 1630

20.   Massachusetts Bay Colony: The Winthrop Fleet 1630

21.   Massachusetts Bay Colony: Boston 1630

 

PART FOUR: Puritan vs. Puritan: The Seeds of Rebellion 1631-1636

22.   Reverend Roger Williams

23.   Reverend Thomas Hooker

24.   Two Choices: Accept & Conform or Question & Change

25.   The Great Hurricane of 1635

 

PART FIVE: Settling the Connecticut Valley

26.   Reverend Warham Leads his Flock Westward

27.   Reverend Hooker Makes a Choice

 

PART SIX: Mixed Stories: One Ordinary Man, Two Banishments

28.   John Dwight of Dedham, Massachusetts Bay Colony

29.   Anne Hutchinson and the Antinomian Crisis

30.   Roger Williams is Banished

 

PART SEVEN: War

31.   The Pequot War

 

PART EIGHT: Puritan Ministry in New England – Opportunities and Challenges

32.   Harvard College

33.   Death Tests the Faith of Two Dedham Families

 

PART NINE: New Colonies and Settlements

34.   New Haven Colony 1638-1664

35.   The Dutch in North America: New Netherland Colony

36.   Island Settlements: Long Island, Martha's Vineyard, and Nantucket

 

PART TEN: Puritan Intolerance Spins Out of Control

37.   Mary Dyer, the Quaker Martyr

 

PART ELEVEN: Living Up to One's Religion

38.   Love Brewster's Problem

39.   The Sin of Suicide: A Scandal in the Dwight Household

40.   The Sin of Ambition: Thomas Willett, Mayor of New York

41.   The Sin of Fornication: Mary (Ball) Monroe, Abandoned Child, Abused Servant, and Unwed Mother

42.   Broken Dreams: The Herrick Mystery

 

PART TWELVE: War

43.   King Philip's War

 

PART THIRTEEN: Pennsylvania, Religious Haven

44.   Bevans and Richardsons in Pennsylvania 1687

 

PART FOURTEEN: The Century Closes

45.   Bad Behavior: The Shocking Decline of the Tuttles of New Haven

46.   Witch Hysteria in Massachusetts Bay Colony

 

 

PART ONE

Plymouth Colony 1620-1621

 

The first five stories in this book revisit year one of the first permanent English colony in New England.  We meet the Cookes, the Brewsters, the Chiltons, and the Warrens, four families that traveled on the Mayflower.  The first three families, non-conforming Calvinists (or Separatists) had fled to Leiden in the Dutch Republic to escape persecution in England.  In Leiden they encountered new difficulties.  As immigrants, they worked twice as hard as their Dutch counterparts to obtain and retain employment.  Learning Dutch was requisite to integration, yet not all had facility with foreign languages.  Raising children according to their standards became increasingly difficult as the young were constantly exposed to Dutch ways and morals of which the Separatists despaired.  Worse, the Dutch Republic, having revolted again Spanish rule, depended on England for political and military support, and in return, English monarchs demanded conformity with their official religion.  As the long arm of English law reached out to persecute the Leiden Separatists, they decided to abandon Europe entirely for an unknown continent.  

 

 

One

The Mayflower

 

"Papa, allons-nous vraiment partir cette fois?"[i]

 

Resting his hand on his son's head and gazing at the open water ahead, Francis replied, "I believe so.  But remember our agreement, John, English only until we arrive in the colonies."

 

"Ah oui, I'm sorry, Papa."

 

Forcing a smile, Francis said, "Don't look so troubled, lad, we truly leave for the colonies today. I'm sure of it."

 

Francis harbored some doubts, however.  After two false starts, the would-be colonists decided to leave one of their ships behind in England.   The Mayflower, 100 feet long, sturdy, and plain, would continue to the New World, leaving the leaky Speedwell behind.  The Speedwell passengers were divided, with some, like the Cookes and the Chiltons, taken aboard the Mayflower, joining the Brewsters and Richard Warren.  Others were left behind to find another ship.  The delays caused by the Speedwell's unseaworthiness and last-minute negotiations with the group's backers meant a late start to the voyage.  It was now mid-September, the absolute latest date the ship could sail west and make landfall before winter settled over the North Atlantic. 

 

Francis had other reservations, as well.  The Mayflower was terribly overcrowded.  Nor did she appear to be a comfortable place to spend many weeks.  Francis knew ocean travel to be uncomfortable at best.  Merchant ships such as the Mayflower were designed to transport goods, not people.  The ship had been slightly modified to accommodate passengers, but in the early 1600s, transatlantic passenger travel simply did not exist.  When the Mayflower was hired to transport a group of poor religious Separatists and other voyagers across the ocean, no one had the money, desire, experience, or foresight to retrofit the ship for comfortable travel.  For several months, depending on prevailing winds, 102 passengers - men, women, and children - would be crowded into the gun deck, a dark, damp, interior space roughly 58 feet by 24 feet into which thin partitions had been erected to provide the illusion of privacy.  Francis, James Chilton, and Richard Warren had to stoop when moving about the five-and-a-half-foot high space.  Elder Brewster, lacking in height, found the gun deck more comfortable.  On calm days they could venture out onto the upper deck provided they were mindful of the sailors carrying out their duties, but most of the passengers' time would be spent together below decks sharing space with the Mayflower's 12 defensive cannons and a disassembled small boat called a "shallop" that would be reassembled for use in the New World.[ii]

 

 At least the ship smelled good, thought Francis.  Known as a "sweet ship," the Mayflower had transported many casks of wine over the years whose spills and leaks had infused the structure with the scent of fermented grapes.

 

Then there were the passengers.  Some had never sailed; few had experienced the open sea.  Many did not look robust enough to clear, plant, and harvest fields, hunt, and fish, or build fences and homes in the New World.  They were city-dwellers: clothiers, shoemakers, tailors, and merchants.  Francis was a wool-comber, hardly a trade to prepare him for the life of a farmer.[iii]  James Chilton, 64, was one of the oldest.  His wife appeared frail, although their young daughter, Mary, seemed healthy enough.  William Brewster, a printer of religious pamphlets, and Richard Warren, a gentleman of London, would likely depend upon their servants to perform the hard labor of colonizing the new plantation.

 

The passengers also had different reasons for voyaging to North America.  The Brewsters, Chiltons, and Cookes were among the 37 Separatists who had completely broken with the Protestant Church of England and moved to Leiden, Holland in 1607.  They called themselves "Saints".  Finding the Dutch way of life not to their liking and fearing additional persecution from England, the Saints decided to move to the colonies.  Richard Warren was among the 65 passengers the Saints called "Strangers", who emigrated to North America for other reasons.  Most passengers were English, but some, like the Cookes, had other backgrounds.[iv]  A journey such as this, with physical and emotional hardships likely, could strain even the closest ties.  And so, Francis encouraged John to speak only English, to reinforce their commonalities with the English passengers rather than highlight their differences.

 

Lastly, Francis considered the relationship between the ship's crew and passengers.  Since passenger travel was not the norm, the sailors likely had little appreciation for the Mayflower passengers and their concerns.  Could they be counted upon in an emergency? The captain seemed a kind man, better educated than his sailors, but he too had made peace with the seafaring life.  He likely felt sympathy for his passengers and may even have had Separatist leanings, yet he would not worry overmuch about them if the seas became rough.  Paid to transport them to the New World, he concerned himself with speed and security rather than the passenger experience. His goal was to deliver them to Virginia Colony before supplies ran too low and seas became too unmanageable.

 

For Virginia was where the English government had authorized them to settle.

 

 

[i] Are we really leaving this time, Father?
[ii] A shallop was a small craft, typically open hulled, about 38 feet long, 11 feet wide, and four feet deep.  She bore a single mast and was sprit-rigged.  She was small enough, however, to be rowed by a group of men. Trading shallops were partly decked over to protect trade goods.
[iii] Wool-combers combed sheep wool to separate the fibers and prepare them to be woven into cloth.
[iv] The religious wars of the 16th century displaced many who abandoned their country of birth for a chance at religious freedom.  Leiden, Holland offered that freedom to refugees of religious persecution, and Protestants from many nations established churches there.  Francis and Hester (Mahieu) Cooke originally worshipped with the French Protestant congregation in Leiden.  Some years later, they transferred to the English Separatist congregation, and they developed strong bonds of shared faith and trust with the English group.  French-speaking Belgian Protestants were also known as Walloons, and Hester (Mahieu) Cooke came from a Walloon family.

 

Two

The Voyage

 

Francis was right about the journey – it did begin that day in September.  It was also worse than he had imagined.  The voyage lasted 66 days, and the Mayflower arrived off the coast of North America late in 1620, after experiencing recurrent storms, widespread seasickness, and even the loss of a crewman, swept out to sea by a capricious wave.  When a sharp-eyed sailor finally spotted land, the passengers learned they were far north of Virginia Colony near a peninsula known as Cape Cod.[i]  Correcting course, the embattled crew and exhausted passengers attempted to sail south along the coastline toward Virginia Colony, but dangerous shoals and storms threatened to destroy the ship.  Glimpsing verdant lands and tranquil harbors off their starboard, the crew argued against continuing, preferring to make landfall sooner rather than later.  Seeing the passengers weakening daily, the captain agreed and ordered the sailors to sail north, round Cape Cod, and enter the harbor there.  In mid-November, they left the raging North Atlantic behind and entered the protected waters of Cape Cod Bay. 

 

They spent the next month searching for an appropriate place to establish a settlement for the winter.  Finding Cape Cod itself uninviting, they looked across the bay to the mainland.  There they found a sheltered cove and surrounding terrain that met their requirements, including high ground on which to place defensive structures and flat plains and rich soil for growing crops.  Anchoring off the spot they would name Plimouth[ii], they had found their new home. 

 

Having landed outside the boundaries of Virginia Colony and without a royal charter to establish a new colony, the Mayflower colonists were legally adrift without any form of government to guide them.  Some Strangers suggested that once they disembarked, they would be legally free to do as they pleased with no obligations toward the larger community. 

Concerned about their uncertain legal status and wary of rumblings of discontent, the Saints concluded that bold steps were needed to bind the group together.  They needed an agreement before anyone set foot upon the shore, something to define the group's goals and objectives and how to reach them.   The agreement would also have to reconcile the Saints' and Strangers' differing agendas.

 

The agreement envisioned would take the form of a traditional English "compact".  The delicate task of drafting the compact likely fell, at least in part, to William Brewster, whose agile mind and fluid pen could be counted on to draft an appropriate agreement.  Educated at England's Cambridge University, William had political and diplomatic experience.  He had also founded a Separatist Church in England and now served as Elder of the Leiden Separatist Church.  He possessed sufficient tact and experience to draft a set of organizing principles by which the diverse group could live together and avoid being torn apart by factional interests and petty squabbles.  And so, the Mayflower Compact was created.  Modeled on documents used to organize Separatist Churches in the Old World, it reminded people of why they had come to the New World and what would be required to survive there, and it provided for self-governance by the settlers. 

 

Concluding they would fare better under governing rules, 42 free adult male passengers, including William Brewster, James Chilton, Francis Cooke, and Richard Warren, signed the Compact.  Acknowledging their mutual dependence, they vowed to work together to ensure their mutual survival until additional resources, in the form of goods, colonists, and a patent to form an independent colony, arrived the following year.  The document served to corral the disparate inclinations of the group ensuring that they would work together for the benefit of all.  It created a functional democracy whereby the individual colonists agreed to accept the rule of the majority.[iii]   This latter condition further served to persuade the Strangers that their voices would be heard in the new land and that they would not be treated as second-class citizens.  With tempers cooled and a plan agreed, the colonists prepared to face their first winter in New England.

 

[i] The failure to arrive in Virginia was not as foolish a navigational miscalculation as it sounds.  In 1620, the Virginia Colony's boundaries extended almost to the Hudson River in what is present-day New York.
[ii] Plymouth, Massachusetts.
[iii] The Mayflower Compact reads: "In the name of God, Amen. We whose names are underwritten, the loyal subjects of our dread Sovereign Lord King James, by the Grace of God of Great Britain, France, and Ireland King, Defender of the Faith, etc.  Having undertaken for the Glory of God and advancement of the Christian Faith and Honour of our King and Country, a Voyage to plant the First Colony in the Northern Parts of Virginia, do by these presents solemnly and mutually in the presence of God and one of another, Covenant and Combine ourselves together in a Civil Body Politic, for our better ordering and preservation and furtherance of the ends aforesaid; and by virtue hereof to enact, constitute and frame such just and equal Laws, Ordinances, Acts, Constitutions and Offices from time to time, as shall be thought most meet and convenient for the general good of the Colony, unto which we promise all due submission and obedience. In witness whereof we have hereunder subscribed our names at Cape Cod, the 11th of November, in the year of the reign of our Sovereign Lord King James, of England, France and Ireland the eighteenth, and of Scotland the fifty-fourth. Anno Domini 1620."

 

 Three

The First Winter

 

In March 1621, five months after arriving in New England, the Mayflower prepared to return to England, leaving the colonists to fend for themselves in their new home.  As the sailors prepared the ship for her return voyage, the colonists' thoughts strayed toward their homeland and the loved ones left behind.  Winter had been unkind, and many colonists died.  The survivors longed to reassure their dear ones.  The few passengers who could write entrusted Captain Jones with missives to their families describing their journey, their sufferings, joys, and learnings.  Francis Cooke and his son, John, could not send letters because they could not write.  One sunny April morning, Francis visited William Brewster.

 

"William," he began, "I am anxious to send word to Hester about our safe arrival and current situation.  At the same time, I am worried about John.  He and the other children have experienced so much death this year, more than their share.  At 14, he is almost a man, yet he still misses his mother and his sisters terribly.  I believe it will do him much good to send them a letter.  Might we impose upon your generosity to compose one?"

 

"Of course, Francis, 'tis no imposition at all! responded William, although he had performed this task for several others and knew he would be asked to do so many more times in the coming days.  "Bring young John hither, and I will gladly be your scribe."

 

Thanking William, Francis left to find John.  Spotting him near the beach, Francis smiled broadly and said, "John, I'm sure your mother and sisters would be most pleased to hear from us.  Why don't we send them a letter?"

 

"Now, how might we manage that, as we have neither paper, nor quill, nor knowledge of writing, Father?" asked John, bemused.

 

"Ah, I have an answer for that.  Elder Brewster has agreed to write the letter for us."

 

Climbing up to town they knocked at William's door and soon found themselves seated in his parlor.  Having never dictated a letter before, Francis began hesitantly. 

 

"My Dearest Wife," he began.

 

"Maman" interjected John.

 

 "Yes, of course."  Francis began again. "Dearest Wife and Mother, First and foremost, we are well.  It is spring here now and thanks be to God we have survived and prospered during the winter."

 

 John interrupted again, "Papa, that is not a fair truth.  We should not lie to Maman."

 

 "It is a white lie, John.  Mother will want to hear we are well, and there is no need to burden her with tales of our darkest hours.  She'll learn the truth soon enough from other mouths.  Now       let's start again and not bother Elder Brewster with fine points.  I'll finish, and then you may have your say."

 

 "We first saw Plymouth on a mild, sunny day in November.  The harbor was calm, a most welcome change after the many storms that bedeviled us during the crossing.  The smooth waters were       especially welcome to those who found the rocking and swaying of the ship not at all pleasing to the stomach!  Presently, we found our way to the site of our new home, and we called it                   Plymouth, in memory of our English Plymouth.  The town sits back from the shore, which bears a fine beach, wide and flat.  The coastline is sandy as far as the eye can see.  From the beach,           the land rises gently, and we have situated our fair town upon a goodly rise.  There is fine grazing and farmland all about.  'Now, Francis,' you may ask, 'where in Virginia Colony is this fine               place?'  I must respond, my Dear, that the storms of which I spoke blew us far north of our planned route, and the place we have settled is not in Virginia Colony.  But I forbid you to worry,           Hester, for today the Governor send a letter to King George to accompany the Mayflower when she returns to England.   The letter requests permission to establish and settle a new colony.  We       believe the Crown's interests and ours are aligned, and we have no doubt that the request will be granted.

 

 Now, I am sure you will want to hear more about the land hereabouts.  Well, Dearest, it would remind you of seaside towns near your family's home at Lille.  At beach's edge are many trees and       woods, while beyond them lay fields, which we found already cleared - for planting corn we imagine.  The woods are rich with hawthorn, pine, beech, ash, elm, holly, white oak, cedar, maple,         and birch trees.  There are cherry and plum trees and many herbs.  We found wild leeks and onions, flax, and hemp.  Brooks crisscross the land and carry sweet water and fish aplenty. Ponds           also abound, and they too are full with fish and fowl, and deer come to them to drink.  

 

 The woods have been a great boon providing fuel for our fires and timber for our homes.  Indeed, we have kept our sawyer busy and now have some fine homes, a meetinghouse, and                     storehouses.  Building has been slower than we desired, and John and I spend most nights on board the ship, as we have not yet built our own home, devoting our time instead to constructing         the common buildings.  Here, as at home, fire is a scourge, and we have lost homes to the flames, but our people were not deterred, and the men built anew those homes that were burned. 

 Soon, John and I must look to the construction of our own dwelling in preparation for the departure of the Mayflower; otherwise, we shall be sleeping in the open air!

 

 As to the native peoples I can say only a little.  We found many of their homes, but no one abides therein.  We have seen great campfires and heard voices at night but come morning all is               quiet.  One afternoon, while working in the woods, the town alarm pealed, and I made haste to return there.  Upon reaching the village I found no cause for alarm, but when I returned to my           work, I found my tools missing.  Thus, did I almost encounter the Natives, and I can almost hear you laugh and say it serves me right for leaving my things about.  All ended well, for a group of       Natives came to the village and returned the tools without a scratch on them.  I suspect they took them to determine how they were made and judge how they compared to native-made                 implements.  Alas, I was not in town at the time.

 

 One last thing must I mention, Hester.  You may hear that we suffered much loss of life due to sickness, and I cannot say it is a lie.  While we lost only one soul on the voyage, we have been             plagued by death since entering the harbor and have now lost half our original number.  We know not the source of the illness that spread among us, but its nature was most foul, with loss of           breath, coughing of blood, and agonizing pain in the joints.  Almost every family has been touched.  We pray for our lost brethren and their families daily and can but hope that spring will bring         renewed strength and health.  I send my honest assurances that John and I are well with nary a hint of sickness upon us.

 

 I miss you greatly, my Dear, you are ever in my thoughts and prayers.  I count the days and nights until you and our children join us in Plymouth Colony.

 

                                                                                                                                   Your loving husband, Francis.

 

Feeling quite pleased with the tone and content of his message and having completely forgotten his purpose of trying to lift John's spirits, Francis rose to go about his day.

 

"Father, may I say something to Maman?" asked John.

 

Francis looked at him sharply.  While a loving parent and a lenient one, Francis was also a man of his era, ever mindful of the commandment to respect one's elders.  Did he hear sarcasm in John's voice, he wondered?  Seeing nothing other than earnestness in the boy's gaze, he gruffly assented, "Yes, by all means, lad.  I'm sorry I forgot."

 

"Ahem," John cleared his throat and launched into his speech.  "Dear Maman, I have grown very tall since you last saw me.  Everyone says so, and some say I am almost as tall as Father and           may even grow taller.  I have had much success in hunting and fishing, and Father says I may have my own weapons and hunting tools if the next ship has some to sell.  I work with the men           every day and not the children.  I am strong and healthy. 

 

 Oh, and I hope you are all well. 

 

                                                                                                                                         Your loving son, John."

 

Now it was John's turn to feel self-satisfied.  He asked, "May I go, Father?  I promised Mary I would show her how to make a lobster trap.  I'll be back in time for evening chores."

 

"Of course, John.  Give Mary my regards on this beautiful day." 

 

Taking his leave of Elder Brewster, Francis did not notice the older man rubbing his wrist and wincing slightly.

 

John's words had darkened Francis' mood.  Mary Chilton suffered much loss during the general sickness.  At 13, she was the youngest child of James Chilton and his wife and travelled alone with them while her elder siblings remained in Leiden.  James, 64, and a merchant tailor, was ill-equipped by both age and occupation to undertake a dangerous ocean voyage, but he longed to bring at least one of his children to a place of religious freedom and safety. 

 

His resolve was further stiffened by an unpleasant incident that occurred in Leiden.  As James walked his daughter home one afternoon, 20 young hooligans assaulted them, cursing and throwing stones.  Struck in the head, James fell to the ground.  The boys ran away, disappearing into the crowded city streets, but for James this was the final straw.  He wanted to live his final years in the peaceful practice of his religion without fear that he, his wife, or children might be attacked while walking the streets of their hometown. 

 

The lengthy voyage took its toll on both parents, and James succumbed to the general sickness dying aboard the Mayflower in December 1620.  His wife died a few weeks later.  Mary found herself orphaned, surrounded by sick and dying people, and without a home.  She was truly alone.  Whether the Pilgrims had planned for this possibility is unknown; if they did, they left no record of it.  Nonetheless, we know from subsequent events that they did everything in their power to comfort the grieving child, even though many suffered their own illnesses and losses.  One such opportunity occurred when the women and children prepared to leave the ship for the first time. 

 

Elder Brewster's wife, Mary, began her campaign on board the ship.  Quietly approaching the other women, she explained, "Dear Mary, has lost so much, and I long to see her smile.  My proposal is this, when we approach Plymouth for the first time, let us stay back and allow Mary to be the first of the women to set foot upon our new home.  Tis a small thing, but I know it will please her." 

 

As the shallop approached shore one cold, sunny day, Mary jumped overboard unassisted, laughing as cold water splashed her skirts while she waded to shore.[i]  Behind her, Mary Brewster was not alone in wiping a tear from her eyes.

 

The concern about where to house Mary remained, however.  While most of the colonists were willing to open their homes to her, as yet few had homes at all.  Also, they were sickening and dying at a frightening pace.  By February 1621, there were only three families untouched by death: the Brewsters, the Hopkins, and the Billingtons.

 

Considering the adequacy of these three as potential adoptive parents, Francis concluded that only the Brewsters, healthy, sober, God-fearing, and decent Saints, would do.  As to the Hopkins, while Elizabeth Hopkins and her children seemed fine, Francis distrusted the father, Stephen, who had participated in a mutiny in 1609 while voyaging to the colonies.  True, a man should be forgiven the misguided adventures of his youth, thought Francis, but he doubted Stephen would be a good father for young Mary.  The Billingtons were completely out of the question.  Wild troublemakers, that lot, he often thought to himself.  The younger Billington had almost blown up the Mayflower when he accidently discharged a weapon below decks and sent sparks flying toward the gunpowder supply, while the elder son managed to lose himself in the woods, requiring that an expedition be sent to rescue him.  The parents had no respect for authority, showed little charity toward others, and lacked all piety.  No, the Billingtons would not do at all, he concluded.  He prayed that the Brewsters would take her in.

 

At 53, William Brewster held an uncontested place of honor among the Pilgrims, as did his wife, Mary, and their youngest sons, Love (age 9) and Wrestling (age 6).[ii],[iii]  During the first winter, when as many as three people died daily, William tended to the ailing.  Working ceaselessly, he fetched wood for fires to keep them warm, boiled water to clean their clothes, washed their sore and swollen bodies, dressed and undressed them, and helped prepare their food.  Already beloved in England and Leiden, he became a legend in Plymouth. 

 

William was also the Plymouth Congregation's Teaching Elder. [iv]   Since the Pilgrims lacked a pastor (he stayed in Leiden with the remaining Separatists), William stepped into the pastor's shoes, serving as the group's religious leader and spiritual guide.  He normally devoted his time to studying the Bible and other religious texts so that he might prepare uplifting sermons for the Sabbath.  He tended to all the spiritual needs of the Plymouth congregants, administering the sacraments, and overseeing church matters.  A powerful, erudite, and moving speaker, he inspired his listeners to good works and avoidance of sin.  William appreciated discretion and modesty above all else, and he abhorred "the putting on of airs" by those who considered themselves better than others. 

 

William's friend and protégé, the newly elected Governor of Plymouth Colony described him as "wise, discreet, well-spoken, wont to make grave and deliberate utterances, of cheerful spirit, social and pleasant, humble and modest."   William was also "inoffensive, innocent, tenderhearted, and compassionate."  The Governor's only criticism appeared to be that William "often undervalued himself and sometimes overvalued others."  

 

The Brewsters arrived in Plymouth with significant resources, including foodstuffs, supplies, and furniture such that they could easily add another youngster to the household, and they were more than willing to provide a home for Mary. 

 

They had also adopted orphans previously.  During the summer of 1620, during the Pilgrims' desperate negotiations with the Merchant Adventurers and ship captains for passage to the New World, they received a curious request.  A certain Samuel More, a well-to-do landowner from Shropshire, offered to pay for the sea passage and care of four children, aged four to eight.[v]  They were, Samuel explained, orphan children, without relatives or resources.[vi]

 

Samuel's tale was false and self-serving; the truth was much grimmer.  Samuel had married his third cousin, Katherine, a marriage of convenience to preserve the family estates.  Local gossip mentioned a previous beau.  Years passed and Katherine bore several children.  Samuel believed they were his until he noticed that they strongly resembled a local farmer named Jacob.  When confronted, Katherine confessed, pointing to a pre-contract made with Jacob before her marriage and stating her belief that Jacob was her true husband.  She requested a divorce and asked to raise the children with him.  Samuel refused. 

 

In subsequent court proceedings, Katherine begged for custody and tearfully informed the court that Samuel planned to send the children away.   As the claims and counterclaims wound their way through the ecclesiastical courts, it became obvious that the judges discounted Katherine's fears.  They ultimately granted her a divorce but awarded custody of the children to Samuel, thus empowering him to dispose of the children at his will.  The Pilgrims became unwitting accessories to Samuel's cruel revenge.

 

The four More children were placed with Mayflower families for passage to the colonies.  The Brewsters took in five-year-old Richard and four-year-old Mary.  The More children suffered the hardships of the Pilgrims in a disproportionate manner.  By summer 1621, three had died in the general sickness.  Richard alone survived under the kind ministrations of the Brewsters.  As an adult he became a mariner, moved to Salem, married and lived to the age of 89.  When he died, he left several descendants assuring the More descendance for generations.

 

By summer 1621 the Brewster's immediate household consisted of Elder William and his wife, Mary, their sons Love and Wrestling, their adoptive son Richard More, and possibly Mary Chilton.[vii]

[i] While this anecdote is well known in Pilgrim lore, historians have not found contemporary mention of it.
[ii] William was founder of the Separatist Church at Scrooby, Nottinghamshire, and he migrated with fellow Separatists to Leiden in 1608 where he began printing religious books and pamphlets. 
[iii] William and Mary's eldest son, Jonathan, and their daughters, Patience and Fear, came to Plymouth later.
[iv] The Separatist Church hierarchy adhered to a simple structure.  The Pastor and the Teaching Elder shared the responsibility for the spiritual guidance of the congregation.  Both roles were paid out of funds raised from the congregation.  Next in the church hierarchy were the unpaid Ruling Elders, and they assisted the Pastors and Teaching Elders.  They taught in the absence or sickness of the Pastor and Teaching Elder.  Third in the church positions were the Deacons, whose responsibilities included caring for the poor and needy, spreading the religion, and overseeing the Church's coffers.  All the church authorities served at the pleasure of the congregation and could be voted out of office as well an in.  This latter point would have interesting repercussions throughout colonial history as ministers were courted, criticized, harassed, and dismissed with some frequency in the more contentious communities.
[v] Samuel More and the More children were not Richardson ancestors.
[vi] At the time, London and Virginia Colony operated under a covenant of mutual assistance whereby vagrant London children, who were responsible for a lot of petty crime, were sent to Virginia, which always needed more labor to work its large tracts.  Since the Pilgrims' original destination was Virginia Colony, this request made perfect sense.
[vii] We do not know who took Mary Chilton in during these early years.  Given the limited number of complete families, the scarcity of provisions, and the challenges of colonial life, she probably went to a family of means and kindness.  Given Elder Brewster's personal wealth and position in the Church, the possibility that he took her in is not far-fetched.

 

Four 

Samoset visits Plymouth

 

As William weighed potential topics for his sermons one morning, he heard a commotion from the town center, a stone's throw from his front door.  Venturing outside, he noticed two women hurrying away, holding tightly to children who, with mouths agape, craned their heads to look back toward a small group of men that included Francis Cooke and Richard Warren, both of whom held their weapons at the ready.  Approaching them, he saw another man standing among them and repeating, "Welcome Englishmen!  Welcome Englishmen!"  All thought of sermons flew from William's head, and he stared, much like the children, at the tall, nearly naked stranger.

 

That stranger was, of course, Samoset, who through gestures and English phrases learned from fishermen that frequented the coast north of Plymouth, initiated the first sustained contact between Pilgrims and Natives.  Later the Pilgrims learned that Samoset was a sagamore, or minor chief, of the Wampanoag, one of the eastern Abenaki tribes.  While visiting Wampanoag Chief Massasoit, he heard about the Pilgrims and hastened to meet them.

 

He seems friendly enough, thought William, but best to use caution until we know him better.

 

To William's relief, the Colonial Governor soon appeared and took charge of the situation.  Despite having worked on diplomatic missions while at Court, William preferred the contemplative life and did not wish to assume responsibility for negotiations between English settlers and native people.  For the moment at least, the spiritual care of English souls was his primary concern, and he gratefully returned to his worktable.  Perhaps a sermon centered on the Christian value of neighborly love would be appropriate given Samoset's unexpected appearance, he thought.

 

Francis Cooke felt no such hesitation.  He hungered to hear all that Samoset had to say and to learn all he could.  Francis believed he understood what made an Englishman an Englishman, a Frenchman a Frenchman, and a Dutchman a Dutchman.  What, he wondered, made an Indian an Indian?[i]  What were their concerns, their fears, their hopes, and desires?  Did they know God? Did they have cities or grand towns somewhere beyond Plymouth?  Did they have large families?  Did they know peace or war? 

 

The Pilgrims' primary question: Where were the people of this place, and why had they left, allowing their fields to lie fallow and their trails to become overgrown and faint? was soon answered. Four years prior a catastrophic plague swept through the area causing the death of almost all the Patuxet, tribal members of the Wampanoag confederation.  The Pilgrims would soon meet Tisquantum (Squanto), the sole survivor of the Patuxet, who escaped the plague only because he had been kidnapped by an English explorer and was absent when illness struck.[ii] 

 

Samoset's arrival marked the beginning of the Wampanoag-Pilgrim friendship, and the peace treaty with Massasoit, the Wampanoag sachem, which endured almost 55 years.

 

One Pilgrim wrote about the Native Americans:

 

"We have found the Indians very faithful in their covenant of peace with us, very loving, and ready to pleasure us.  We often go to them, and they come to us.  Some of us have been fifty miles by land in the country with them,…"

 

Five 

Departure of the Mayflower

 

The Mayflower set sail for England on April 5, 1621.  The return trip took only five weeks as the vessel ran ahead of the wind and enjoyed good weather.  She never returned to New England, but her voyage of 1620 earned her a place in history. Her captain, part owner in the ship, died within a year of returning home.  The Mayflower was appraised during the probate of his estate and then likely dismantled and sold for scrap.  There is no record of her having sailed again, although other ships named "Mayflower "continued to ply the seas.

 

Francis' letter to Hester, born out of competing desires to share his experiences yet calm her fears, was quite misleading.   The Pilgrims experienced a terrible winter.  The "general sickness" that afflicted them was a deadly mix of scurvy, which they could not address due to the lack of fresh fruits and vegetables, and pneumonia.  The numbers tell the story.  Only one person died on the voyage from England, but once in North America their death rate accelerated.  Six people died in December; eight died in January; 17 died in February; 13 died in March; and five or six more died over the spring and summer.   Of the 102 passengers that set out from England in 1620 a total of 51 died, including 14 of the 19 women.  Adding the two infants born aboard the ship, the new Colony consisted of merely 53 people, including at least 17 children under the age of 18.  Given the deaths and the general unfitness of the Mayflower colonists in terms of physical stamina, agricultural and other productive experience, and complete ignorance of the conditions in the New World, the survival of the Colony was truly astonishing. 

 

Once the "general sickness" passed, the surviving Pilgrims slowly regained strength.  Their crops, for the most part, and thanks to advice from the Native Americans, were also successful, particularly the corn.  They practiced their religion in peace.  They mourned their dead and carried on. 

[i] We now know the use of the term "Indian" was based on a geographic misunderstanding on the part of the first Europeans to reach America.  Thinking they had reached India, the Europeans called the natives "Indians".  Even after learning that they had not landed in India, Europeans continued to refer to Native Americans as Indians.  According to the National Museum of the American Indian, the terms American Indian, Indian, Native American, Indigenous American, and Native are considered acceptable.  This book strives to identify Natives by their tribal names whenever possible but otherwise uses the above terminology.  www.americanindian.si.edu/nk360/faq/did-you-know, November 2022.
[ii] Most likely smallpox.

 

 

PART TWO

Plymouth Colony 1621-1630

 

During its first nine years, Plymouth Colony thrived, although growth was slow.  Only 22 adult men and five adult women survived the first winter.  Upon their shoulders weighed the responsibility of building their community.  Few additional settlers arrived prior to 1630.  While English advocates published pamphlets extolling the virtues of Plymouth, potential new colonists were troubled by the winter's death toll and by Separatist ideology.  

 

Meanwhile, Plymouth's primary communal concerns included establishing stable agricultural, hunting, and fishing practices, preparing for and accommodating planned Pilgrim arrivals, managing unexpected immigrant arrivals, maintaining good relations and expanding trade with the Native Americans, and figuring out how to wrest financial control of the Colony from its funders in England.  On an individual level, Plymouth colonists focused on more personal matters, including love, courtship, and marriage.

 

The following stories describe this period of growth from both personal and communal perspectives.  The personal stories are the easiest to follow and appreciate.  The themes we visit in personal matters rarely vary from generation to generation and culture to culture.  Communal themes presented distinct challenges.  One arose upon the arrival of a group of "lusty"[i] male settlers who eschewed any kind of religious or family lifestyle.  These men, funded by an investor who thought a bunch of young go-getters would work harder and provide a better investment return, turned out to be complete failures.  Interested in obtaining benefit from the new land without making any effort to invest in a communal enterprise, they soon antagonized everyone and were sent back to England.

 

A second challenge was how to achieve financial independence from the Merchant Adventurers.  Their demands, and the Pilgrims' earnest attempts to fulfill them, left the colonists in a continual state of stress and near-poverty.  Struggling to develop sizable farms from the poor New England soil, frustrated in their fishing endeavors, and undermined by their small numbers, the Pilgrims found they simply could not serve two masters.  To survive, they needed to control their financial destiny.

 

Six

Building the Town of Plymouth

 

The first order of business was planning and developing Plymouth town: building common structures and dwellings beyond the few rude structures that were constructed over the winter, laying out roads, building protective fencing, and erecting a defensive structure upon which to mount the cannon.  The second order of business was clearing farmlands and planting them, becoming proficient hunters and fishermen, and developing profitable trading relationships with both Native Americans and visiting Europeans.

 

To survive, the Pilgrims had to become something they had never been before.  Francis Cooke, a specialized textile worker and city-dweller, had to reinvent himself as a farmer, a builder, a cook, a hunter and gatherer, a repairer of clothing and shoes, a fence repairer, and a road surveyor.  Like the other colonists who came from European cities, he had to carve a life out of the wilderness, relying not on one specialized skill but learning many others.  Francis was thrilled by the challenge.  When he thought of his former trade, it was not with fondness.

 

The textile industry was second only to agriculture in economic importance in the 17th century.   Textile workers produced silk, linen, cotton, and wool.  The production of fine worsted wool, necessary to clothe wealthy landowners, merchants, financiers, government officials, religious figures, and aristocrats, was of paramount importance. 

 

Producing woolen cloth from sheep fleeces was a complicated process and required many different specialists with different skill sets and training.  Once a fleece was removed from a sheep - preferably in one continuous piece - it was rolled and bound.  The bound fleeces were then sold to merchants for resale or to cloth producers (drapers or clothiers) who employed specialists to turn the fleece into a usable product. 

 

The first step in this process involved cleaning the fleeces.  An animal living in the wild, passing through woods, briars, rivers, mud, and moors, gathers quite a bit of stuff in its pelt.  Men called "fleece breakers" pulled apart the fleeces and removed large debris, such as rocks, mud balls, leaves, and twigs.  Next, men beat the wool with sticks to jar small debris loose.  After cleaning, the wool was sorted according to quality. 

 

After sorting, the wool went through various washes of cold, soapy water or hot water and lye to remove grease, other oils, dirt, and any remaining foreign matter.  After washing, the wool was rinsed with clear water.  Then it was laid out to dry and beaten with willow branches to break up tangles.  Once dry, the wool might be dyed, although dye could also be applied later in the process.  Later it was treated with butter or oil to make it easier to work. 

 

At this point, wool-combers stepped in to treat the higher quality wool.[ii]  Using simple tools and motions resembling hair combing, they coaxed the tangle of woolen fibers into long, straight, smooth fibers.  These fibers were used to produce fabrics called worsteds. At this point, the wool was turned over to spinners who worked the fiber, pulling it, twisting it, and turning it until it was converted into a thin, continuous thread.  Finally, the wool could be woven into fabric for use in clothing or upholstery.

One day, as they worked in the fields, John asked Francis to tell him about his time as a wool-comber.  Thinking back, Francis replied, "Well, lad, I began my profession when I was 12 years old, younger than you.  I apprenticed for seven years before the guild deemed me ready for independent service.  The work was laborious, slow, and tedious.  It was also boring.  I carried out the same motions hour after hour, day after day." 

 

"The conditions were unpleasant.  I spent the hours in a small windowless room, with a fire burning all day.  The purpose of the fire was to keep a large pot of water hot.  I heated my combs in the water and then used them to comb the sheep fleece to soften it and disperse the oil that had been previously applied."

 

"Did you use a comb, then, like our hair combs, Father?" asked John.    

 

"Oh no, John, the combs were quite different.  They were large and heavy.  I would fasten one to a post and hang the fleece from it.  Then I used the other to comb the fleece.  I combed the fleece over and over until it fell in long, straight fibers.  After work I was so tired, and my back often troubled me due to the weight of the combs and the repeated motion.  I could not wait to leave my little room and come home to you and your mother at the end of every day."

 

"Do you miss wool-combing, Father? Would you rather have stayed a wool-comber than become a farmer?"

 

"Not in the least bit, John.  Wool-combing was difficult and tiring.  I much prefer the work we do here in Plymouth.  We are outside in the fresh air; the work has variety, and I feel that I am developing many skills.  It is odd, when I was in Leiden I thought not much about the shortcomings of my profession, but now that I have seen another way of spending my days, I realize I am much happier as a colonial farmer."

 

"And shall I be a farmer, then too?" asked John.

 

"You are lucky, John, you will have many more choices than I did as a boy.  You can farm and fish and hunt.  You can learn surveying skills to help new settlers build towns and road, you can build homes and other structures for them; you can become a merchant or trader. Our Colony and those that will follow will need so many skills.  Have no doubt, my boy, you will find your calling."

"Well," John replied, "I may become a farmer like you, Father, but I also want to become a better hunter.  I want to be the best hunter of wolves in Plymouth so I can save our animals from the foul marauders and earn bounties from the town!" 

 

"Well, that is a fine goal, John.  Your mother will be proud."

 

By the fall of 1621, the colonists had built and fortified Plymouth town, planted and reaped a variety of crops, and become proficient in hunting fowl and deer.  The skill that still eluded them was fishing, which proved frustrating as they counted on fish to provide both nourishment and trade goods.  Lulled into thinking that fishing was easy, it must have been annoying to be so bad at it.  Eventually, they learned they had brought the wrong equipment, and until they received better equipment from England or mastered native techniques, they would be unable to meet the fishing quotas imposed by the Merchant Adventurers. 

 

During the following years, the colonists noticed an unfortunate pattern.  Good fortune was almost always accompanied by bad, and this meant that the tiny Colony could never become a robust, growing community capable of securing its long-term independence.

 

 

Seven

Arrival of the Fortune

 

The next "good news-bad news" event occurred in November 1621, when a 55-ton ship arrived from England.  As the ship approached Plymouth harbor, the Pilgrims, not knowing whether she was hostile, fired a warning cannon volley.  Upon discovering the ship was the Fortune, sent by the Merchant Adventurers who financed the Mayflower's voyage, the colonists rejoiced.  Their contentment was short-lived.  The ship, carrying about 35 passengers, was poorly provisioned, lacking food and supplies to provide for the newly arrived settlers whose numbers nearly doubled Plymouth's population.  The Pilgrims had sufficient harvested crops and trade goods to sustain its population of 53 people through the winter.  The same resources would now need to support 89.   Alone in New England save for the neighboring tribes, who rarely had extra food themselves, the Pilgrims faced a possible famine.  Inventorying the plantation's stores, the Pilgrims calculated they had sufficient provisions for six months - if everyone agreed to half rations until relief, in the form of a new ship with goods aboard, arrived.  Despite some grumbling, the Mayflower Compact standards held, and outright rebellion was avoided.  The Mayflower families would open their homes and stores to the new settlers. 

 

Voyagers on the Fortune included Robert Hicks, a 42-year-old English fellmonger[iii], and John Winslow, the 24-year-old brother of Mayflower passengers Edward and Gilbert Winslow.  The Winslow brothers, five of whom eventually made their way to New England, came from a prosperous and educated family of Droitwich, County Worcester, England.  They were the type of men who form the backbone of communities throughout the world: well off but not rich, sober but not stiff, religious but not tedious, intelligent but not overly intellectual, well-groomed but not especially handsome. 

 

A Family Reunites in Plymouth

 

Disembarking from the Fortune, John grinned broadly upon sighting his brothers, Edward and Gilbert, waving from the dock.  He had not seen them in over a year, and they embraced one another warmly.  With initial greetings exchanged, John turned to Edward and said, "Edward, I am most anxious to see Elizabeth.  Mother and Father long to receive word that they will soon become grandparents and instructed me to seek her out straightaway.  Where is she hiding?" 

 

Edward's smile faded, and Gilbert looked away. 

 

"What?" asked John, "What has happened?"

 

"Did you not receive my letter then?" queried Edward.

 

"No, I fear not.  I was traveling prior to the Fortune's departure and received no news."

 

"John, we suffered terrible sickness soon after arriving here.  A great many of our number perished within a few short months; we lost half of our people over the winter and spring," said Edward. "My dear Elizabeth was among them." 

 

"Oh, Edward, I am truly sorry," responded John. 

 

This was a terrible blow.  The Winslow parents, Edward and Magdalen, having lost two daughters in infancy, rejoiced when Edward married Elizabeth.  They dreamed that news of a young grandson or granddaughter would ease the pain of former losses.  Now, it seemed they had lost another daughter and could expect no grandchildren soon.

 

"When did she die?" asked John.

 

"March last," responded Edward and then added, "but God assured that my grief was short.  A member of our Leiden congregation lost her husband in the sickness and was left a widow with a young son and a nursing infant.  Her name is Susanna, and I am sure you will come to love her as I have.  We married in May.  Her sons are Resolved and Peregrine.  Resolved is six years-old and quite a scamp.  I am sure he will give me trouble in my old age!  Peregrine is almost one-year-old."

 

Stunned, John dared not respond.  He had arrived expecting to greet his brother's wife and perhaps a child.  Instead, his brother seemed to have buried one wife and married another with unusual haste.  His thoughts racing, he calculated that Elizabeth had been dead but two months when Edward remarried.  What new customs were these that reduced bereavement to so short a time and sanctioned the hasty marriage of recently widowed persons?

 

Still, he thought, I should not judge.  Edward is a godly man, and the strength of his calling led him to Leiden and to Elizabeth.  He would not act wrongly in a matter as important as marriage.  Nor do I know enough about Plymouth and conditions here to criticize.

 

Reading his thoughts, Edward spoke, "John, you must understand.  After losing half of our people, those remaining were weak and alone.  We had but 50 settlers, including children, to begin our lives here.  Susanna was alone with an infant and a young child and no one to look after her.  I was alone… and lonely too." 

 

"Brother," said John, "forgive me.  I do not judge you, yet this is much to accept in but little time.  When I met Elizabeth, I loved her as a sister, and I am sure I will come to love Susanna too, but I would ask for some time to mourn Elizabeth.  Perhaps I could spend tonight aboard ship before I meet your Susanna and the children on the morrow?"

 

"As you wish," responded Edward with resignation.  Disappointed that John would not come home with him, Edward nonetheless understood his dilemma and half expected this outcome.  He felt grateful that John had loved and would mourn Elizabeth.

 

That night, meant to be one of joyful reunion, the brothers dined apart.  Edward returned home to Susanna and her children.  Gilbert joined them, for unmarried people lodged with families.  John retreated to his solitary berth on the Fortune and ruminated long and hard on the difficulties facing the immigrants, isolated in a small corner of an untamed continent whose size explorers could only guess. After many hours, he fell into a troubled sleep.  The following morning, he penned a letter to his parents, which would accompany the Fortune on her return voyage.

 

As he wrote, he wondered whether it was right of those emigrating from their homelands to take wives and children to the colonial plantations, far from family and friends, into a wilderness lacking the comforts of civilization.  The question was much debated in England.  Many people thought that men, unburdened by wives and families, would use their time more efficiently and thus return more profit to the Merchant Adventurers who financed the colonial experiments.  Others thought that men who emigrated with their families would be less likely to stray into unseemly behaviors and, desiring to protect their families, would be incentivized to quickly establish thriving communities. 

 

The Saints never considered leaving their families behind; their focus was not purely financial.  They had commissioned two boats to bear them across the sea; however, when one proved unseaworthy, families had to be split up.  James Chilton and William Brewster came with wives and young children; Francis Cooke brought one son.  Given the losses and suffering they sustained the first winter many likely regretted the decision to bring gently bred women and tender children into the New England wilderness. 

 

John had no answer to this dilemma and doubted there was one.  A continuum of choices seemed to exist, some better some worse, and while both Saints and Strangers tried to make good choices, sometimes good choices did not result in good outcomes.  He was saddened, however, that Edward had paid such a high price for bringing Elizabeth with him.

 

After writing to his parents, John felt better.  Edward had done what was necessary to survive, and John admired Edward's willingness to provide refuge to a young Pilgrim widow and her children.  Far from England, lacking the comforts and conveniences of home, lengthy mourning was a luxury precious few could afford.  It took two people to run a household in a primitive community: one to perform the outward facing roles traditionally held by men and one to perform the domestic roles traditionally held by women.  Someone had to go out and hunt the animals, tend the fields, and build the houses, and someone had to prepare the food, mind the house and garden, go to market and mill, and tend the children.  John wondered why God in his wisdom had exacted such a high price from the Saints, but what was done was done.  Dwelling on the matter helped no one. 

 

Eight

Departure of the Fortune

 

When the Fortune departed for England in December 1621, the Pilgrims had built about seven private homes and four communal buildings.  They had harvested their first crops and made peace with several local tribes.  With the Fortune's departure, they also began to make good on their promise to return a profit to their financial backers.  The Fortune was filled with various hogsheads[iv] of beaver and other animal skins as well as clapboards, wainscot, raw wood, and sassafras.  Unfortunately, the French seized the ship and confiscated her goods, causing many Adventurers to conclude that the Pilgrim experiment would fail, and they refused to make additional investments.  Nine years would pass before the Pilgrims could afford to bring over the Saints left in Leiden. 

 

[i] At the time, the term had more to do with their rowdy behavior and assertive attitude than with their sexual inclinations.
[ii] If the quality of the wool was not high, wool carders would use their own specialized tools to separate the shorter fibers and wind them into a ball from which woolens were made.
[iii] Dealer in hides and sheepskins.
[iv] A hogshead was a large cask used to transport liquids or food.

 

Nine

Relations with the Native Americans Deteriorate

 

Soon after the Fortune sailed, relations with the Narragansett, a powerful tribe living south of Plymouth in present day Rhode Island, began to sour.  The Narragansett knew the Fortune had delivered new colonists but neither arms nor provisions.  Sensing weakness, the Narragansett assumed an aggressive stance.  Canonicus, the Narragansett sachem, sent the Pilgrims a bundle of arrows bound in snakeskin.  Native allies explained that this represented an immediate threat and urged action, but the Pilgrims hesitated.  On one hand, they wanted to avoid hostile relations with the indigenous people.  On the other, they knew that sometimes an aggressive response to provocation might prevent an escalation of hostilities.  And so, they debated.

 Richard Warren, who had interacted with the peninsular Natives during the "Discoveries" - when small groups of Pilgrims explored Cape Cod and Plymouth – served as a beacon of calm when tensions ran high.  A merchant in England, with the wisdom of a 43-year-old rather than the hot-blooded nature of a younger man, and more accustomed to negotiating than fighting, Richard often counselled patience when others desired action. 

 

"Be slow to attack and quick to defend," he suggested when hotter heads, including that of Miles Standish, Plymouth's military Captain, called for aggressive tactics.  Standish's sound training and quick thinking had been instrumental in saving English lives during the "huggery", an attack by the Nauset Indians of Cape Cod that occurred in December 1620 while a group of Pilgrims explored the area for possible settlement.  However, he had a volatile character and believed that aggression should be answered with further aggression. 

 

In the end, the Pilgrims responded firmly, but sweetened the response with words of negotiation.  Through an interpreter, they explained that they did not seek war and preferred peace; however, if necessary, they would answer aggression with aggression.  They also filled Canonicus' snakeskin with bullets and sent it back with another messenger - a bold response when the entire Plymouth fighting force consisted of fewer than 60 men, while the Narragansett could raise an army of 5,000 warriors. 

 

They also fortified their defenses, building a palisade with locking gates around the town.  The palisade, an elongated diamond, stretched east to west along the town "highway" with watchtowers positioned on each of the diamond's points.  The Pilgrims set a watch schedule, dividing the men into four companies, with each company taking responsibility for one side of the wall.  They began to drill regularly in preparation for a possible Narragansett attack.

 

Given their weakness, with few inhabitants and even fewer provisions and arms, these bold acts were risky, and yet they proved successful.  By sending a calmly worded message indicating a preference for peace rather than war, the Pilgrims de-escalated the near-term tension occasioned by Canonicus' provocative message.  By returning the bullet-laden snakeskin, they telegraphed their refusal to be intimidated.  By building the palisade and instituting a watch, they demonstrated their intention to stay put and defend their settlement.   In combination, these actions produced the desired effect, and Canonicus and his Narragansett warriors stood down.

 

Yet relations with the local tribes remained unsettled.  In April 1622, the Pilgrims planned to visit the Massachusetts tribe from whom they had previously purchased beaver skins.   Hobomok, a Pokanoket, warned the Pilgrims that the formerly neutral Massachusetts were now in league with the Narragansett, who remained unenthusiastic about English settlement.  He also claimed that Squanto, a Pawtuxet, had betrayed the Pilgrims and was working with both tribes against the English.  While both native men had befriended the Pilgrims, the settlers knew they harbored hostility toward one another.  Not knowing which man to trust, when Standish and 10 others boarded the shallop to meet with the Massachusetts, they took both Hobomok and Squanto along.  

 

Soon after the group departed, a friend of Squanto's arrived at Plymouth claiming that he had been attacked by the Narragansett and the Massachusetts, led by Corbitant and Massassoit, and that the tribes planned additional attacks against the colonists.  Firing the cannon, the Pilgrims recalled Standish.  Once again, they faced a quandary.  Once again, they remained calm and acquired as much information as possible before acting on unsubstantiated claims.  Eventually, the Pilgrims learned that Squanto had an ulterior motive, putting his personal interests in conflict with Pilgrim interests.  He hoped to use the Pilgrims to usurp Massasoit's throne.  If the Pilgrims attacked and overthrew Massasoit, Squanto expected to assume Massasoit's place.  Thanks to the settlers' methodical approach, their efforts to understand the opposition forces, and their acknowledgement that Squanto might be acting in his own interest, the Pilgrims avoided blundering into an artificially created war.  They continued to meet and trade with the Massachusetts, and their relationship with Hobomok became stronger.  However, their relationship with Squanto never recovered.

 

Then they received hair-raising news.  Native Americans in Virginia had attacked and slain 347 English settlers.  Stunned, Plymouth residents gathered to discuss the matter.  They could not know that Virginia settlers differed in temperament, gender profile, experience, and actions from the Pilgrims.  Unlike the Pilgrims, the Virginians had not sought to establish trust and friendship with their native neighbors, and so their relations with local tribes did not provide a template for New England.   Nonetheless, the unsettling news enabled the seeds of distrust to take root.

 

Ten

Wessagusset Colony – a Failed Experiment

 

Meanwhile, the Merchant Adventurers in London became increasingly frustrated with the lack of profits flowing from New England.  While they didn't expect the same riches that flowed to other continental powers from their colonies in America, they failed to understand why the Pilgrims were either unwilling or unable to provide the trade goods that would make the venture profitable.  One of the most impatient Adventurers insisted that profits could be wrested from New England if strong, profit-minded men took charge.   In 1622, he sent seven men on the Sparrow with orders to establish a new settlement and prioritize trade, hunting, and fishing and to return goods to the investor forthwith.  These seven men arrived in Plymouth without provisions.  Once again, the Pilgrims were called upon to further divide their meager rations and suffer yet more hunger.  Once again, they did so.

 

Later that same summer, the Charity and the Swan, ships belonging to and provisioned by that same impatient Merchant Adventurer, arrived with another 60 under-provisioned men aboard.  Much to the Pilgrims' distress, these men spent the summer at Plymouth recovering from their voyage and rapidly depleting the Pilgrims' stores of provisions.  Worse, the newcomers lacked any religious or moral inclinations.  They were men of adventure and opportunity who refused to follow the Pilgrim path of community cooperation.  When they finally departed, the Pilgrims rejoiced to see them go, although many worried that the newcomers' dishonest and crude ways would reflect poorly on the Pilgrims and further undermine their relations with the Natives.  

 

Upon departing Plymouth, the men made their way north to Wessagusset[i] determined to show that they could quickly turn a profit.    The Pilgrims assisted the Wessagusset settlers to build their plantation and initiate trade with the Native Americans.  With this help, the new settlers achieved quick agricultural and trapping success, and flooded the market with corn and beaver.  This in turn drove down the prices of these goods, reducing everyone's ability to turn a profit.  

 

The Wessagusset settlers managed relations with the local tribes just as poorly.  The Native Americans complained to the Pilgrims almost daily of theft and other settler misbehavior.  To appease the Natives, the settlers hung one of their own as punishment for repeated abuses against native persons, but many thought that the man they hung was merely a scapegoat and not the actual wrongdoer. 

 

The Pilgrims found themselves in an awkward position.  While they felt little goodwill toward the Wessagusset settlers, whose profane ways and propensity for theft had quickly worn thin, the Pilgrims felt bound to support their fellow Englishmen and believed that Plymouth's precarious position in the New World would be weakened if they did not defend other immigrants.  Nonetheless, when word came that the Wessagusset governor was "keeping Indian women" and that the Wessagusset settlers had squandered their resources to the point where they were stealing from the Natives, the Pilgrims realized they could not continue to tolerate Wessagusset behavior. 

 

Conditions at Wessagusset had become so dire that the men concocted a plan to attack the Massachusetts and steal desperately needed provisions, which they believed the Indians were maliciously withholding.  Hearing of this, the Pilgrims advised, "Worry not about the corn; feed yourselves on groundnuts, clams, mussels, and other things that you can forage.  Do not risk the safety of all settlers in New England for your immediate needs. Recognize that you are weak in body and weak in number and will likely perish if you confront the Indians.  If you do not perish, you will have so risked the safety of English colonists by your reckless conduct, that England will undoubtedly send agents to hold you accountable."  

 

Meanwhile, the Pilgrims received word that Massasoit was gravely ill.  Hurrying to his side, several Pilgrims stayed to pray for him.  When he unexpectedly recovered, Massasoit renewed Wampanoag pledges of friendship with Plymouth. 

 

Returning home after the visit to Massasoit, the Pilgrims heard an odd tale.  A Native man unknown to them arrived and claimed that Massasoit had informed Hobomok of a plot among the Massachusetts, Nauset, Paomet, Manomet, Agowam, and Isle of Capawack natives to attack both Wessagusset and Plymouth.  Massasoit had supposedly insisted that Hobomok relay the news to the Pilgrims and advise them to attack pre-emptively.  The unknown Native then stated that he had come to relay the information to the Pilgrims.  Hobomok disclaimed any knowledge of the entire story.

 

Listening to the tale with skepticism, the Pilgrims wondered why Massassoit had not come to them directly and why Hobomok claimed ignorance of the plot.   Yet again, they struggled to understand the true nature of the threat in a maelstrom of misinformation.  William Brewster and Richard Warren lacked confidence both in the source and the quality of the information about the supposed plot against the English.  

 

"Why," asked Warren, "had Massasoit of the Wampanoag, a friend to the Pilgrims, asked Hobomok to relay the news rather than telling the Pilgrims himself, especially since the Pilgrims had been with Massasoit when he supposedly became aware of the plot?  Why did Hobomok disavow the story? Further, how credible was the accusation that the Cape tribes, loyal to Massasoit, were participants in the plot?  Why did Massasoit urge the Pilgrims to attack, when his own subject tribes were supposedly acting against the Pilgrims contrary to his express wishes? 

"These questions," argued Warren, "cloud the matter sufficiently that we should try and gather more information rather than acting precipitously."

 

"I agree," added John Winslow, "although my concerns are different.  First, we are numerically insufficient.  The Natives, who number in the thousands, will likely prevail in any armed conflict, so we should avoid war if possible.  Second, we have benefitted from their generosity many times.  Treating our benefactors and allies as enemies on the word of an unknown warrior strikes me as unseemly and unwise."

 

Others argued for an immediate pre-emptive strike against the Massachusetts, who were identified as the instigators of the crisis.  These latter arguments prevailed, and Captain Standish assembled a squad of eight Plymouth men and rushed to Wessagusset, taking Hobomok with them as a guide and interpreter.  Standish's orders were to inform the Wessagusset settlers of the threat, and in council with them, determine whether the Natives were in the wrong.  If he decided that the Massachusetts indeed intended to attack the two Colonies, he was to kill Wituwamet, the principal Massachusetts aggressor, and bring his head to Plymouth to serve as a warning to other Natives inclined to attack the English.[ii]  Arriving at Wessagusset, Standish assumed control of the Colony and bid his time until he could confront Wituwamet. 

 

Meanwhile, the tribes had learned about the Wessagusset plan to attack the Natives and steal their food stores.

 

Soon after Standish arrived, Wituwamet and Pecksuot of the Massachusetts came to visit Hobomok.  Wituwamet, a proud, aggressive warrior, was known for his strong dislike of the English, who he disparaged as weaklings and children.  During his visit, he showed his disdain.  Pecksuot went further and insulted Standish directly.  Predictably, their taunts soon enraged the volatile Standish, and he decided that the Massachusetts must pay for their ongoing verbal aggressions.[iii] 

 

Some days later, Standish lured Wituwamet, Pecksuot, and two others to Wessagusset.  Ushering them into the main lodge, the Pilgrims bolted the door and attacked.  In close quarters, the men fought hand-to-hand, with long-bladed knives the weapon of choice.  Outnumbered, the Indians put up a fierce fight, yet Wituwamet and two others were killed.  Pecksuot managed to escape, although the Pilgrims subsequently captured and hanged him.  Emboldened by their victory, the Pilgrims and some Wessagusset men proceeded to attack the nearest Massachusetts village killing every warrior they encountered.  Leaving women and children unharmed, Standish pursued the escaping warriors and trapped them in a swamp.   After several hours Standish tired of waiting for the warriors to emerge and returned to Plymouth.  The Massachusetts never retaliated for Standish's attacks, and the Wampanoag and Cape tribes stayed out of the matter. 

The surviving Wessagusset settlers decided to abandon the settlement and boarded the Swan, fleeing north to Monhiggon (present day Maine.) 

 

Back in Plymouth, the Pilgrims made a disturbing choice.   Standish mounted Wituwamet's head on a pike above the Plymouth palisade, where it remained for many years, a gruesome testament to England's New World presence. 

 

Horrified at the vision of a pike with a human head mounted upon it, Mary Brewster pleaded to have it be removed.  "William," she cried, "'tis most unseemly that the children should view that horrible sight daily.  What kind of Christians will they become, growing up under the evidence of such butchery?  How can mothers instill the virtues of love and charity in the presence of such a ghastly sight?" 

 

William, much troubled by the war trophy, agreed with Mary in his heart but also wondered if demonstrating the Pilgrims' intention to remain in New England and defend themselves when necessary, might work to deter future native aggression.  Nevertheless, embracing his spiritual role as the Church's Teaching Elder, he argued that Wituwamet's head must be properly buried to preserve his dignity and that of his family and people.  Unfortunately, William's arguments did not prevail. 

 

Most men favored leaving the head in place.  Perhaps even Francis Cooke, a kind, reasonable man, argued that the security of the colony depended upon the Pilgrim's ability to present an image of strength to the Native Americans.  He might have expressed concern for the safety of Plymouth wives and children and argued that the Pilgrims must secure an unassailable right to dwell in New England.

 

Merchants like Richard Warren and John Winslow might have explained that trade negotiations usually benefitted from the perception that all parties were equal and argued that the war trophy would convince the Natives to respect the Pilgrims. 

 

Most of the other men supported leaving Wituwamet's head in place.[iv]  And so, despite the pleas of Elder Brewster, the written admonishments from their Leiden pastor, and the Native's initial kindness and generosity, the Pilgrims left Wituwamet's head on its spike. 

 

The Pilgrim children harbored their own opinions.  Mary Chilton and John Cooke, 15 years old, were almost adults.  Love Brewster was 12, but like most of the Pilgrim children had grown up quickly.  Between their experiences as persecuted Separatists in the Old World, the lengthy, frightening journey on the Mayflower, the death-filled first winter, and the near constant threat of starvation, they were survivors of enduring trauma.  In Plymouth they spent their days helping the adults with the hunting, gathering, farming, repairing, cleaning, food preparation, laundering and other chores vital to the colonists' survival.  Their daily lives did not differ much from those of the adults.  Nor were they segregated from life's harsher realities.  They had seen death up close, and if they had not witnessed childbirth firsthand, they had been near enough, both on the Mayflower and at Plymouth, to hear the anguished cries of women in labor and the frantic yelps or heartbreaking silence of newborn infants.  As to Wituwamet's head, these young survivors had plenty to say.

 

"I think it's horrible," said Mary.  "It smells bad, and the crows are always about picking at it."

 

"Mary, hush," responded John, glancing at Love.

 

"I know all about it," boasted Love, less than convincingly.  "I've seen it, and I too think it is horrible, but that Wituwamet was mean and threatened good Mr. Standish.  We must punish our enemies, must we not?"

 

John had spoken at length with his father, Francis, about the matter.  Lacking other family to confide in, Francis had become accustomed to speaking to John as he would another adult.  Now on the brink of manhood (upon turning 16, John would be old enough to bear arms in the Colony militia and would be expected to train with the men once a week and go into battle if need be), he wondered how much to say in front of Love.

 

"Well, Love," he responded slowly, "my father says it is complicated.  Most of the Natives have been our friends since we arrived.  Some of the tribes are friendlier than others.  But even among the friendly tribes, there are warriors who fear and dislike us."

 

"Why would they dislike us, John?  We only want to live in peace and practice our religion.  At least that is what Father says," said Love.

 

"Yes, that is true.  But we are different from them, and some people, whether Natives or English, do not like these differences and find cause for distrust in them.  Our differences are many.  We have a different relationship with the land; we build dwellings and towns and make them permanent; we build great ships and sail the oceans seeking trade and new lands; we worship a different God; the most educated among us learn from books and schools rather than from stories and elders."

 

"But those do not seem like good reasons to dislike us, John."

 

John smiled.  Love's sunny nature and uncomplicated view of the world made him a great favorite among young and old Pilgrims alike.  How could John explain a complicated matter to an uncomplicated soul?  He was learning why older people sometimes became impatient with the endless questions of youngsters.  Sometimes no good answer existed.

 

"I am sure you are right, Love.  These are small matters and should not cause dislike among people from different groups, but they do.  I'm sorry I can't explain it better, but you might remember that sometimes things don't make sense; they just are.  I'm certain you will experience at least one thing in your life that you cannot explain or understand no matter how much you try," concluded John.  Fearing that he had just failed in his first attempt to provide mature guidance to a person younger than himself, he grimaced inwardly.  Wisdom, he thought, is not easy to attain and even more difficult to share.

 

"Well, like us or not, I'm fairly certain he doesn't deserve to have his head cut off and mounted on a pole for all to see, interjected Mary.  That does not seem like a Christian thing to do."  Orphaned soon after arriving in Plymouth, Mary had been indulged by the Pilgrim adults and developed a habit of speaking her mind without fear of censure.  As usual, she cut straight to the heart of the matter and stated the obvious.

 

For his part, Love remained unconvinced that Mary and John knew much more than he did.  He had heard his parents talking in guarded terms when he and his younger brother were present, but it didn't sound like anyone knew what to do.  Some said the head should be mounted as an example.  Others said such an action was primitive and no better than what the Natives might do.  Love had seen heads mounted on spikes before – the sight was not unusual in 17th century Europe – but he knew that the adults struggled with the idea that they had come to this land to better embody the ideals of their religion as their consciences and beliefs dictated.  Perhaps, he thought, even adults found that wanting to be good did not always result in being good.

 

 

Eleven

Arrival of the Anne and the Little James

 

With the Wessagusset problem resolved and tribal relations in a state of uneasy quiet, Pilgrim thoughts turned again to survival.  Not knowing when or if additional supplies might arrive, they needed to become self-sufficient.  Agricultural output had been meager, likely, some thought, to the communal system of working the land.  Deciding that agricultural production would improve if families could farm for themselves only, they surveyed and divided the land amongst themselves according to family size.  Each person was awarded an acre with certain adjustments.  The Mayflower passengers, as "first-comers", were granted lands closest to town, and the Fortune passengers were given lands further out.  Mayflower and Fortune passengers then drew lots for the specific plots within their designated grants.  The families contributed to a common fund to support public officers and fishermen who could not tend their own plots of land.

 

Allowing the settlers to farm their own plots resulted in a much higher percentage of planted corn.  Requiring each family to contribute to a common pot to support public officers and fisherman assured that men who engaged in public service would not go without.  These changes enabled the community to benefit from both private endeavor and public services.

 

Nonetheless, the Pilgrims again found cause for discouragement.  While they had had great hopes that their spring plantings would yield bountiful crops, drought struck the Colony, threatening the harvest, and some privately feared that perhaps they did not understand this new country and how to wrest plentiful crops from her soil.  Yet again they adapted and following Richard Warren's advice to the Wessagusset settlers, they diversified their food sources.  After planting season, the men fished, which the Native Americans had taught them to do properly, and hunted deer and fowl.  Women and children gathered nuts and berries and any shellfish that could be found along the shore.  William Brewster worked to keep spirits high, preaching uplifting sermons about God's providence and the boundless recompense of hard work, but he found it difficult sometimes to connect with his flock, who after several years in New England found it increasingly difficult to muster enthusiasm.  Under constant stress for three years, they had suffered death, competition from Wessagusset, threats and plots from formerly friendly tribes, and long separations from their loved ones.  Even the most optimistic among them began to falter under the weight of constant discouragement.  The Pilgrims desperately awaited some good news.

 

One particularly fine July day the New England coastline sparkled under cloudless skies and a gentle breeze blew along her shores.  Love Brewster, now 13, looked up from the path he walked with Mary Chilton.  Stopping in his tracks, he stared speechless at the sight before him.  For several moments he could not speak. 

 

Finally, he cried, "Mary, look below!  A ship!"

 

Grabbing his hand, Mary grinned and said, "Quick, Love, let's hurry and sound the alarm before anyone else sees her!  Run!"

 

Running down the hill, they raced to the meetinghouse and climbed to the Colony's warning bell.  Taking hold of its heavy rope Mary and Love pulled with all their might, and the bell began to ring.  Clang, clang, clang.  Clang, clang, clang. 

 

"Keep at it, Love," cried Mary.

 

The colonists rushed out to see what was happening. 

 

One of the first to arrive, John Winslow extended the Dutch telescope his father had gifted him prior to his departure from England.  Focusing the sight on the ship below he shouted, "She is friendly!  It is the Anne!"

 

The Anne arrived at Plymouth Harbor in July 1623, with 60 passengers and additional provisions.  Ten days later her companion, the Little James, also carrying settlers, goods, and supplies, arrived.  Her arrival provoked universal relief since many feared the Little James had been lost at sea after a storm separated the ships.  These ships were the antidote to the Pilgrims' malaise.  Starved for contact with their families, news, and hand-made treats from home, the Pilgrims felt overwhelmed with joy and gratitude.  The ships also brought the families of several Mayflower passengers.

 

The newly arrived Saints included Love Brewster's elder sisters, Patience and Fear.  Francis Cooke's wife, Hester, arrived with four children including Jane, their eldest daughter.  George and Juliana Morton and their six children, including Patience and Sarah, arrived.  Stephen Tracy came as did Experience Mitchell.  John Jenney, a brewer and miller, part owner of the Little James, arrived with his wife, Sarah, and three children, 7-year-old Samuel, a daughter, and a baby boy born aboard the ship.

 

The Anne and the Little James carried Strangers as well.  Single men Robert Bartlett, John Faunce, and Joshua Pratt were aboard.  Margaret Hicks, the wife of Robert Hicks of the Fortune, arrived with three children including Samuel.  Richard Warren's wife, Elizabeth, of steady gaze and a no-nonsense attitude that commanded respect, arrived with five children including 13-year-old Mary and 3-year-old Abigail.

 

Wide-spread elation greeted the Anne and Little James.  Having built a successful settlement, the Pilgrims had still waited seemingly endless years for families and friends to arrive.  Even the most stoic among them had begun to suffer a nagging depression that could not be allayed as the waiting went on and their families did not arrive.  Francis Cooke had waited three long years to see Hester again.  The morning of her arrival, he was a wreck.

 

Washing his face for the third time that day, he next used a pounded twig to clean his teeth and chewed on a few pine needles to freshen his breath (both tricks learned from the Native Americans.)  He couldn't remember being this nervous even before his wedding.  John, now a sturdy, handsome lad of 16, looked on bemused.

 

"I think you're clean enough, Father," he said, "and you certainly smell better than anything Mother has smelled since she boarded the Anne."

 

Francis smiled ruefully, feeling a bit silly.  He could not explain to John what this day meant to him.  He had not laid eyes on Hester in three years, yet he was still as in love with her as when they married 20 years prior.  He had missed her more than he could have imagined possible.  Many a lonely night his mind replayed their first meeting and memories of their courtship in England where their families worked in the woolen trade.  Both were Separatists, although Francis admitted that if asked, he might have adjusted his religious preferences to court the beautiful Hester Mahieu.  Most men of his acquaintance sought certain attributes in a wife, a pleasant nature, a willingness to undertake household management, similar values and religious beliefs, and a pleasant aspect.  They sought friendship and hoped love might develop later.  Francis was truly blessed the day his path crossed Hester's, for he found all those things as well as passion, joy, laughter, and understanding. 

 

Gripping the handrail, Hester gazed toward the dock and felt similarly fortunate.  She did not expect, when she met tall, quiet Francis, that he would meet her quick mind with a thoughtful intelligence of his own, most unusual in a young tradesman.  Hester spoke French, English, and some Dutch and had been pleased to learn that Francis dominated these languages as well.  That he could read was a pleasant surprise.  Francis was her ideal mate, she thought, a faithful protector, a loyal husband, a participative parent, and a gentle lover.  At his side, I will be glad to discover this new land.

 

The years apart had been difficult for both; their love thrived on close companionship and shared intimacies.  Will he find me much changed, she wondered?  She was not a vain woman, but she wanted to look her best for Francis.  During the voyage, she spent time above decks and knew that her skin exuded a healthy, outdoor glow.  Smiling to herself she thought it quite likely he would show his enthusiasm for her arrival soon enough, regardless of whether she looked healthy or pale, was neatly dressed or ragged, in a happy mood or quite querulous. 

 

Francis and Hester seemed destined to thrive in New England.  Intelligent, hardworking, and capable, alert to opportunities and quick to make good on them, honest and well liked, they were ideal settlers.  Their children took after them.  John was admired by his peers and considered a promising leader by his elders.  Jane, at 14, had inherited her mother's beauty and vivacity.  Benefitting from the Cooke blend of attractiveness, practicality, and piousness, she attracted the attention of young men, particularly that of Experience Mitchell, a fellow passenger and her elder by 6 years. 

 

While the women and children gazed toward Plymouth and saw a sweet little town, perhaps a bit small, thought Elizabeth Warren, the four single men saw the tiny, fence-enclosed settlement, with its forlorn cluster of small wooden buildings and its lone brave cannon for what it was – a lonely outpost in a vast expanse of uncharted territory. This tiny hamlet, little better than a temporary encampment, represented their future.  It was no London, a bustling metropolis of about 300,000 people, nor even a Leiden, with a population of over 40,000.  The four, Experience Mitchell, John Faunce, Robert Bartlett, and Joshua Pratt, aged 18 to 21, surveyed the town and its environs with excitement and trepidation.

 

Experience, John, and Joshua stood close at the railing, while Robert stood off to one side, something in his stance suggesting both aloofness and discomfort.  During the voyage, he remained apart, not sure of his welcome.  A cooper by trade, Robert seemed a bit rougher and more awkward than the others.  He was also less educated and less religiously inclined.   Experience was a Separatist, and John and Joshua were Puritans; all three sought religious fellowship and freedom.  Robert, on the other hand, sought economic opportunity.

 

What would these differences in social standing and education mean for him, wondered Robert? 

 

In the old country, advancement in life was strongly linked to one's community, whether social, professional, or religious.  By those criteria, he had little in common with Experience, John, and Joshua. 

 

True, he thought, none had done or said anything to make him feel excluded.  His own lack of interest in getting to know the other young men bore greater responsibility for his current sense of estrangement.  Well, Robert, he told himself as he gazed out at his future home, you'd best get beyond your reserve and become a bit more sociable; a town this small won't look well upon anyone unprepared to throw himself into the life of the community.  Excess reserve, even if innocent, breeds distrust and suspicion.  Inwardly he sighed, this wasn't going to be easy.

 

Once the anchors were set, passengers boarded small tenders and made their way to shore where most were greeted by family and friends.  The air filled with shouts of welcome between friends, handshakes and hugs between relatives, and more than one teary eye between husbands, wives, and children long separated. 

 

Francis Cooke, overjoyed to see Hester, Jane, and the other children, swept them away along with Experience Mitchell and John Faunce.  The Cookes knew Experience from Leiden, and since Experience had befriended John, he was welcomed into the Cooke circle.  Joshua Pratt caught sight of his brother, Phineas, the sole Wessagusset planter to move to Plymouth, and the two strode away from the dock, smiling and conversing with evident pleasure.  One by one, the other passengers drifted off with friends and loved ones.  Feeling adrift, Robert wished he had become friendly with someone – anyone – on the Anne.  Setting down his pack he looked around dispiritedly.  To his relief, Elder Brewster soon arrived to collect unattached passengers, and William's gentle and welcoming nature soon eased Robert's discomfort.  Together with other newcomers who lacked connections in Plymouth, they made their way up the hill to the meetinghouse to arrange for the night's lodging.

 

By 1623, in addition to several common structures, 20 private houses had been built in Plymouth.  Twenty houses, however, were not enough to accommodate all the individuals who lived in Plymouth, which at this point contained the settlers from the Mayflower and the Fortune, the lone Wessagusset man, plus the 90-odd souls that had arrived on the Anne and the Little James, for a total of about 165 people.   The problem was solved by lodging single men with family groups until the men received land and built their own dwellings.  Experience and John joined another four young men assigned to the Cooke household.  To Experience's pleasure, one of the men was Philip Delano, Hester's nephew, a friend from Leiden who had arrived on the Fortune.

 

That evening the 12 inhabitants of the Cooke home, Francis, Hester, John, Jane, Elizabeth, and Jacob Cooke, and the six single men, shared food, merriment, and warmth.  The lodging was neither spacious nor grand, and the meal was sparing, but the Pilgrims were happy to be reunited with family and friends, and the newcomers rejoiced to see that Francis and John appeared vibrant and healthy.  Francis and John reveled in the presence of their attentive womenfolk and laughed at 5-year-old Jacob's antics. 

 

A highlight of the evening occurred when Francis and John took everyone on a tour of the home they had built for their expanded family.  While unable to begin construction immediately, by the time the Fortune arrived, theirs was one of seven one-room homes with clapboard siding, a narrow door facing the street, several tiny windows, a central open hearth, and a steeply pitched thatch roof.   The Fortune passengers who lodged with them the next year helped Francis and John enlarge the house in anticipation of Hester's arrival.  The small home now comfortably accommodated the 12 people under her roof.

 

Plymouth's main highway ran west to east through the village, from the fort on the western hill down to the beach to the east.  The Cooke home-lot lay on the south side of the thoroughfare, between Mr. Winslow's home-lot and that of Mr. Allerton.  The humble Cooke dwelling compared favorably to the homes of these two wealthy men.  Like Mr. Winslow's and Mr. Allerton's, the house was on the hill close to the fort and enjoyed the cooling sea breezes that rose upward from the shore on warm afternoons.

 

The garden, directly behind the house, received morning sun but was spared the scorching heat of summer afternoons by several trees.  For this Hester gave thanks.  A skilled gardener with French culinary traditions, she seasoned the family's meals with exotic garden herbs that needed both sun and shade.

 

That night the newly reunited couples went about reacquainting themselves as friends and lovers.  Several Pilgrim children made an appearance next spring, including Hester Cooke.

 

With the arrival of the Anne and the Little James, Plymouth again allocated land to the settlers.  For the good of the community, the new arrivals must quickly become self-sufficient.  Newly arrived bachelors soon built homes of their own.  Thus established, they could marry and start families.  In the 17th century, Englishmen usually did not marry until they could support a family, which delayed marriage until the age of 25 or later.  Since social mores at the time also recommended that spouses be of similar ages, English women usually married at about 22. 

 

In the second allotment of late 1623, each individual again received one acre with variances for age and circumstance.  The Colony divided 196 acres among the 180 residents.  Some of this acreage lay outside the 2,700-foot-long palisade.  Early colonists could remain in their original houses or transfer the home to another settler and build a new house on a lot outside the palisade. 

 

John Winslow, Robert Bartlett, John Faunce, Joshua Pratt, and Experience Mitchell each received an acre of land on which to build a home for the family that would (hopefully) soon be theirs.  Mary Chilton also received a parcel of land.  At a time when societies overwhelmingly supported the men's rights over women's, Plymouth Colony honored its promise to James Chilton, and Mary, an orphan of 16, received three acres, one for herself and one for each of her deceased parents.  Like the other grantees, Mary immediately began to improve her land.

 

The land division again ranked the colonists in order of arrival.  Mayflower and Fortune passengers received the best land on the north side of the village just outside the palisade.  The authorities announced the division on a beautiful afternoon so that the colonists would have the following day, the Sabbath, to rest and contemplate how best to use their new land.  As soon as the announcement was made and the meeting concluded, the colonists hurried to view their new landholdings. 

 

Twelve

The Courtship of Mary Chilton

 

John Winslow and Mary Chilton walked north along the street that divided the village from east to west. 

 

Now 26, John had thrived since his arrival in Plymouth in 1621.  Having come to terms with Edward's hasty marriage, he frequently entertained his young nephews so their parents might spend a moment alone. 

 

Mary had inherited her father's height and thin frame.  Her pluck, however, she inherited directly from her mother, who had been excommunicated by the Church of England for defying its edicts regarding burial rites.  Known for speaking her mind and for her extraordinary resilience, Mary was well regarded throughout the Colony and had been in a sense adopted by all the colonists after her parents' premature deaths aboard the Mayflower. 

 

"Do you have special plans for your land, Mary?"  John asked as they strolled up the road. 

 

She regarded him closely.  "Well, I know everyone thinks they have done me a great favor and that I will not know what to do," she replied.  "But, in fact, I am quite ready to manage the land, John.  In Leiden, my mother had a garden wherein she cultivated some common herbs and flowers as well as other things of a more useful nature."

 

"What sort of things?" he asked smiling.  Surely, she referred to the more exotic herbs and flowers that brought pleasure to womenfolk everywhere, he thought.

 

"Well, I wasn't exactly sure at first, and as you know, she died before she had a chance to transmit all of her knowledge.  Of late I have conversed with Doctor Fuller and have come to better understand what plants she grew and the benefits that they provide to us."

 

"Do tell," said John, intrigued.

 

"Well, she grew lemon balm, peppermint, and tansy for example, all herbs that have benefits in the curing and healing processes.  Doctor Fuller says they are important herbs for a community to have, but Mrs. Fuller has no skills in this area, and he lacks the time to devote to studying and growing them.  Doctor Fuller encouraged me to study my mother's journals and attempt to duplicate her Leiden gardens here in Plymouth.  He also thinks the Natives have much knowledge that can help us in matters of general health and that someone should take the time to learn from them.  Of course, you know what a great help they have been on the subject of tooth decay and the health of the mouth.  So, my plan is to do exactly these two things as soon as possible."  Mary's eyes sparkled, and her voice conveyed enthusiasm.

 

Lost in those eyes, John did not immediately reply.  In all honesty, he lost his train of thought when she matter-of-factly referred to the mundane issue of dental care, and he, noticing her white teeth, flushed cheeks, and pink lips found himself thinking, somewhat inanely, "Yes, good teeth are indeed a mighty boon."

 

"John, are you paying attention?" she demanded.  "Honestly, sometimes, I don't know what gets into people.  I feel like I'm speaking to the town wall."

 

Laughing, John took her hand, "I'm sorry, Mary, I was captivated by the thought of tooth decay and became distracted.  Tell me more about your plans."

 

Nervously snatching her hand away yet feeling oddly pacified and not quite understanding his joke, Mary did tell him more.  She spoke for the next half hour.  She proudly showed him every inch of her lot and explained how she planned to arrange her beds, and how she would plant them, how she would water them, how she would rotate the plantings, and how she would expand all this into larger and larger gardens as more land became available in Plymouth. 

 

Enchanted, John thought, only 16, not yet ready to marry.  Well, neither was he, really.  As a wealthy man, marriage was a luxury he could wait to savor rather than a necessity for near-term survival.  He could afford to hire indentured servants to perform labors that would otherwise fall to a wife and could take his time to find a true soulmate with whom he could fall in love.

Furthermore, he would need several years to build a house and provide for a wife and the children that would surely come soon after marriage to a woman such as Mary.  She was the one.  He doubted it not.  God willing, this girl-child would become the woman to accompany him throughout life.

 

Without a clue as to what John was thinking, Mary continued to describe her plans for her precious three-acre lot in the New World.

 

Throughout 1624, John cultivated his land and made himself useful to the Colony.  He attended meetings, both religious and secular, participated on committees, contributed to the communal coffers, and in general strove to ensure that when the name John Winslow arose in conversation, it was always followed by the thought "that doth always do his part." 

 

He also began to court Mary, subtly at first, and then more boldly.  He learned her schedule - when she attended to this chore or that.  Whenever possible, he made himself available to help her cart water for the garden or join her during her chores.  On the Sabbath, he walked her to meeting.  At celebrations, he remained close, ready to lend a hand or a sympathetic ear.  The other young men of Plymouth, if they harbored any desire to court Mary Chilton, soon despaired.  It was clear John Winslow would not relinquish his place; his age and his prominence also dissuaded competition.  Over time, his constant attentions and companionship bore fruit, and Mary began to view him as inseparable from her day-to-day life and hope that he might always be a part of it.  The elders watched with approval.  Mary was universally liked, yet many had worried about her future.  Thus, the community overlooked her youth, reasoning that the advantages of securing her future far outweighed the need to wait until she reached the more traditional marital age.  John Winslow, so the thinking went, more than representing a merely acceptable suitor, was the perfect antidote to the losses Mary had experienced.  He was almost 10 years older, and while not a Saint, he was mature, kind, and stable. He was also well off.  He could offer her stability and freedom from financial wont.

 

 

[i] Now Weymouth, Massachusetts.
[ii] This account is from Edward Winslow's Good Newes from New England, written contemporaneously with the events.
[iii] Our knowledge of these events comes solely from the writings of the Pilgrims and therefore may not be 100% objective or definitive.
[iv] The Leiden Separatists described themselves as "Saints" and called the non-Separatists that came with them "Strangers."

 

Thirteen

The Buy-Out

 

Despite their recent successes, the Saints still fretted about the lack of financial control over their endeavors.   Because they were required to satisfy their debts to the Merchant Adventurers, they had less time to devote to activities necessary for their own survival and comfort.  Last minute negotiations in London between the Merchant Adventurers, anxious to squeeze every farthing out of the Pilgrims, and the Speedwell's lack of seaworthiness, caused a delay that prevented the Pilgrims from planting the seeds necessary to ensure a spring crop in 1621.   In subsequent years, the Merchant Adventurers sent inadequately provisioned ships, and with the arrival of each one of these, the Pilgrims had to dip into their own supplies to provide for the new arrivals.   Then the "lone wolf" Adventurer did the same with the group bound for Wessagusset, sending a huge group of young men with almost no provisions, all of whom had to be fed and housed through the winter.  From an financial perspective, the Merchant Adventurers had committed the classic mistake of underfunding their investment and yet insisting that the investment return outsized profits to the investors.  Their other mistake was in failing to recognize that the Pilgrims might place greater importance on activities that would ensure their own survival rather than on commercial activities designed to return profit to investors back in Old England.

 

Despite this, the Pilgrims tried in good faith to focus on the commercial activities that would return the Merchant Adventurers' investments.  Unfortunately, they were unable to achieve sufficient success to meaningfully impact their growing debt to the investors.  Harvests, while successful thanks to Native advice and Pilgrim diligence, were still limited in quantity due to the short growing season and the rockiness of the soil and did not produce great quantities of shippable foods.  The Pilgrims' fishing trade, with several fishing outposts scattered along the coast as far north as Penobscot, faced competition from outsiders.  The fur and lumber trades were successful on New England soil, but upon the Atlantic they were vulnerable to loss from privateers, pirates, and storms, so the timber and fur that arrived in England failed to eradicate the debt.

 

Management of colony affairs rested in a "Council" consisting of the Governor and his Assistants.  While the names of the Assistants elected in 1624 were not recorded, Richard Warren is thought to have been among them.  These men performed the executive, legislative, and judiciary functions of government.  Their goals included establishing a self-sustaining farming economy, strong fishing, hunting, and boatbuilding trades, and a salt-works.  To this end a salt-maker was engaged and arrived in Plymouth on the Charity along with the first cattle in the Colony.  As the colonists became less dependent upon supplies from England for their survival, they strove to increase productivity both for their own financial comfort and to repay the Merchant Adventurers.  It was, however, too little too late, and the patience of the investors, who had sustained heavy losses in ships and supplies and had yet to recoup any of their investment, reached the breaking point.  Stoking the fires, many Strangers complained that the Saints ignored their needs and desires.  They further complained that the water was not good, that education was lacking, that the mosquitos were fierce, and that religious services were inadequate (a somewhat disingenuous complaint given that the Strangers were not known for their piety.)[i] 

 

Relations between Adventurers and Pilgrims suffered further when the Little James, loaded with fish and beaver, was taken by pirates and her cargo and crew sold off in Salé (now part of Morocco) the latter on the slave market.  The profits from the current season, meant to pay off much of the debt owed to the Adventurers, were completely lost.  In 1625, the Charity returned to New England with news of bankruptcies among the Adventurers and plague in London, further undermining the bonds between Saints and Adventurers. 

 

The Saints began to fear the Adventurers would completely withdraw their financial support, leaving the remainder of the Leiden congregation to fend for itself in Holland.  Among those left behind, were the Saints' Pastor, Mr. Robinson, and Roger and Isabella (Chilton) Chandler, Mary Chilton's brother-in-law and sister, and young Thomas Willett, a Separatist youth of great promise.  The Saints fervently wished to bring their kin to Plymouth.

 

Soldiering on, the Pilgrims sent another cargo of beaver pelts to London.  Somewhat appeased but still anxious to escape the Plymouth money pit, in 1626 the 42 remaining Adventurers offered the Pilgrims a proposition: in return for £1,800[ii], to be paid in installments, they would release their rights in the Colony.  This was an enormous sum for the 180 Plymouth settlers, but they agreed, and ownership of Plymouth Colony officially passed to 58 "Purchasers" (53 Plymouth Colony settlers and 5 London investors).   Ancestors William Brewster, Francis Cooke, Richard Warren, John Winslow, Stephen Tracy, Joshua Pratt, Experience Mitchell, Robert Hicks, John Jenney, and Adventurer William Collier were among the Purchasers.

 

Ultimately, 12 men (eight Pilgrims including Elder Brewster and four Adventurers) agreed to underwrite the debt in return for certain privileges in the Colony's commercial activities.  Having undertaken to pay the debt, they were called "Undertakers".  The commercial privileges included a 6-year trade monopoly in New England and abroad and annual payments of specified quantities of corn or tobacco from the Purchasers.  After the six years all rights and privileges would revert to the Purchasers. 

 

The Undertakers had to then decide how to allocate the land, buildings, cattle, and other goods that had been built, acquired, or cultivated in the Colony during the prior seven years.  Some Undertakers (likely the London investors) thought that they, having assumed the Colony's early financial risks, should reap the greatest rewards.  The Plymouth Undertakers, however, would continue to live in Plymouth after the ink dried, and they feared fostering ill will and eroding community bonds.  Some Undertakers suggested a "worthiness" argument, under which worthier residents would reap greater benefits.  Those deemed unworthy – perhaps because they seemed less godly, or worked less enthusiastically, or simply were not up to snuff in some other way - would be denied the rights to property distributions. 

 

These were thorny questions.  Everyone had a stake in the outcome, and the innate impulse to take care of oneself and one's family must have been as powerful then as it is today.  Further complications arose because many structures, including individual homesteads, had been built communally and many fields planted the same way.  How would these be divvied up?  After much prayer and consideration, Elder Brewster added his voice to those calling for a universal and balanced distribution of the "stocks, shares, lands, merchandise, and chattles" of Plymouth Colony.

"Each one of us, young and old, man and woman," he argued, "has worked and suffered to build our Colony; therefore, we should share equally in her bounty.  Let us not allow greed or some wrongful notion of individual worthiness to come between us.  We shall be stronger if we acknowledge all contributions equally rather than attempt to parse out who among us deserves more or less, who has worked harder or less hard, what occupations and services are more or less deserving of recompense.  God would wish the goodwill among us to be preserved, and he would most certainly disapprove any scheme that would leave anyone without estate and at the mercy of others." 

 

To their credit, the Undertakers, faced with the opportunity to make a large land-grab and little likelihood of reprisal from their sovereign King Charles, reached an agreement that honored most of Elder Brewster's ideas.  They agreed as follows: the houses built by community effort, along with their adjacent garden plots, would remain in the hands of the inhabiting family.  Since some of the houses and lots were "better" than others, men receiving those better allocations would compensate anyone receiving inferior homes and parcels.  Some men were exempted from this requirement in recompense for unpaid services to the Colony.  Twenty-acre farm lots along the Town Brook and the livestock were likewise assessed for "goodness" and allotted as evenly as possible to each man, woman, and child, with the requirement that those who received farms closer to the town would allow those with more distant property to share their fields for a period of four years. Looking to the future, the Pilgrims decided to withhold a great deal of farmland, meadowland, and swampland for future distribution to new settlers.

 

All told, 156 of the 180 residents of Plymouth Colony received shares in the distribution.  After seven years of struggling to carve a life from the New England wilderness while sending excess benefits back to Old England, the Pilgrims ended 1627 beholden only to themselves.  Having achieved financial independence, they could focus on administering the Colony.

 

Fourteen

Wedding Plans

 

When John Winslow finally declared his intentions, Mary Chilton was ready, both in age and attitude.  Mary had matured rapidly.  The privation of the first years, including limitations on necessities such as food and shelter tested the Plymouth children.  In Mary's case, it made her stronger, more appreciative of the positive things that happened and more proactive in seeking her own good fortune.  The gardens she planted, full of healing plants and healthful vegetables, and her desire to both honor her mother's memory and to benefit the community provided a focus for her days and lessened the pain of loneliness.  Strength of will enabled her to accept Plymouth's thrills and challenges. 

 

That strength of will, however, did not compensate for the lack of a mother's guidance when navigating the course of love, courtship, and marriage preparations.  Luckily, Mary Brewster, Hester Cooke, and Elizabeth Warren, three Pilgrim matrons of unimpeachable morals who had enjoyed long, successful marriages, stepped in. 

 

In the 1600's, marriage contracts were not uncommon, and while women's rights were few, a typical contract might ensure that a woman had a right to housing and sufficient income from the husband's estate after his death, as well as preserve her rights to any valuables she had brought to the marriage.  Mary's father, James, inherited a good estate from his father, which passed to Mary upon her parents' deaths.  Thus, she likely brought personal wealth to her marriage, including James' tailoring equipment, clothing, household items such as linens, cutlery, pots and pans, some furniture, and perhaps even books.  There was also the 3-acre lot granted to her in 1623.  Mary Brewster and Elizabeth Warren, women of means from prominent families, ensured that Mary's rights and interests were contractually protected.  Of course, it helped, these two ladies acknowledged, that John was hopelessly in love and not a greedy man in any case. 

 

Hester Cooke provided Mary with domestic guidance necessary to manage a household.  Mary's mother had taught her to sew, spin wool, and knit, how to cook meat and vegetables and bake bread, and to make candles and soap, and butter and cheese, along with other household chores.  Hester taught Mary colonial skills such as how to grind corn, barley, and wheat into flour, how to cook outdoors, and how to dry fish.  She taught Mary how to use herbs to improve the taste of cooked foods.

 

For his part, John wished his parents could meet Mary and have some idea of her character and physical appearance.  Lacking any image to send, John wrote a long, thoughtful letter describing Mary and their courtship.  In concluding, John wrote, "She is everything that I would wish in a life-mate.  She has strength of will and character that is worthy of respect.  If you could see the fire and determination in her eyes, I know you would come to love her as I do.  She is good and kind and earns the appreciation of all who know her.  And although our religion asks me to remain silent as to her physical appearance, I must confess that I find her a most beautiful woman."  

 

Mary shared the excitement of new love with her friends Jane Cooke and Mary Warren.  The three girls were similar in age, and all three basked in some stage of courtship, although Mary was first to become betrothed. 

 

Mary was the first of the "Mayflower children" to marry, and everyone in Plymouth recognized this milestone in the tiny settlement's history, and all determined to enjoy it. 

On her wedding day, Mary dressed with the help of her mentors and best friends.  Laughing and raising her arms, she allowed them to drop a sheer linen shift over her head.  They next positioned and tied the stays that served to smooth a woman's form (albeit unnecessary on Mary's lithe frame).  Then came stockings and a petticoat, and then her best bodice and waistcoat.  Mary deliberated much on which of these to wear as she wanted to look her best for John.  Finally, heeding her friends' advice, she chose her bright blue waistcoat, which brought out the color of her eyes, a cream-colored bodice, and a dark brown wool petticoat.  If the day became too warm, she could remove her waistcoat and still look quite nice in her bodice, she thought.  Having slipped into her shoes, she added final touches: a fine lace collar inherited from her mother, and a dainty wreath of fresh flowers for her hair, pulled back into a neat chignon.

 

John, too, chose his outfit with care, although he had fewer adornments and less color.  Over his light-colored linen shirt, he donned a lightweight brown woolen doublet and breeches.  His stockings were a lighter brown and matched his flat collar.  He left his head bare, displaying his thick brown hair, recently trimmed.

 

Governor Bradford, a dedicated Saint, fine administrator, and meticulous chronicler of Plymouth events, who often sprinkled those chronicles with acerbic descriptions of both friends and enemies, presided over the brief ceremony.  Once the formalities were over, the vows made and witnessed, and the documents signed, the Governor threw himself into the festivities, eating and drinking and even joining in a simple dance or two.  As the afternoon progressed, the Governor, normally a sober and reserved man who had nonetheless enjoyed his share of beer that day, suddenly rose and said, "Friends, it occurs to me that this would be a fine time to share with you an account told me by our recent visitor, Mr. de Rasieres, of New Netherland.  As you recall, while here he introduced us to the currency used by the Natives that dwell between Plymouth and New Netherland.  Their currency is known as sewan or wampum, and it is used for trade.[iii]  At the time of his visit, the esteemed gentleman relayed a curious anecdote regarding other uses of sewan that I think appropriate for an occasion such as this."

 

John and Mary looked at one another uncertainly.  They had never seen the Governor in his current state, and they wondered if this might be the one time the honorable gentleman allowed his conduct to slip to hitherto unheard-of lows. 

 

"It seems," the Governor continued, "that among the Natives of New Netherland, when a man decides to marry and has chosen a lass, he collects a great quantity of sewan, which he presents to her and her closest friends during an Asking Ceremony.  If all agree the man is acceptable, negotiations ensue, with the objective of arriving at an appropriate quantity of sewan for a bridal present, often a much greater quantity than that which he brought to the Asking Ceremony.  After the negotiations the man leaves gifts and trinkets and departs for 6 weeks to hunt and collect more wampum.  During his absence, if the girl is a maiden, she sits under a blanket and loudly proclaims her virginity to all and sundry.  When the man returns, friends and family feast with the couple, there is much singing and dancing.  Later in the evening," he continued…

 

Suddenly, his wife, whose complexion had turned quite pink, snatched the Governor's hand and tugged.  Smiling sweetly, she gazed upward, her eyes telling him that he must end the story immediately or face her wrath later. 

 

Smiling mischievously, the Governor concluded, "And that is all that needs to be told about the courting ways of the Natives of New Netherland."

 

With that he took his seat, and the guests let loose a collective sigh.  John's brother, Edward, clearly relieved that the anecdote had ended without any indiscretions, quickly cried out, "To John and Mary, whose marriage I am sure will be loving and fruitful, even without wampum, singing, and dancing!"

 

Despite the Governor's overly enthusiastic performance, Plymouth festivities tended to be muted.  The reasons for this were twofold.  First, the Saints avoided public drunkenness.  Second, the settlers could not lower their guard even on a day of celebration.  While Plymouth lived peacefully with neighboring tribes, they knew that these same tribes frequently bickered among themselves.  Worse, they had heard fearful tales of the Mohawk, so-called "Man-eaters", known for their war-like ways and willingness to wreak havoc far and wide.  Wearing long coats as armor against arrows and wielding only clubs, their warriors were widely feared.  While the Mohawk had not come near Plymouth in the first years of its existence, the settlers took few chances with their hard-won lands and security.  The men kept their muskets and flintlocks at hand, and the watchtower was manned even during wedding celebrations. 

 

As the festivities wound down, John and Mary slipped off to their new home to enjoy their first night together as man and wife.  While many Anglicans in England followed the raucous tradition of the festive bedding, whereby various friends accompanied the newly married couple to their chamber amid much joking and singing before leaving them alone for the night, the Pilgrims, more reserved than other English Protestants, forsook this old tradition, much to Mary's relief.  The following morning, the young couple returned to normal life, making some small adjustments for their married state, but in the main slipping back into their pre-marital chores and customs.

 

Fifteen

Transition Years: 1628-1630

 

Plymouth survived its first precarious years, and life began to resemble that of any small village anywhere.  The Pilgrims surmounted incredible challenges: they suffered the loss of half of their initial group, husbands, wives, mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, and children; they overcame two grueling years of near starvation; they built a secure town with comfortable homes and neat gardens; they forged an uneasy peace with local tribes; they carved productive farmland from rocky soil manageable only with hoe and spade rather than the more efficient plow; and finally they settled accounts with the Merchant Adventurers.  Their little corner of the world was secure, and it was this condition that made marriage and starting families a viable option for everyone.

 

After John and Mary wed, several other couples married and started families.  Experience Mitchell married Jane Cooke; Robert Bartlett married Mary Warren; and Joshua Pratt married a young woman named Bathsheba.[iv]  To help the newlyweds establish their households, the Colony granted additional land to the Purchasers who then parceled these out to their children.  

 

Immigrants trickled into Plymouth throughout the late 1620's.  In 1629 and 1630, more Separatists boarded a second Mayflower and the Lyon in Leiden and sailed to Plymouth.[v]   To Mary (Chilton) Warren's great joy, the newcomers included her sister Isabella and Isabella's husband, Roger Chandler. The Talbot arrived with servants sent from London.  The Handmaid hobbled into Plymouth in 1630 having lost all her masts.  She carried an additional 60 Leiden-based Separatists, whose names have not been preserved, possibly because they were considered a "weak and poor" group of Saints.  

 

Notable among the Leiden arrivals was Thomas Willett, who soon became indispensable to Plymouth, and went onto much greater renown outside of the Colony, eventually becoming the first English Mayor of New York.  Thomas immigrated in his twentieth year.  A tall young man, handsome, yet serious, with an engaging manner that inspired both respect and trust, he quickly assumed important roles.  The first step along this path must have seemed daunting, but Thomas stoically performed his assigned responsibilities.

 

One September morning, Governor Bradford summoned Thomas.  Pausing at the gate to the Governor's comfortable home, set back from the street and with a fine garden out front, Thomas glanced eastward.  Below him lay the town of Plymouth, with its vastly improved houses, neat fences, and spectacular view of the bay.  Where the land met the sea, a few fishing vessels gently swayed along the small wharf, from which a pier jutted into the bay, ready to receive larger vessels.  To the north and south, beyond the beaches of Plymouth itself, small sandy spits of land covered with earth-hugging shrubbery and trees broke the line of tranquil bay waters.  Thomas breathed in the salty ocean breeze and smiled, felling truly blessed.

 

Greeting Thomas at the door and ushering him into the parlor, Governor Bradford wasted little time in getting to the point.

 

"Thomas," he began, "as you know, we have a trading post to the north on the Kennebec River.  Recently, another post was established north of it at the Penobscot River.  This latter post is managed by Edward Ashley, and at the request of our London associates, we have partnered with him.  The Penobscot post bears strategic importance as it protects our trade at Kennebec, and it has commercial opportunities of its own.   Nonetheless, I harbor grave doubts about Ashley.  Not about his business acumen - he seems quite shrewd," Bradford added hastily, "but rather about his character and loyalty.  As to character, he has provided a bond of £500 to back his promises to not mix with Native women and to refrain from selling gunpowder to the men, but we fear the bond will not suffice to control him.  He is considered a profane young man, with little interest in our traditions and beliefs.  As to loyalty, he spends much time with the Natives, learning their language and even running naked among them." 

 

Bradford added, "In fairness, we know not what influence these things may have on his trustworthiness and industry, but we would be much comforted if you would become our agent at Penobscot.  You would be compensated, and you would have our deepest gratitude."

 

Thomas quickly grasped the advantage of agreeing to the Governor's request.  Goodness, he thought, this comes most unexpectedly and seems a likely opportunity.  Aloud, however, he protested, "But Sir, I am newly arrived here in Plymouth; I cannot imagine that I am the person best suited to manage this situation.  I know nothing of this place, of friends and foes, of the particulars of local trade and commerce.  Also, I may not be able to control Ashley.  Is there not another who could better serve the Colony?"

 

Pleased with Thomas' humility and logic, the Governor replied, "It is precisely your fresh eye that is needed here along with your sense for business, your trustworthiness, and above all, your discretion.  As Ashley has our London partners' backing, we cannot use a heavy hand.  Furthermore, having recently arrived here, your ability to observe the situation without prejudice is unique.  Thomas, we've known you since you were a child, and none of us doubts your ability to manage this.  Our Leiden friends have reported favorably on your progress throughout the years, and we are confident that while lacking in years, your abilities greatly exceed those of most men." 

 

Thomas accepted the Penobscot duty.  His one regret lay in having to part immediately for the hinterlands rather than enjoying the company of the larger Pilgrim community that had been denied him for nine years while he waited in Leiden. Nonetheless, setting his mind to the task, some days later he cheerfully boarded the Pilgrim shallop to traverse the 175 miles to Penobscot Bay. 

The Pilgrims' fears about Ashley were well founded.  Eventually he was arrested for selling arms to the Indians, as well as some other "evil practices" and was sent back to England, leaving Thomas in charge of the trading post.  And so began Thomas Willett's North American career.

 

Sixteen

Immigration Stalls, Sealing Plymouth's Fate as an Independent Colony

 

Several factors converged to limit Plymouth's growth and seal her future fate.  First, with the successful conclusion of the buyout in 1626, the Colony began to allot larger plots of land to residents.  In 1627, the Colony granted lots along the shore where the towns of Plymouth, Kingston, Duxbury, and Marshfield lie.   As Pilgrims relocated to their new, larger farms, their time and energy went to establishing these towns drawing attention away from Plymouth town. 

 

Second, bringing over the remaining Leiden congregants was costly.  It increased the Undertakers' debt by about 25%.  This hamstrung the wealthiest colonists, who could no longer invest in infrastructure and industries that would enable Plymouth to thrive.  It also antagonized the Strangers.  They saw little reason to fund the immigration of Leiden congregants, and they demanded to be relieved of their obligation to pay.  This was not what they expected when they signed the Mayflower Compact, they argued.

 

Third, Plymouth's physical location was even more detrimental to its future than its debts.  The Colony lacked the attributes that would enable it to become either a great commercial center or an agricultural powerhouse.  Its harbor was too small and shallow to accommodate the number and variety of ships that would expect to dock at a major international trading center.  Nor were there large rivers nearby to support domestic trade within the North American continent.  Finally, the famously rocky soil was pitifully poor and could support only small agricultural production. 

 

High debt and meager prospects, combined with the limited appeal of Separatist religious practice, ensured that Plymouth Colony would remain a small outpost in New England.  Despite this, Plymouth Colony retained importance for European immigration.  Plymouth, a community of fewer than 55 starving, homeless, and weakened immigrants in 1621, survived devastating winters, poor crops, disease, death, and terrifying loneliness and despair.  Now, a decade later, she was a self-sufficient community of 350-400 settlers that provided clear evidence that New England settlement was viable.

 

Immigration to Plymouth effectively ceased in 1630.  The Colony grew no more except through childbirth.  With her population effectively capped, Plymouth was soon eclipsed by large waves of colonists with larger ambitions for the New World. 

 

[i] In responding to these complaints Governor Bradford scornfully responded that anyone who couldn't bear the bite of a mosquito was certainly not fit to plant a new colony and should stay home until they found themselves to be mosquito-proof!
[ii] About $440,000 in 2020 per https://www.uwyo.edu/numimage/currency.htm.
[iii] This currency took the form of beads made from pieces of quahog and periwinkle shells, either unstrung or strung into belts.  They were worn in necklaces, bracelets, and other adornments.  Wampum became a great trade facilitator as it was in high demand among the Indians, and it was the introduction to this new currency that enabled the Pilgrims to finally develop a more robust fur trade and pay off the last of their debts.
[iv] Early New England records are incomplete, and ship manifests were nonexistent.  Often a woman's maiden name, her first name, and/or even the names of children did not appear.  In these cases, we can only refer to a person as "Mrs. Chilton" or "Bathsheba (Unknown)."
[v] This was not the second journey of the Mayflower of 1620 as many people assume.  This was an entirely different ship.  As many as 26 ships with the name Mayflower were registered in England during the first half of the 17th century.

 

PART THREE

The Second Wave of Immigration 1630-1640 

 

Continuing Religious, Political, and Economic Strife in England

 

Massachusetts Bay Colony, settled by English Puritans, was the second successful colony established in New England.  Like the Saints, mainstream English Puritans believed the Church of England needed reforming.  Unlike the Saints, Puritans believed the necessary changes could be wrought from within.  For this reason, they remained in England long after the Separatists fled to Leiden.  Puritans objected to the Church of England's hierarchical structure, the use of vestments and candles, "excessive preaching," and use of the Book of Common Prayer during church services, which they believed embodied mere rote worship rather than heartfelt communion with God.  By the late 1620's, they too decided to emigrate. 

 

During the 1620's Puritan life in England deteriorated, reaching a nadir under King Charles I, a particularly authoritarian monarch who bickered nonstop with Parliament, especially the House of Commons, which Puritans dominated.  Charles supported the High Anglican (traditional) form of Protestant worship and, confident in his divine right to govern his subjects' political and religious lives, he perceived any variations in religious theory or practice as direct threats to the monarchy.  Puritan refusal to wear church vestments and to swear certain oaths, their refusal to teach aspects of Church of England doctrine that they considered "popish", and their ongoing criticism of the Church of England for its failure to embrace the concepts of the Protestant Reformation were direct affronts that Charles believed must be punished.  He began an unrelenting persecution of Puritans, driving them first underground in England, then abroad to Holland, and ultimately across the ocean. 

 

Economic Considerations

 

While religious strife influenced many Puritans to flee England, the opportunity for financial gain also played a large part in colonization.  Europeans recognized that the North American continent was rich with exploitable resources.  Hundreds of European fishing boats travelled to New England every year, and many merchants sent ships to purchase animal pelts and other items from Native Americans.  During the 1620's several English organizations promoted New England settlement.  Reverend John White, a Puritan minister from Dorchester played a large role in promoting emigration.  While he never moved to New England, he was active in most attempts to establish a Puritan refuge there.

 

These organizations were not necessarily benevolent; often set up as joint-stock companies, they sought profit from New England.  Like the Merchant Adventurers, investors paid for settlers' passage to New England and for sufficient provisions and supplies to survive the first year or two.   In return, settlers agreed to provide financial returns by sending trade goods back to England.  The joint-stock companies obtained royal charters authorizing them to operate in the New World. 

 

The first company to attempt settlement in the region that would become Massachusetts Bay Colony was the Dorchester Company, led by Reverend White and merchants from Dorchester, England.  The Dorchester Company planned to fish New England's coastal waters, but in a more profitable way than in the past.  Traditionally, European companies sent ships manned with crew and fishermen back and forth across the Atlantic every summer.  The Dorchester Company's novel idea was to leave the fishermen in New England to establish a fishing colony over the winter.  This had two obvious advantages.  First, the space that would have been occupied by fishermen on the return trip could be used to transport more fish.  Second, the fishermen who remained behind could engage in additional productive activities such as building out settlements, planting crops, trapping beavers and other animals, and curing fish, all to benefit the investment company.

In 1623 the Dorchester Company sent its first ship, the Fellowship, bound for Cape Ann on the northernmost part of Massachusetts Bay.  In addition to crew, 14 fishermen and other settlers who planned to establish a fishing colony were aboard.  The Fellowship arrived too late in the season to obtain a successful catch, and over the winter the settlers failed to establish a self-supporting community with a robust agricultural system or a thriving trade.   The Dorchester Company sent additional expeditions in 1624 and 1625, but they also failed rather spectacularly, and the company was dissolved causing the investors significant financial loss.  The Cape Ann settlement ultimately failed, and the settlers either returned to England or moved, hoping to find better agricultural lands.  Those who remained moved about 17 miles southwest and founded Naumkeag in 1626. 

 

Meanwhile, the New England Company was established by patent in 1628 to further the dual goals of establishing profitable trade with the New World and providing a religious haven for Puritan Nonconformists.   The New England Company sent 30-40 colonists to Naumkeag on the Abigail with John Endecott to serve as Governor.  Soon thereafter, the settlement was renamed Salem.

 

In 1629, the New England Company merged into the Massachusetts Bay Company, named after the Native Americans that inhabited the region.  The Massachusetts Bay Company obtained a royal charter to trade in New England and to establish the Massachusetts Bay Colony in an area beginning three miles south of the Charles River and extending three miles north of the Merrimack River.  It included the small settlement at Salem. 

 

Also in 1629, after twice dissolving Parliament, King Charles I finally abolished it altogether, making himself the sole governmental authority in England, Scotland, and Ireland.  In so doing, he not only undermined the governmental check on the monarchy that Parliament provided, he also eliminated the Puritan's primary forum for defending their cause.  This spurred many Puritans to consider fleeing England, and several prominent Puritans organized a meeting in Sempringham, Lincolnshire to discuss the future of the Puritan movement in England.  The outcome of this meeting would set the course for the Great Migration.[i]

[i] Coincidentally, another mass displacement of people called "The Great Migration" occurred in the United States in the 20th century when 6 million African Americans moved from the rural south to the urban north. 

The Great Migration 1630-1640

 

The following stories describe the second wave of English immigration to New England.  Unlike Pilgrim immigration, which never grew beyond a trickle, the 1630-1640 migration resembled a tidal wave.  Over 10 years, the European population in New England more than quadrupled.  New immigrants differed from their Pilgrim predecessors in many ways.  They were somewhat less tolerant and somewhat more arrogant, generally better connected, both amongst themselves and with powerful people back in England, and they envisioned a European-style nation state existence.   These Puritans sought to establish a theocratic state wherein all could live in harmony…provided no one strayed from the state's idea of what harmony looked like.

 

The stories demonstrate the initial success the Puritans had in organizing themselves into a tight-knit, colonial power, and even as control began to slip away from the first Puritan settlers, the larger group was able to consolidate its hold on the New England landscape.  These are stories of vision, statesmanship, politics, power, and brutality, and they laid the foundation of the country we know today. 

 

Seventeen

The Meeting at Sempringham

"Have they arrived?"

 

"Yes, just, milord.  Mr. Winthrop requests your indulgence.  His horse led him into a spring bog, and he asks for time to change his attire prior to joining you and the others."

"Of course, Andrew.  Tell him to come when he is ready."  Turning away from his manservant, Theophilus Clinton Fiennes, 4th Earl of Lincoln, strode across the Great Hall of Tattershall Castle toward the dais where several plainly dressed men stood.

 

"Gentlemen," he said, "Winthrop and Downing have arrived and will join us shortly.  I take this opportunity to thank you for your presence, in particular Reverend Cotton, who has come despite suffering ailments that would normally keep him nearer to home, and Reverend Hooker, who recently fled his home and parish to escape the continued harassment of Bishop Laud and his ilk.  On this latter point, I beg discretion from all attending, as Reverend Hooker's presence here today must not be known outside these walls.  I believe you are all acquainted, by reputation if not by face.  Nonetheless, I will call a roll."  

 

"On this day of Our Lord, in June of the year 1629 are here present: Thomas Dudley, Bailiff of Lincolnshire; Mr. Simon Bradstreet of Lincoln; Reverend Thomas Hooker, recently of Chelmsford Cathedral; Reverend John Davenport of London; Richard Bellingham, Recorder of Boston; Reverend Roger Williams of Essex; Mr. Isaac Johnson of Lincoln; Mr. John Humphrey of Dorset; Mr. Thomas Leverett of Lincolnshire; Mr. Atherton Hough of Boston; Reverend John Cotton of Boston; Master Hooper; and Reverend John White of Dorchester."

 

Just then, John Winthrop and his brother-in-law, Emanuel Downing, joined the group.  The men, respected barristers in London and staunch Puritans who feared for England's future after Parliament was dissolved, came to Sempringham to learn more about the Massachusetts Bay Company's efforts to establish a New England colony.

 

"Friends," continued the Earl, "we meet today to discuss the establishment of a new colony across the seas.  You are here to provide counsel such that this new colony might grow more quickly and vigorously than the colonies of the Dorchester and Plymouth Companies, whose settlers have borne grievous and near insurmountable losses.  Many believe that the chances of success will increase proportionately with a like increase in the number and skills of the members of the new colony.  The group here gathered must settle several questions.  First, who shall lead the new colony?  Second, whither to establish said colony, the current proposals being New England or the West India Islands.  Third, to form a committee to establish the most propitious steps to guarantee success.  We have present the esteemed Reverend White, who has served as visionary and instigator behind much prior emigration, and I cede the floor to him that he may opine on these matters."

 

Fearing that the enthusiastic Reverend White might gloss over the rumors of death and hardship that had beset previous colonists, John Winthrop interrupted in a calm, authoritative voice.  "Thank you, Lord Lincoln.  I might suggest that, prior to delving into these questions, we should examine more closely the experiences of the Jamestown, Naumkeag, and Plymouth settlements.  Such an examination might, by example, prompt us to arrive at the most suitable plan. 

 

"Here, here," and "Yes, indeed, a fine idea," murmured the men.  All turned their focus to Reverend John White, an average-sized man in his early fifties with piercing eyes and a persuasive manner.

Reverend White began, "Thank you, Lord Lincoln and Mr. Winthrop.  I will begin with a summary of the legal basis and plan for the colonization of the new continent so that those present are united in their understanding of the progress of this affair; I know much will be known to you already and hence apologize for any repetition.  Subsequently, I will briefly mention the differences between the northern and southern colonies." 

 

"In the year 1606, our sovereign lord King James granted charters for the Virginia Company of London and the Virginia Company of Plymouth.  Both were privately funded joint-stock companies, and their purpose was to provide investment returns through trade and farming and to claim land for England by establishing permanent settlements abroad.  In 1607, the Virginia Company of London established the colony of Jamestown in that region of the new continent known as Virginia.  In 1620, settlers funded by the Virginia Company of Plymouth found the region just south of the Massachusetts Bay, known as Cape Cod Bay, much to their liking and established themselves there, thus invalidating their original charter.  King James replaced the invalid charter with a new charter for the Plymouth Council for New England, thus ensuring the legality of the settlement at Plymouth.  Subsequently, the Plymouth Council for New England established a second settlement north of Plymouth under the auspices of the Dorchester Company, a joint-stock company with both profit-making and land settlement goals.  However, this settlement soon ran into financial difficulties and sought additional investors for the purpose of establishing an independent colony.  We acquired funding in London and a land grant from the New England Council.  This grant was made to the Dorchester Company's successor, the New England Company for a Plantation in Massachusetts Bay.  It encompasses all the land between the Charles and the Merrimack Rivers and extends from the Atlantic Ocean to the west.  The settlement at Salem, previously known by its native name, Naumkeag, is included in the new grant."

 

"We believe there are about 350-400 settlers at Plymouth Colony under Governor William Bradford and perhaps 340 settlers at Salem under John Endecott.  There are also some scattered settlers, the remnants of the failed settlements of Popham and Wessagusset.  These settlers consist primarily of dissenters like ourselves, although some could be more aptly described as having no particular religious interest but rather an interest in living in a less conventional society."

 

"In addition to the northern colonies, some 2,500 settlers inhabit Jamestown.  The Jamestown settlement was preceded by a previous failed colonization attempt at Roanoke.  Through many advances and setbacks, Jamestown settlement might now be considered fairly mature and successful.  Its initial experience, however, was full of misfortune, and in fact between the years 1609 and 1610, known as the 'starving time,' Jamestown lost over 400 of her 500 settlers."

 

"Significant differences exist between Jamestown and the northern colonies.  First there is the land itself.  Jamestown is located on a peninsula with good farming soil but is home to mosquitoes, swampland, and brackish water.  The climate is milder with warmer winters and a longer growing season.  New England has good farmland, albeit requiring significant effort to rid it of rocks to render it suitable for farming.  However, the development of large and profitable farms is unlikely, and other economic endeavors will need to be developed.  Its air and water are pure and clean.  Both Plymouth and Jamestown were settled after the crop-planting season, and if I were to point out one item which greatly reduced the odds of survival in the first winter, it would be this."

"Second the settlers differed greatly in character.  The Jamestown settlers were young men, many with aristocratic backgrounds, with little experience or practical knowledge of farming or any of the other skills required to support a successful settlement.  They were excessively dependent on English supply deliveries and on the goodwill of the Natives.  Quickly recognizing this deficiency and to their credit, the settlers soon brought in Eastern Europeans who supplied the necessary skills.  The New England settlers had more humble backgrounds, knew how to work, and traveled with their families."

 

"Settlers in Jamestown went hither for economic reasons, and thus differed in intention from the New England settlers whose primary motivation was to escape government-imposed sanctions and privations due to their religious dissent.  I believe these different motivations had some effect on colonization efforts.  It might be that strictly economic motivations fail to garner the enthusiasm that religious fervor does."

 

Reverend White continued speaking for several hours.  When he finished, the group debated the Earl of Lincoln's questions.  In the end, many decided to move themselves and their families to the new colony and to use all their powers of persuasion to encourage men of ability and courage to join them.  In the following weeks, the future colonists began negotiations to purchase a flagship for a planned fleet migration in 1630 and aggressively recruited additional settlers.

 

To their surprise, the company stockholders discovered that their royal charter failed to specify that the company must conduct its main business and hold its corporate meetings in England, which had been a standard requirement in previous charters.  This oversight emboldened the company's leaders to debate whether to move the entire company to the New World.  Ultimately, the Puritan leaders signed the Cambridge Agreement, documenting their resolution to move themselves and their families to New England with the understanding that both the patent for the new plantation and the plantation's government would be legally transferred to New England.  With this act, they effectively transformed a commercial company into a provincial government, without oversight from London investors.  With outrageous audacity, the leaders of the Massachusetts Bay Colony set up a parallel "country-within-a-country" across the ocean and far from the reach of the antagonistic British monarch. 

 

Eighteen

Massachusetts Bay Colony: Salem & Charlestown

 

In 1629, as preparations for the larger migration of 1630 were being finalized, the six-ship Higginson Fleet, carrying between 227-300 settlers, plus cattle, horses, oxen, goats, and rabbits, set sail.  The ships carried ordnance, munitions, oatmeal, peas, and other provisions to support the settlers for one year.  The ships were the George Bonaventure, the Talbot, the Lyon's Whelp, the Mayflower, the Four Sisters, and the Pilgrim.   Only five arrived safely in New England; the sixth, the Pilgrim, was seized off the coast of Canada and relieved of her cargo, whereupon she returned to England.  Three of the ships carried passengers bound for Plymouth, while the rest were destined for the new colony.

 

Thomas Graves sailed with the Fleet. Baptized at Stepney, England, he was now 24, the son of a successful shipwright.  He succumbed to the lure of the sea at a young age, but his interests lay not in building ships but in sailing them.  Having displayed remarkable skill as a seaman as well as a keen ability to lead other men, Thomas was appointed Master's Mate of the Talbot.  His responsibilities included provisioning the ship with food and supplies for the voyage.   Once under sail, he spent his days examining the ship from prow to stern, port to starboard, and below decks to masts.  Every inch of her was his responsibility, and he was anxious to avoid making any mistakes.  A ship was an ever-changing landscape of decks, masts, railings, ropes, sails, and defensive weaponry.  All were subject to the vagaries of sea travel - storms, sun, wind, and motion - and would undergo daily changes, either accidental or purposeful.  As Mate, he must ensure that each element of the ship function properly.  If done properly, this role might convince his superiors that he deserved promotion.  On occasion, he was allowed to take command of the ship when the Master sought respite to study or to sleep.  This temporary transfer of authority only occurred when sunny skies and steady winds prevailed. 

 

Passing safely between the Misery Islands and Baker's Island and observing Salem in the distance, his enthusiasm grew.  Like the great explorer John Smith, who traversed these waters many years before, Thomas felt the draw of the new, the unexplored.  This land, with its mighty forests, vast coastlines, and untamed wilderness presented an almost inescapable pull for a young man, particularly a young Puritan with a thirst for adventure.  Eyes narrowed, he admitted to himself that the settlement looked rather puny.  But as a mariner, he knew little about building a successful agricultural community.  He resolved to devote the days, when he wasn't overseeing the provisioning and repairing of the ship, to exploring Salem and its surroundings.

 

Ultimately, Thomas spent little time in Salem, as duties aboard the Talbot occupied most of his time.  With any luck, he thought, I'll return next summer.  When the Talbot made her return journey to England, Thomas Graves carried with him letters of recommendation from several people, including Reverend Higginson who had come to appreciate Thomas's thoughtful manner and calm disposition.  Regarding his maritime knowledge, the reverend had been most impressed, and his letters recommended the young man to the Massachusetts Bay Company both for his knowledge of ships and shipbuilding and for his skills aboard an ocean-going vessel.

 

Thomas returned the next summer, and he retraced the same route many times over the following years before making New England his permanent home in 1639.   He never gave up his passion for the sea, however, and continued to sail, attaining the rank of Master, making his first voyage as such aboard the Whale in 1632.  As Master of the Trial, the first ship built in New England, he sailed to Bilbao, Spain with a cargo of fish, and returned with a hold full of wine, fruit, oil, iron, and wool, a cargo much appreciated by New Englanders.

 

After capturing a Dutch privateer during a trade war between England and The Netherlands, Thomas received a British naval commission in 1652.  His military career ended abruptly in 1653 at the Battle of Scheveningen when Dutch fireships attacked his ship, the Andrew, and he burned to death.[i]  He died a Rear Admiral in the English Navy.  In his honor, Massachusetts named the line of ledges lying outside of Boston Harbor "The Graves".   When the lighthouse that sits atop one of the ledges was completed in 1905, it was named "Graves Light."   Thomas' wife, Katherine, outlived him by almost 30 years and during that period never remarried, which evidenced both her strength of character and her financial stability, for in those days, most widowed people married quickly in order to bolster one or the other of these conditions.  Katherine bore Thomas seven children, six of whom survived to adulthood.  By the time of Thomas' death, his daughter Rebecca had married Samuel Adams, brother to John Adams whose descendants would become Presidents of the young United States of America. 

 

Eighteen-year-old William Sprague also sailed with the Higginson Fleet.  William travelled with his two older brothers, Ralph and Richard, possibly aboard the Lyon's Whelp.[ii]  The brothers came to New England seeking adventure so when Governor Endecott proposed sending an advance party to scout for a suitable settlement spot for the thousand or so immigrants that would be arriving with the Winthrop Fleet in 1630, the brothers volunteered.   An engineer[iii] accompanied the Spragues to help select an appropriate site and lay out the new town. 

 

Leaving Salem and travelling southwesterly along the New England coast, crossing marshes and inlets, craggy coastlines and patches of dense forest, the party searched for the characteristics necessary for successful coastal settlement: a deep, protected harbor, a fair amount of open, arable land, and proximity to fresh water.  Arriving at a protected peninsula about 12 miles southwest of Salem and well within a large, navigable harbor (Boston Harbor), bordered on the south by the Charles River and on the north by the Mystic River, they felt they had found the perfect settlement location.  The land was well timbered and not yet under cultivation, yet it looked sufficiently fertile.  The Massachusetts, called the area Mishawum, and it fell under the control of Chief John Sagamore.[iv]   When the Spragues and their party arrived, they approached Chief Sagamore and petitioned him for permission to settle there, to which he agreed.  They called their settlement Charlestown.

 

The Spragues discovered that another English settler had arrived in the area before them.  This man, a blacksmith named Walford, lived with his wife and two young children in a small, fortified house with a thatch roof.  Having received John Sagamore's permission to settle upon the land, the Spragues approached Walford.  Taking a more assertive stance with their English compatriot than they had with the Massachusetts, the Puritans claimed the land under their patent rights, explaining that they would not dislodge Walford from his lands if he promised to live under Puritan governance.  To this he agreed.  He lived with the Puritans for several years, but eventually his behaviors, opinions, and attitudes so irritated them that he was banished.  He would not be the last to suffer this fate.

 

The Sprague brothers decided to remain at Charlestown.  As the first three settlers they received excellent land grants.  Eventually, William would marry Millicent Eames, relocate to Hingham, and raise a family.

[i] Fireships were ships that were filled with combustible material and sailed into enemy fleets with the intent of destroying their targets with minimal loss of life for the attacker.
[ii] In the early years of transatlantic travel, ships did not normally carry manifests listing all their passengers.  Historians have pieced together some lists (with varying degrees of accuracy) from various contemporaneous sources, but many times we cannot say with complete certainty whether a particular individual was on a specific ship.
[iii] Coincidentally, this engineer was also named Thomas Graves.
[iv] His English name.

Nineteen 

Massachusetts Bay Colony: Dorchester 1630

 

Several men stood together on the deck of the Mary and John as the ship slipped her moorings and sailed away from the docks of Plymouth, England on a cold morning in late March 1630.  Spring had not yet visited southwest England, and although the sun shone brightly, it gave little comfort and no warmth.  The men had not known one another prior to their decision to form a company and emigrate to New England; however, many were west country merchants from Devonshire, Dorsetshire, and Somersetshire counties with experience in the New England fish trade, having done business there for many years.  Recruited by Reverend White, they undertook the decision to emigrate with the feeling that they were merely completing another step in familiar business dealings.  After the decision was taken, the 400-ton ship chartered and the captain paid, the supplies assembled, and all other preparations made, these men on the deck, cast together in adventure, turned their thoughts toward their immediate concerns.

 

William Rockwell, a well-liked and respected man of 39, who journeyed with his wife Susanna and two young children, voiced the question that concerned them all, "Have we made the right choice in Captain Squeb?  Do we trust him to see our families safely across the ocean and to our destination?" 

 

Grasping the ship's rails as she turned away from the wind to follow the southwest coast of England toward Falmouth and then Penzance and then into the open sea, 34-year-old Reverend John Warham, one of the ministers chosen to guide the company as both spiritual and administrative leader, considered the question.  John and his wife travelled alone.  After six years of marriage, they had no children, having buried all four of their infants soon after birth.  John knew from personal experience that the will of God was sometimes difficult to decipher, and pain and sacrifice often afflicted good people.  These personal sufferings contributed to his pervasive melancholy.  He had little to offer relative to Captain Squeb, other than the sense that Squeb seemed competent and efficient but lacked empathy and compassion.

 

While the captain hadn't done or said anything that would lead anyone to conclude he might be untrustworthy, the men aboard the Mary and John still harbored vague doubts about his intentions.  With their fortunes dependent upon the whims of the sea, they valued reliability above all.  They understood seafaring men, and something about Squeb did not seem right.

 

Ten weeks later, their fears became reality, although few suspected that the day, which began so well, would end so poorly.  Excitement ran high among the passengers as the ship skirted the New England coast.  Finally, the land to starboard fell away, and a bay opened before them.  The day was sunny and calm, and the Mary and John proceeded majestically toward the harbor.  Young and old alike crowded the decks avoiding the surly sailors as they went about their work.  Rounding the point at Nahant, they passed another point, and saw many small, fair islands verdant with spring foliage.  To the west and south, the bay seemed to extend forever, farther than the eye could see.

 

Soon, however, a murmur arose.  Why did the ship not enter the bay?   She prowled the entrance, turning this way and that, hesitating outside the great bay.  On the foredeck Captain Squeb stood tensely, glaring at the harbor with ill-concealed irritation.  After consulting Reverend Warham, William Rockwell approached him and demanded, "Master Squeb, what is the problem?  Why do we not enter the bay?"

 

Squeb looked toward William, frowning and gesturing westward.  "Look yon, Rockwell.  What see ye?"

 

Taken aback, William gazed at the tranquil bay and the massive shoreline encircling it.  Puzzled, he responded, "I see a great harbor as I expected to see at journey's end with the great lands of New England surrounding it."

 

"That is not what I see," growled Squeb.  "I see islands, many islands, and much untamed motion of water that warns of shoals and sand bars, unseen dangers for any ship that enters this harbor.  I do not see any safe route through to the western shore." 

 

William again scanned the bay, gazing at the islands, more than 30 by his count, visible in the distance.  "But surely you expected this, Captain.  I know you have not sailed into this bay before, but many other ships have entered and emerged unscathed.  The great John Smith did so, and it is in his wake we follow."

 

"Not true!" countered Squeb.  "We have no accounts of ships entering this bay, and many cast doubt on Smith's remembrance of his voyage hither.  They claim Smith's charts are mistaken and provide proof he did not sail into the bay as he avowed.  But be that as it may," he continued, "I'll not risk my ship entering this bay."

 

Aghast, William gaped at Squeb.  Other men had neared as the captain became increasingly agitated and overheard his words.

 

Reverend Warham, accustomed to managing parishioners' strong emotions as well as the selfish inclinations of powerful men, interjected calmly, "Now Squeb, you were contracted to deliver us into the Charles River at the western shore of this bay.  You cannot mean to breach your promise.  You must see us to our destination."

 

The mariners, listening to the commotion, began to mutter.  Soon, cries supporting Squeb's position could be heard.  "Aye, we should not risk our lives and ship to serve the whim of these people.  They know not the dangers of the sea.  We'll do as Cap'n Squeb says and not as these fools demand."

 

Suddenly, Captain Squeb appeared to reach a decision.  Turning to his men, he ordered the mate to pursue a course southwest.  "I'll take ye to that spit of land yon," he said, then we shall see.  By my reckon, I delivered ye safely to New England and more I cannot do."

 

"By all that is sacred and just," bellowed William, losing his famous calm, "you cannot leave us here far from any known settlement.  At least take us north to Salem or south to Plymouth.  Both are within a few hours sail."

 

Glancing scornfully at the passengers and dropping any pretense of respect or benevolence, Squeb retorted, "All that is sacred and just to me are my ship and my men, and I'll risk neither to carry a group of religious fools through an unknown bay without pilot or accurate charts to guide me.  I've listened to you prattle and preach every day for 10 weeks, and by God I've had enough.  I want ye off this ship within the hour."

 

And so began the most notorious seafaring incident in New England settlement.  Dropping anchor off the shore of Nantasket[i], a narrow peninsula encircling the southeastern part of the bay, Captain Squeb ordered the 140 passengers of the Mary and John to disembark.  Quickly, the sailors readied the shallops, and the men, women, and children were put ashore on a spit of land unknown to them and far from their intended destination. 

 

Ann Hoskins and her daughter Katherine had been frightened into submissive silence.[ii]  While no one knew much about the Charles River settlements, or about Salem or Plymouth, at least they knew these places were inhabited.  The place where Squeb put them ashore appeared completely deserted.  Huddled in small groups, women and children wept quietly. 

 

Fifteen-year-old Katherine looked uncertainly at her mother and asked, "Mother, will we be all right?"

 

Praying that her husband, John, and the other men could fix this disaster, Ann replied, "Well, we certainly weren't expecting this, child, but remember, English people have come to New England, in even smaller numbers, and have survived and built settlements.  God's will put us here, so I'm sure He will provide."

She then turned away to hide the tremor in her lip.

 

The men began to gather wood to build fires against the late afternoon chill and approaching darkness.  The women and children unpacked their trunks, removing the items they would need to spend the night.  With horror, Ann realized that her precious linens would be laid directly upon the ground.  Shuddering, she bit her lip and prepared a small campsite for her family.  After eating a meager meal, the women and children retired for the night.  The men discussed their options.  The most reasonable course of action, they decided, would be to send a scouting group to the Charles River, their original destination.  But they were miles away by sea and even farther by land.

 

The following day 10 men reconnoitered the immediate area and came across some Old Planters[iii], one of whom loaned them a small craft to look for a suitable settlement site.  Leaving the others at Nantasket, the scouting group sailed around the bay islands, stopped at Charlestown, and finally entered the Charles River.

 

Continuing upriver they spotted some sparsely inhabited places.  However, none of the sites inspired much confidence.  The residents appeared wan and malnourished, and the scouts found little to encourage them to settle there.  Receiving word that the larger group at Nantasket had found a suitable area called "Mattapan", the scouts returned to view the proposed location.  This area was home to an Old Planter who chose it for its easy access to the sea, good anchorage, and proximity to the Neponset Indians, noted trappers and valued trading partners.  Relieved, the scouting party agreed that the chosen site held great promise.  At the very least, they should stay for a time and regain their strength.

 

Likely using shallops to transport themselves and their belongings from Nantasket across the bay to Mattapan and driving the livestock overland, they arrived at Dorchester Neck (South Boston) in Old Harbor.   The Mattapan peninsula contained great salt marshes, where their weakened cattle could graze on abundant grasses.   Clams and fish abounded, as did deer and rabbits.  Exhausted and beset with scurvy, the settlers called upon Plymouth's Doctor Fuller to come treat the ailing.  The proposed treatment?  Bloodletting.

 

In the 17th century, most physicians believed that illness resulted from an imbalance in the body's four "humors", essences based on the physical elements of earth, air, fire, and water.  Bloodletting supposedly rebalanced these humors.   While the true nature of the circulatory system, which disproved the basic theory underlying bloodletting, had been discovered and published in 1628, it continued to be practiced by barbers and physicians in both Old and New Worlds until well into the mid-19th century.  Dr. Fuller, who arrived in Plymouth in 1620, probably knew little about recent scientific discoveries. 

 

Thirty-five-year-old Ann Hoskins waited patiently for her turn with the doctor.  She didn't fear the process of bloodletting but knew that her daughter, Katherine, who had yet to undergo the practice did…a lot.  While they waited, Ann tried to calm Katherine's fears.

 

"Hush, now," she said, "there is nothing to fear.  Doctors and barbers have done this for centuries to the benefit of many people."

 

Warily, Katherine asked, "But what will be done, Mother? What exactly?"

 

Ann, nervously tugging at her lip said, "Well, the doctor will settle me upon a pallet, and then he will prick a hole in my arm and drain my blood into a small bowl."

 

"Prick a hole in your arm?" Katherine practically shrieked.  "How so?  Will he use a blade?"  Her imagination conjured the long knives used by fishmongers to scale fish.

 

"He will use a small, special knife called a fleam, Katherine.  I promise that it will not hurt; he will cut quickly and cleanly, and the blade is sharp.  I'll feel little, and afterward I'll be completely restored."

 

Katherine, having lost all color from her cheeks, nearly fainted.  Casting a furtive look about, Ann grabbed Katherine's arm and whispered, "Collect yourself, child.  Many young men are about, and you shouldn't appear afeared of such a small thing.  A good wife is brave and calm in all circumstances.  We are lucky Doctor Fuller is here; otherwise, we might suffer more disease.  Bloodletting is a small price to pay for our health."

 

"Yes, Mother," replied Katherine, nauseous and unconvinced.  She wanted to believe Ann, but the entire process sounded unsafe, unclean, and disgusting.  Still, she did not wish to look foolish before the entire community.

 

The Mary and John settlers remained at Mattapan to gain strength before joining the larger settlement group, due any day now.  However, after multiple excursions along the Charles River, seeing only poverty and wilderness, they decided that Mattapan, which reminded them of home, should be their permanent residence.  Naming their town "Dorchester", they began allocating land and building homes and public structures.  They soon established a thriving fishing practice in the bay, which provided their primary sustenance during the first year in New England. [iv]  They established their Church, with Reverends Warham and Maverick presiding and William Rockwell as deacon. 

 

For a time, Dorchester was the most important New England town.  The location was excellent, with mature woods and fresh water, arable lands, cornfields, salt marshes, fresh meadows, and a good harbor.  Dorchester established official town records in January of 1633, the first Massachusetts town to do so.  Regulations addressed proper methods for laying out roads, granting land, and regulating fences, cattle, and other domestic animals.[v]  Early on, the town ordered that no resident could sell his house or land to any person from outside "whom they shall dislike of." 

 

In 1633, Dorchester promulgated an order relative to the form of town government, which was codified throughout Massachusetts in 1636.  It read:

It is ordered that for the general good and well ordering of the affairs of the plantation, there shall be every Monday before the Court, by 8 o'clock A.M., and presently by the beating of the drum, a general meeting of the inhabitants of the plantation at the meetinghouse, there to settle and set down such orders as may tend to the general good as aforesaid, and every man to be bound thereby, without gainsaying or resistance.  It is also agreed that there shall be twelve men selected out of the company, that may, or the greatest part of them, meet as aforesaid to determine as aforesaid; yet so far as it is desired that the most of the plantation will keep the meeting constantly, and that all that are there, though not of the twelve, shall have a free voice as any of the twelve, and the other shall be of force and efficacy as aforesaid.  And it is likewise ordered, that all things concluded as aforesaid shall stand in force and be obeyed until the next monthly meeting, and afterwards if it be not contradicted and otherwise ordered at said monthly meeting by the greatest vote of those are present as aforesaid.  

 

In the mid-1630's, internal disputes and friction between original and newer settlers caused unrest.  With frustrations running high, Reverend Warham, now a widower with an infant son, led his followers into the Connecticut River Valley.  The Rockwells, the Hoskins, the Wiltons, and several other families joined him, eventually settling Windsor, Connecticut.  Emigration out of Dorchester led to a state of decline from which the town never completely recovered. 

[i] Now Hull, Massachusetts.
[ii] Historians are divided about which members of the Hoskins family were on the Mary and John.  I have chosen to include them all, including John, Ann, John Jr., Thomas, and Katherine.
[iii] During the previous decade, various settlers had arrived in the Massachusetts Bay area and decided not to settle at Plymouth, Cape Ann, or Salem.  Some were the remnants of the colony at Wessagusset; others were simply people who preferred the freedom of the wilderness to the religious character and security of a more established settlement.
[iv] An alewife is a type of herring and was much appreciated by our 17th century ancestors.
[v] Land grants often included amusing, if somewhat unhelpful descriptions to researchers, such as the grant to John Hoskins in 1634 of four acres of meadow on the Neck "where the dog was killed."

 

 

Twenty

Massachusetts Bay Colony: The Winthrop Fleet 1630

 

In June and July 1630, a majestic fleet of 11 ships approached the New England shoreline.[i]  The "Winthrop Fleet, led by the flagship Arbella, included the Ambrose, the Jewel, the Talbot, the Mayflower,[ii] the Whale, the Hopewell, the William & Francis, the Trial, the Charles, and the Success.  The fleet brought John Winthrop, the new Governor of Massachusetts Bay Colony, and about 700 fellow Puritans.[iii]  

 

Master's Mate Thomas Graves gazed upon the New England coastline with relief. [iv]   The journey had been difficult.  Having encountered severe storms, accompanied by snow and sleet, the fleet had been driven north to a latitude of 46 degrees, far from their planned course.   Most ships lost passengers and cattle.  The Talbot lost 14 people to smallpox.  Thomas and the Fleet passengers met the sight of land with tangible relief.  

 

Dropping anchor in the harbors of Salem and Charlestown, the ships shot off cannons to announce their arrival.  In response, colonists launched shallops into the bay, rowing out to greet the ships and assist however they could.  Some of the Massachusetts also sped out in watercraft to greet the new arrivals.

 

Isaac Stearns, a tailor from Nayland-on-Stoke, County Suffolk, grasped the rails of the foredeck and peered onshore.  The summer day was clear and bright; seagulls soared and dipped around the ship; fish cavorted on all sides; in fact, the scenery near the ship was delightful.  However, the scene on land fell far short of the bay's beauty.  Gazing toward the ramshackle settlement spread thinly about the wharf, Isaac's heart sank, this was Salem?  Far from bustling, Salem appeared thinly populated and depressing.   Some people, looking sickly and emaciated, shambled about the wharf.  With downcast eyes and hunched shoulders, they conveyed an air of despair. 

 

Thirty-three years old, quick-witted, and ambitious, Isaac came from a modest background but seemed destined to succeed.  He had impressed John Winthrop, his neighbor in England, during their interactions, and Winthrop had invited Isaac to join his inner circle.   Having studied the written accounts about conditions in New England, Winthrop knew that much had been left unsaid.  He expected hardship, deprivation, and despair and had shared his conclusions with a few confidants, yet even armed with foreknowledge and tempered expectations, Isaac gazed with dismay upon the rude settlement.

 

Upon disembarking, the passengers' initial excitement soon ebbed away.  Salem residents complained to anyone who would listen.  Eighty people had died over the previous winter, and the survivors were hungry, ill, and frustrated.  Their limited stores of bread and corn would soon be depleted.  Like many before them, they had neglected to plant the crops in the fall.  The Salem settlers expected the Winthrop Fleet to settle in Salem and share the Fleet's provisions. 

 

For their part, the Fleet passengers expected to find a well-developed, prosperous town filled with hardy individuals who had organized a successful settlement.  Both groups were disappointed in their expectations.  Salem consisted of 10 poor houses and a few additional structures, all strung out along a rutted, muddy road.  Not one inspired either confidence in its construction nor cheer in its appearance.  The Salem ministers, Higginson and Skelton, met the arrivals with cold hostility.  Shocked by the ministers' barely concealed anger and resentment, the new settlers wondered at the changes wrought in these once kindly men.  Considering the wretched town, its poor and sickly inhabitants, and its unwelcoming clergy, members of the Fleet soon concluded that Salem could not accommodate an influx of 700 people, even for a short time.  Nor did the new settlers wish to remain.

 

Isaac wandered about town seeking out people who might provide insight into the Salem situation.  Venturing away from the wharf, he met the Sprague brothers who were visiting from Charlestown.  Isaac liked them immediately and spent several hours with them, listening to their opinions about New England and Salem.  The brothers shared their learnings about the new colony.

 

"Listen not to the complainers, of which there are many," advised William, "be of good cheer.  Work first and foremost to build your home.  Make it fast against wind, rain, and snow. Be not distracted by friends or family.  Neither they nor salvation from above will protect you from the harsh winters. Encourage your wife to keep the children busy gathering nuts and berries and other foodstuffs for winter storage.  Eat a variety of foods but consume them sparingly; set aside what you can. Time and time again, planters[v] expect arriving ships to bring provisions to see them through the first winter, but they are frequently disappointed.  The ships either do not come, or they bring more mouths to feed.  They never bring sufficient provisions.  Your family's survival during the winter will depend upon your prudence and diligence this summer and fall."

 

"Above all," William continued, "let not your wife fall into despair.  Those who sadden easily are also prone to sicken quickly.  Work hard but maintain thy spirits and those of your family.  The land is good, and opportunity is nigh.  Keep God close to your heart, and all will be well."

 

Quite a wise lad, for one so young, thought Isaac.  The Sprague brothers, mused Isaac, had thrived in New England.  They looked hale.  They were enthusiastic and had not lost heart through all the suffering over the winter.  Furthermore, unlike most English settlers, the Spragues had been farmers in England, and this lent practical weight to their suggestions.  Their advice was likely sound, and he would do well to follow it, he decided.

 

Isaac accompanied the Spragues to Charlestown on the Mishawum Peninsula.[vi]  Liking what he saw, he decided to settle there with other Winthrop Fleet passengers.  Six new ships arrived at Charlestown soon thereafter, and Charlestown began to resemble a proper town.  The company engineer had laid out a pleasing town plan with streets encircling Town Hill in an orderly, elliptical pattern.  The settlers planned to erect private houses, huts, or tents - according to their abilities and means - along the new streets.  Some Fleet passengers brought servants to construct their homes, which would ease that burden.  However, even the wealthiest were exhausted from the passage, and many suffered from scurvy.  Their money and high station could not shield them from the effects of malnutrition, poor sanitation, and infectious diseases.  As more people fell ill, their enthusiasm dissipated.

 

The colonists soon noticed a serious problem on the Mishawum peninsula – a problem that had curiously gone unnoticed by the first groups to settle there.  Charlestown lacked fresh water.  As deaths attributed to malnutrition, poor sanitation, and disease began to accelerate, the settlers realized that the lack of fresh, clean water exacerbated health and sanitary problems.  Nor did death discriminate - men, women, children, the wealthy, and the poor - all were equally susceptible.  The Fleet settlers began dying off as quickly as the Plymouth and Salem settlers had.  The Governor, whose own private physician died soon after arriving in New England, requested aid from Plymouth, which dispatched Dr. Fuller.  But even his most diligent bloodletting campaigns failed to staunch the quickening tide of death.

 

Another matter concerned the settlers.  While their original plan was to build one settlement for all the Fleet passengers, the colonists began to think it might be wiser to establish several smaller towns.  This option offered numerous benefits.

 

First, inhabiting the territory broadly meant physically securing their patent against rival English companies, many of whom had been agitating in England to obtain rights in Massachusetts for themselves. 

 

Second, the group's large size argued against settling only one town.  Many settlers were - or intended to become - farmers, and farmers needed adequate landholdings to establish croplands and animal pastures.  It would be impossible to fairly distribute lands in one settlement.  Some residents would receive land farther away from the town center, causing ill will and preventing outlying farmers from frequenting town markets, church services, and town meetings. 

 

Third, repeated warnings of potential attack by the French in Canada or the Native tribes, further complicated matters, causing the Massachusetts settlers to conclude that building multiple settlements would force attackers to divide their forces, decreasing any likelihood of an enemy victory.

Colony leaders decided to revise their initial plan.  Meanwhile, winter approached. 

 

Conducting scouting missions, the Puritans found several suitable locations, and the Governor marketed his plan on its merits while minimizing its defects.  The colonists began to arrange themselves into smaller affinity groups allied around a favorite minister or extended family.  Typically, the group would formulate an agreement whereby the members promised to live according to community standards, participate in building the new town, and discourage unsuitable persons from joining the group.  On this latter point, community leaders were adamant – carving a settlement out of the wilderness would be difficult enough.  Allowing malcontents, heretics, and lay-abouts to undermine community cohesion could not be permitted.

 

As groups dispersed, they settled the more promising areas first.  Some joined Governor Winthrop in crossing the Charles River and establishing themselves at Shawmut (Boston).  Others went upriver and settled Newtown (Cambridge).  Some travelled further upstream and founded Dorchester Fields (Watertown).  Yet others settled Roxbury south of Boston.  Another group moved northwest toward Salem to found Lynn.  Few remained at Charlestown or returned to Salem. 

 

As Mary and Isaac Stearns sat before the fire one fall evening after tucking the children into bed, Mary asked, "But why are we to be separated, Isaac?  Does it not make more sense to remain together and build one town that we all might be stronger in our proximity?"

 

"Ah, Mary," replied Isaac, "I understand you well.  In England, we cherished our towns, lively markets, and shops.  I remember our village of Nayland and miss our neighbors and friends.  Sometimes, though, we agreed that too many people knew our business and a breath of anonymity would be welcome."

 

Mary laughed.  "Oh, right you are.  I did wish for less friendly interest from our neighbors.  Yet, I think the situations are different.  At home, we knew everyone, friend and foe.  Here, we know not which is which.  I fear that the further we venture into the wilderness, the less secure we shall be.  And you have suggested we move to the community farthest west.  What did you call it?  Watertown?  Who else is going?  Why do you think it a good idea?"

 

"Sir Saltonstall has decided to go to Watertown.  Also, Minister Phillips, who preached near Nayland, will go.  Many of our friends from Nayland find his sermons uplifting and will follow him.  I wish to join them.  With these good people, we'll have all we need to establish a fine town and a finer church. 

 

"And the Warrens?" inquired Mary anxiously.  The Warrens, an older couple whose three children were close to the Stearns' children, were kindly and supportive.  True, they frequently failed to attend Puritan services, and Mary heard rumors that they held Baptist notions, but she did not judge people according to religious persuasion.

 

"Yes," smiled Isaac, "John and Margaret will go to Watertown as well."

 

"And what might you tell me of the place?"

 

Isaac hesitated.  What could he say?  What did anyone really know about these early settlement places?  "Well, it is merely 10 miles from Boston, and river travel between the towns is easy.  The soil is good.  Sir Saltonstall has commitments from 35 other families to locate there.  The town has not been surveyed, but once it is, we shall lay it out.  We'll have a meetinghouse and a town green.  House lots will be assigned around the green, and additional farmland, wood lots, and grazing areas will be allocated further out.  We'll set aside lands for common use and for future inhabitants.  This is how all Massachusetts Bay towns will be organized."  Realizing he was rambling, Isaac fell silent. 

 

Heavens above, he thought, women could be unreasonable wanting to know everything about a matter.  Of course, this was most annoying when he lacked the answers.

 

In truth, Mary did not mind moving inland.  She had an independent nature, and the idea of settling the frontier appealed.  As she fell into bed her thoughts turned to practical matters.  The children will be fine, of course.  While John is still nursing, I will wean him soon. The girls are no trouble and instead will be a great help.   It is comforting that Sir Saltonstall is going to Watertown.  He has ample means to obtain supplies from home if crops come in slowly or if fishing and hunting are unsuccessful.  He has displayed his generosity many times, and this could mean the difference between life and death in a new settlement.  And thank goodness dear Margaret will be with me.  We have become such friends.  Yea, if this is what Isaac wants, then I'll be brave and go along. 

[i] The ships, of different sizes, styles, speeds, and cargos, drifted apart during the crossing, making landfall on different dates.
[ii] Not the Pilgrim ship.
[iii] John Winthrop is not a Richardson ancestor.
[iv]  The Graves Family Association and many other secondary sources claim that Graves was Mate on the flagship, Arbella. Historian James Savage in his edition of Governor Winthrop's Journal writes that "Our Captain…sent Mr. Graves, one of his mates and our pilot (a discreet man,) to see how things were…"   Savage italicized the name "Graves"; this was his way of indicating that the word/name was of doubtful accuracy.  However, in a footnote, Savage went on to say that the Mate went on to become a Master on several voyages, settled in New England, and then was called a Rear-Admiral by another historian.  Since all of these things were true of Thomas Graves, it is entirely possible that he was also the Arbella's Mate.
[v] The term "planters" was used interchangeably with settlers and colonists.
[vi] The Native American word "Mishawum" meant Great Neck.

 

Twenty-one 

Massachusetts Bay Colony: Boston 1630  

    

Just across the Charles River from Charlestown, a hilly peninsula stretched southward.   Called "Shawmut" by the Massachusetts, the peninsula consisted of three tree-covered hills.  With numerous natural springs, Shawmut boasted plenty of fresh water.  Set at the confluence of three bodies of water: the harbor and the Charles and Mystic Rivers, it was well protected from overland attack.  With plenty of deep-water harbor frontage, trading ships could be easily accommodated.  Governor Winthrop thought it an excellent place to build his "City on a Hill".

 

Another Englishman was already there.  Reverend Blackstone, Winthrop's former classmate at Cambridge College, had joined Wessagusset Colony in 1623 but quickly tired of the shenanigans there.  He purchased 50 acres at Shawmut from the Massachusetts and lived a solitary life in a cabin surrounded by an apple orchard, said to be the first apple orchard in the New World, in the area now known as Beacon Hill.  His peace continued undisturbed until Winthrop arrived.  Blackstone, an easy-going man, invited Winthrop to join him – a decision Blackstone came to regret.  Winthrop accepted and moved the colonial government to Shawmut, accompanied by several of his closest friends and allies. 

 

Massachusetts Bay Colony Government

 

Winthrop Makes a Power Grab

 

The government form had yet to be finalized.  Originally a corporate entity, it consisted of the General Court and the Court of Assistants.  Theoretically, the General Court held greater power and fulfilled the legislative, executive, and judicial functions of government. 

 

However, as a corporation, the General Court would include only company shareholders.  When the settlers discovered this, they objected…strongly.  The (male) settlers were essentially disenfranchised, with no rights to participate in the new government.  Facing a possible uprising and PR disaster, Winthrop satisfied the male settlers by creating a path to suffrage and special privilege.  He organized a system whereby reputable church members could join the General Court as "freemen". [i]  Freemen could vote at the General meetings (or "Courts"), which were held 2-4 times per year.  Freeman also received preferential land grants, which improved a man's economic prospects.  But Winthrop withheld vital information from his fellow settlers. 

 

While the King's Royal Charter invested the General Court with the rights to vote and participate in the lawmaking process, Winthrop's plan limited their suffrage to electing, once yearly, the Governor and his Assistants ("Magistrates").  They could not vote on other matters.  This abrogation of power prevented the General Court from exercising its full powers and relegated it to a secondary role.  While Winthrop later claimed he did this to reduce government inefficiency, his scheme really served to guarantee his control over the government.

 

The Court of Assistants included the Governor, the Deputy Governor, and up to 18 Assistants.  The Governor presided over the monthly meetings.  With the General Court's role now limited to electing the Court of Assistants, Winthrop and his friends assumed the duties (and benefits) of the executive, legislative, and judicial branches of government.  The Court of Assistants chose the Governor and Deputy Governor from its own ranks, promulgated laws, appointed officers to carry out the laws, issued warrants, presided over trials, and sentenced offenders.  Its members obtained preferential land grants in return for their service.  

 

Before the true nature of Winthrop's authoritarian scheme became apparent, the Court of Assistants exercised power in an innocuous and routine manner, renaming Shawmut "Boston" and holding the first General Court in October of 1630.[ii]   The Assistants also addressed a pressing annoyance – the unregulated discharging of firearms.  Colony citizens tended to shoot off their guns as the mood struck causing widespread consternation and panic.  At night the arbitrary gunshots disturbed peacefully slumbering households.  The Assistants enacted a law prohibiting discharge of firearms after dark, unless the intent was to sound an alarm.  This law met with little resistance as most colonists favored the opportunity to sleep unmolested through the night.  Later laws, however, were more controversial and demonstrated a mounting intolerance for diversity of thought and acts.

 

Massachusetts Bay Colony soon developed a reputation for excessive governmental and religious control and unreasonable constraint of personal liberty.

 

 

Life in the Bay Colony

 

The general sickness followed the Puritans to Boston.  Over 200 people died; every family was touched, both rich and poor.  The mounting death rate and authoritarian governance caused many to regret immigrating to New England.  When the Lyon returned to England in fall 1630, she carried 100 returning passengers.  Other Puritan colonists moved to settlements beyond the Bay Colony's control.  Of 700 Winthrop Fleet passengers, only 350-400 remained in Massachusetts by winter 1630.

 

Two who did remain, Richard Wright and Thomas Howlett, considered the hilly peninsula stretching southward from Charlestown.  Separated in age by about 10 years, both were men of means and talent, although more similar in the latter than the former.  Richard worked for an English investor for whom he would manage a large New England farm.  He planned to leverage that experience by leasing and managing ever-larger properties for himself.  He came with his wife, Margaret, an invalid, and three daughters, the youngest of whom, Abigail, was barely seven years old.  Richard's mother also accompanied them.  Despite his wealth, Richard worried that colonial life would be difficult for Margaret, his elderly mother, and the children. 

 

Thomas Howlett, a young man of 24, had yet to marry.  A surveyor, he had listened enthusiastically to the talk of establishing several settlements for reasons of security and practicality.  Believing that every settlement would need a surveyor to lay out towns and roads, he looked forward to many work opportunities. 

 

The Shawmut peninsula presented several development challenges.  Before Boston's "back bay" was filled in to accommodate the city's growth, the peninsula was almost an island, surrounded on the east, north, and west by water, connected to the mainland by a thin neck of land to the south.   With water on three sides, the location was reasonably secure from both human and wolf predation, and ocean breezes provided relief from mosquitos.  Nonetheless, drawbacks existed.  All land traffic needed to traverse the narrow southern neck.  Furthermore, the peninsula lacked basic resources such as woods and meadowlands, so vital resources such as wood and hay needed to be carted in or delivered by boat.  

 

Despite these challenges, mused Thomas, the location's benefits remain clear.  Security and access to fishing and shipping routes would enable its settlers to build a strong, thriving community.  Further, since land traffic would create bottlenecks, especially on high traffic days such as the Sabbath, when many people would come to services, or market day, when farmers and trappers would come to sell goods, it would be important to develop an easily maneuverable town plan.  A good challenge, he thought, and much surveying work.

 

To Thomas' frustration, the government failed to engage anyone to oversee the town's early development.  Consequently, the original town center grew haphazardly along the ancient footpaths carved by the Massachusetts over generations.  Herding their cows along these meandering routes, the colonists thought little about establishing an organized town plan.  The resulting town center followed the topography of the land rather than conforming to a more efficient design.  To this ill-considered decision, modern Bostonians owe their array of narrow, confusing streets and awkward building placement.  

 

The colonists needed to secure shelter for their families before winter.  Most were of modest means, and although they trusted the Governor to fairly allocate land, they worried about obtaining raw materials and hiring building laborers.  With so many people arriving at the same time demand for these would likely outstrip availability.  The colonists worried that wealthier settlers would have better access to materials and could offer exorbitant sums to building tradesmen to speed construction of their own homes.  The thought that the wealthy might monopolize the services of the laborers, casting the less entitled immigrants into the same inescapable cycle of poverty and misery they had known in England, provoked anguish and outrage.

 

"What is the good of creating a City on a Hill, godly and upright, if the same old patterns persist, and the wealthy survive at the expense of the poor?" they asked.  Perhaps the government should enact regulations to prevent the wealthy from monopolizing builders' services.  

 

Broaching the subject with Richard, Thomas asked, "What think you of the Governor's plan to set the costs of building labor?"  

 

Richard eyed Thomas thoughtfully.  As the well-paid employee of a wealthy man, he could contract any services he needed for shelter, sustenance, and other support, and bill his employer.  Knowing he could accommodate his family's needs, he hadn't worried much about the matter.  However, the concern etched on Thomas's face caused Richard to reconsider the matter.

"Well," he hesitated, "I'm not sure I know a great deal about it.  At home, wages were set by contract between the builder and the homeowner.  This worked well for all involved.  I'm not sure I understand why things should be different here.  What think you?"

 

"Our situation here is different," replied Thomas.  "At home, many families would be unlikely to need homes all at once.  In Old England, with only a few families needing homes at any time, construction tradesmen must compete with one another by keeping their rates sufficiently low to ensure that they obtain at least some building contracts.  This in turn ensures that the prices are fair for all who build homes.  Here, where many need homes at the same time, families of greater wealth can offer tradesmen more money to ensure that their homes are built first.  Any family who cannot pay the higher rate must wait to secure shelter."

 

"Would this not be the case under any circumstances?" asked Richard.  "The builders cannot build all of the houses at once, and so some must wait while others build."

 

 "True," countered Thomas, "but why should a wealthier family have a house first, while another family must wait?"

 

"In my business, Thomas," said Richard, "it is the right of men providing services to freely contract for the price of those services, and to sell them to the man who pays the best price.  It has long been thus.  Hence the man who has spent seven long years in education or in apprenticeship and many more years perfecting his skills may obtain higher recompense in return for his abilities."

 

"I understand," said Thomas, "and normally I would agree.  Yet I must repeat that I think circumstances are different here.  If the wealthy can secure to themselves the services of the building tradesmen, what will become of the other families?  They, too, paid passage to settle here.  They, too, suffered crossing the sea; they fell ill; they lost loved ones.  Are they now to face winter without adequate shelter merely because they are poor compared to others?  Shall they live in rude tents and wigwams, shivering and miserable while richer men live comfortably in sturdy houses with large hearths?  Why must they do this?  How does this make our Christian Colony any better than what we had in England?" 

 

Clearly, Thomas' passion on the topic was heartfelt, and he made a point, thought Richard.  Perhaps market rules, where buyer and seller have unlimited freedom to contract, might not fit the new Colony's needs.  If we value the right of each man to improve himself according to his talent and ambition and not according to social status or wealth, perhaps market rules should be overridden, at least in this circumstance.

 

"I will think on the matter, Thomas," he said.  "I confess I had not given the question due consideration, and you have given me much to ponder.  It seems likely we must reconsider many traditions in our new circumstances.  In the meantime, we shall see what the Governor and Court decide."

 

In fact, the Court set a legal limit of two shillings per day for the services of carpenters, joiners, bricklayers, sawyers, and thatchers.   To ensure compliance, they set a fine of ten shillings for flouting the law - five times the legal daily wage - which was assessable against both the purchaser and the laborer.  Implicitly acknowledging that the wage control measure had been enacted to counteract extraordinary circumstances, the law would automatically expire the following March, once the initial frenzy to construct shelter against the coming winter had ended.[iii]  In this way, all who came to Massachusetts Bay were given equal opportunity to contract for shelter against the coming winter regardless of distinctions in wealth.  If a man could pay the legal rate, he could obtain the services of the available builders. 

 

The wage control proved successful, and most people were able to build some sort of shelter prior to winter, including Thomas and Richard.  Ribbing his older friend Thomas teased, "Lo, good Richard, what say ye about the Governor's wage rule now?  Most families have survived the winter cozy in their homes, and those few who could not sheltered in the ships."

 

"Yes, 'tis true, Thomas," replied Richard, "yet our brethren must receive credit for their cooperation in the matter.  I am not convinced the law alone would have worked if the people had not agreed to build the minimum for their families' needs so as to free the laborers to work on other dwellings."

 

"You make a sound point," smiled Thomas, "it takes not only the rulemaking of government but also the love of one's neighbors to build a solid community.  We Bostonians have shown the best of ourselves this winter.  God willing, we shall continue on this path."

 

By spring 1631, the two had further reasons for optimism.  During the winter, the 150 Bostonians lived on clams, mussels, groundnuts, and acorns, now in short supply.  Even the Governor's household was reduced to its last batch of bread.  Many feared they faced certain doom when Mr. Pierce's ship, the Lyon, sent to Ireland with urgent pleas for additional provisions, did not return when expected.  Some worried that the ship had been attacked by pirates or lost in a storm.  When she suddenly appeared in February 1631, laden with 200 tons of provisions, the settlers rejoiced.  The government did not have to intervene to prevent the wealthy from monopolizing the provisions by overpaying for them.  The colonists themselves agreed to allot provisions to people in order of need rather than ability to pay.

 

Thomas and Richard's subsequent movements provide a glimpse into the norm for early Puritan settlers.  Thomas Howlett soon moved to the seaside town of Agawam (Ipswich), where he was among the first 10 settlers.  As an original "proprietor" he received preference in land grants and other opportunities.  In Ipswich he met and married Alice French, and together they had seven children.  He continued his career as a surveyor and gained prominence in the community, being named Deputy to the General Court for Ipswich, Sargent and then Ensign of the Ipswich Train Band, and Deacon in the Ipswich Church.  Eventually, having parceled out his Ipswich lands to his children, he retired inland with his second wife (Alice having died) to the new town of Topsfield, near Salem.  Thomas died in 1678 at the age of 72, happy to have left the political intrigue, religious severity, and limited opportunities of Boston behind.

 

Richard Wright remained in Boston until 1643 when he moved to Rehoboth.  He moved back to Boston in 1649, then removed to Ipswich in 1652, Twelve Mile Island in 1662, and finally to Podunk (Connecticut Colony) in 1666.  He, too, served his community well as a Deputy to the General Court for Lynn and serving on several committees before dying at age 72.

 

[i] Men would request admission to the ranks of freemen at a meeting of the General Court, and after review, the petition was granted (or denied) at a second meeting. 
[ii] At this General Court, the "reputable male church members" applied for freeman status, which was granted the following May.  From these records, historians have assembled the list of those who arrived in North America before October of 1630.
[iii] Interestingly, the Government again imposed the wage control 2 years later, likely due to a large influx of new immigrants.

 

 

PART FOUR

Puritan vs. Puritan: Seeds of Rebellion 1631-1636

"I came from England because I did not like the Lord-Bishops, but I cannot join with you because I would not be under the Lord-Brethren."

- Rev. William Blackstone 1635

 

Once the Puritans arrived in the New World and attempted to build that "City on a Hill" of perfect religious virtuosity aligned with perfect religious governance, they slipped rather quickly into the trap of perfectly rigid intolerance.  As they attempted to balance religious beliefs with the practicalities of government, they compromised on both.  

 

The transition from rebellious reformers to incumbent leaders spurred the Massachusetts Bay authorities to implement a series of increasingly autocratic measures designed to refine and perfect their control over the nascent Colony.

 

Among the first to find themselves at odds with the new government were the Old Planters.  These people had come to the New World without kin or support, seeking personal and religious freedom and willing to risk their lives to attain it.  These earlier immigrants aided the Puritans upon their arrival in New England, sharing food, lending boats and other resources, smoothing interactions with Native peoples, and even sharing the lands they had diligently cultivated.  The Puritans soon forgot these kindnesses, and the Old Planters either left out of aggravation with the many new rules and laws or were banished from the Colony, sometimes with the added insult of being fined for their supposed transgressions. 

 

These aggressions, however, were not limited to the freedom-loving early planters, and soon the colonial government began turning on those who had been dear friends and staunch supporters in England.

 

Arrival of the Rock Stars

"We must picture these Puritans as the very opposite of those who bear that name today: as young, fierce, progressive intellectuals, very fashionable and up-to-date. They were not teetotallers; bishops, not beer, were their special aversion…"  C.S. Lewis

 

Twenty-two

Reverend Roger Williams

 

Charming, confident, and intense, Reverend Roger Williams was also deeply charismatic and earnest.  Williams was no shallow purveyor of feel-good godliness, nor had his talents gone to his head.  He was a true believer of the purest sort.  His adherence to learnings revealed in the constant pursuit of purity eventually led to conflict with the authorities because, while the authorities preached purity, they often abandoned it in favor of governance.  Williams, in contrast, proved incapable of subverting his principles to mere practicality. 

 

While still in England, Roger Williams was offered a ministry with the Salem planters of 1629, but feeling unready, he refused the offer.  In attendance at the Sempringham meeting, the 23-year-old, considered a rising star of Puritan thought, found himself accepted without question by the more established ministers and important laymen.  The small differences in Williams' attitudes manifest at that point, such as his utter refusal to use the Book of Common Prayer, seemed trifling.  While most Puritan ministers kept a copy of the Book of Common Prayer handy in case the High Commission's enforcers appeared unannounced during church services, Williams refused to bend his principles to practicality, even to avoid arrest.  His fellow Puritans failed to appreciate that this complete unwillingness to compromise his beliefs hinted at another differentiating characteristic - Williams' fearlessness in the face of authority.[i] 

 

Roger was a family chaplain, and when the High Commission began to purge Puritans from such positions, he realized he must emigrate.  In December 1630 Roger and his wife Mary boarded the Lyon bound for New England.  Some 10 weeks later, after a punishing North Atlantic passage, the Lyon arrived in Massachusetts Bay.      

 

In New England, Roger received an unequivocal welcome.  Soon, he was offered a position as Teacher of the church at Boston, which would enable him to minister to the Boston congregation while the regular minister returned to England to fetch his wife.[ii]  Williams bluntly declined the position stating that the Boston church had insufficiently separated from the "corrupt" practices of the Church of England and therefore held no interest for him.  He also commented on the importance of separating government authority and an individual's religious behavior, opining that the government practice of punishing citizens for religious breaches was an unacceptable incursion into individual rights.  The Boston hierarchy was not amused. 

 

In England, the Puritans had been the rebels.  Once in New England, in control and trying to build a stable, religious city-state, they became the establishment.  Where once they celebrated theological reformation, now they viewed reformation as rebellion and refused to tolerate it. 

 

Nor did Williams' ideas represent "mere theological disputes" about the how religion should be practiced.  He attacked the very foundation of the church-state relationship.  At the time, church and state were not separate, neither in England nor in Massachusetts Bay nor in most of the world.  The English government, through its magistrates, punished citizens for religious lapses, such as irregular church attendance and speaking out against the official religion of the state.  Roger Williams stood for the novel proposal that the relationship between an individual and God, as represented by religion, was private and not subject to state authority.  This represented a radical break from historical, theological, and political practice.  It also presented a direct threat to the governing authorities because it disputed the government's right to regulate an individual's relationship with religion.  This was no mere theological fine point; it represented a direct threat to the colonial government's legitimacy.  

 

The Salem church, unruffled by the controversy, offered Roger a post, which he accepted.  Acting swiftly, Boston authorities inquired why the Salem church had offered Williams the Teaching position without consulting them and suggested that the Boston and Salem churches discuss the matter before finalizing arrangements.  In the context of 17th century political communication, the threat was clear, and fearing reprisal, Salem withdrew its offer.  Having escaped persecution by England's High Commission, Williams now found himself persecuted by the New England Puritan establishment. 

 

Roger and Mary soon decided to leave Massachusetts for Plymouth Colony, which was considered a more tolerant community.  In Plymouth, without an official position in the church, Williams was accountable to no one, yet he was loved and respected and often encouraged to preach during services and to debate Scripture at other times.  His profound liberalism seemed to have found a home in Plymouth.  Some, however, expressed doubts.  The Plymouth Governor described Williams as "a man godly and zealous, having many precious parts but very unsettled in judgement".

 

One day, as Roger and Mary left the Plymouth meeting house, John and Mary Winslow hurried to catch them.  John had listened with increasing admiration to Williams' sermons and felt affinity with the notions Williams expressed.  Roger's ideas about the separation of church and state resonated with John.  John believed the Bay Colony erred in mixing the purity of the church with the essential "dirtiness" of government.  He also admired the grace and simplicity with which Williams approached religion and his tolerance for weakness in others.  The two men also shared a common interest in trade.  While John traded primarily with European merchants, Williams had begun to trade with the Native Americans. 

 

"Reverend Williams," called John, "have you a moment to speak?" 

 

"Certainly, John," Williams answered, but please call me Roger, I am no reverend here, merely a newly arrived pilgrim, seeking like you to learn the will of God and embody it here on earth."

 

"Roger, then," said John, pleased with the young Minister's humility, "I am intrigued by your trading activities with the Wampanoag and wish to learn more about them when convenient." 

 

"Ah yes, the topic does seem to inspire much interest among our brethren.  What is it you wish to know?"

 

"As you may know, we Winslows have long been merchants.  We traded extensively in England, and now my brothers and I continue to trade with the European ships that come hither and also with other New World colonies.  We have not traded with the Natives, however.  Not from any lack of desire, but rather because we did not understand enough about them to trade effectively."

 

"And that, dear John, is precisely why I go amongst the Natives and trade with them," replied Williams.  "My ignorance of their ways is an excuse to visit them, and trading provides an opportunity to engage with them.  Puritan ministers consider it our duty to educate the Natives and share God's word with them; surely, they are as deserving of His blessing as we are.  Yet, how can I spread the word of God when I cannot speak their languages, when I do not know their ways, when I lack any understanding of them?  Thus, I go to them and trade and meet their leaders, both spiritual and laic.  I dine with their wives and children and observe their rites and traditions.  Doing so, I better understand their ways and better know how to show them God's way."

 

"I see, that seems practical. I further understand that you have become proficient in some of the native tongues.  Is this also part of a plan to teach them Scripture?" asked John.

 

"Yes, it is.  I am happiest when sharing the Gospel and its teachings, both with Natives and my fellow Christians.  Yet, how can I do this, that is, how can I explain Scriptures to a people who cannot comprehend what I am trying to explain?  I believe culture and language to be wholly related.  In order to persuade a people to love the Lord, I must use not only their language to communicate, I must also understand how my words will fall within their cultural traditions.  The one without the other would be just as meaningless as trying to speak to them in English."

 

Having broached the subject broadly, John now voiced the question he really wanted answered.  "And do you believe, Roger, that the Natives are capable of understanding the Gospel and embracing it?"

 

Williams understood exactly what John meant and respected him for having the courage to ask it aloud.  While 17th century Europeans verbally expressed the belief that all men were created equal, in practice most people, Puritans included, considered the Indians to be inferior.  After all, they argued, they had not developed agricultural and commercial communities, nor commercial endeavors such as shipping and production, nor towns and roads, nor a written language with books and other documents, nor many of the other things Europeans considered necessary to an advanced civilization.  On one hand, Puritans piously stated their belief that Natives were equal in God's eyes, yet at the same time, they referred to them as "savages", "bloodthirsty wild men", and worse.

 

"I doubt it not, John," stated Williams.  "I cannot claim to know why the Natives have not developed the things that Europeans cherish.  Perhaps they lack desire for commercial goods and so never developed the skill to make those things.  Perhaps they value their oral traditions so highly that they did not feel a need to develop written language.  Certainly, their way of life, which calls for moving from place to place with the seasons, argues against the acquiring material things.  But once the Natives have access to the knowledge we can share with them, I believe they will be equal to us in every sense, and I further believe that it is our duty to deliver that knowledge and then share with them our place on God's earth."

 

"And what," continued John, "does this mean for the land?  Is not our place in reality their place?  By what right do our kings give charters and grants to these lands?  And what about individual ownership?  Most people think that, so long as we obtain deeds proving that we have paid for the land, we are treating the Natives as equals and honoring their rights, especially when the land lies empty.  But if you are correct, Roger, does this not bring into doubt the validity of these deeds?  Might one argue that, since the Natives do not understand the value of the land to us, they are being taken advantage of?  Is it possible that we are usurping the Indians' rights to their own land?"

 

Mary Winslow glanced nervously at Mary Williams.  Her family had fled from London to Leiden and then to Plymouth to escape persecution.  She still bore the scars of being taunted and belittled for beliefs that lay outside common convention.  Marriage to John Winslow and acceptance into his socially, politically, and commercially important family had begun to allay her fear of persecution, but it would be many years before she would feel completely confident voicing opinions that questioned established beliefs.  Furthermore, as a mature wife and mother, she had learned to temper the outspokenness and spontaneity of her youth.  What, she wondered, must life be like for Mary Williams, married to a man like Roger, who, kind and intelligent as he is, seems destined to run afoul of New England's religious authorities with his radical beliefs?

 

Williams replied slowly, choosing his words carefully, "These are not easy questions, John.  My heart and my mind tell me something is amiss in our dealings with the Natives.  If they were Englishmen, even of the poorest sort, their rights to the land would be strictly observed.  I fear our actions today will have serious repercussions in years to come - repercussions that will affect our children and our children's children.  Woe be to him that treads on the rights of others," he concluded somberly.  Then, casting his somber tone aside, he said, "But enough of solemn thoughts," and placing his hand on John's shoulder he continued, "Come, join Mary and me for the midday meal.  We should spend the afternoon talking of children and hunting and more agreeable matters on this glorious day."

 

Mary Winslow's concerns about Roger's beliefs eventually spread throughout the community, and he, sensing that tolerance for his views was declining, decided to move again.  After two years in Plymouth, Williams requested dismissal from the church there so he might move back to Salem.  While many voiced dismay at the idea of losing Williams, Elder William Brewster argued in favor of allowing him to depart.  Reflecting upon Reverend Williams' departure, Brewster, whose wise counsel had guided the Plymouth Pilgrims for so many years concluded, I am sorry to see him go.  He is a good man, and wise beyond his years.  But he is not prudent, and he allows his mind, which greatly surpasses those of lesser men, to leap beyond those lesser men in progressive thought. The Bay Colony, being much larger than Plymouth, has more men who are his intellectual peers and can provide him with wiser counsel than we here.  

Yet Roger Williams had made an impression, and some Plymouth families even followed him to Salem. 

 

John and Mary Winslow, though they considered Roger a profound thinker and a good friend, did not move to Salem.  Immersed in the Plymouth community, in the company of their children, the Winslow brothers, and their many Pilgrim friends, John and Mary remained in Plymouth for another 24 years, before eventually moving to Boston to better oversee John's trading empire.

 

Twenty-three

Reverend Thomas Hooker

 

The next great Puritan divine to come to Massachusetts Bay Colony and find it lacking was Reverend Thomas Hooker.  Like many Puritan ministers, Reverend Hooker was educated at Emmanuel College, Cambridge, considered by conservative theologians to be a hotbed of radical (Puritan) thought. 

 

Thomas was among the guests at the Sempringham meeting, but he did not join the Winthrop Fleet believing that he could outsmart the authorities, at least for a while.  For a time, his popularity and prudence (using the Book of Common Prayer during sermons to dupe Church of England watchdogs) protected him from persecution.  Nonetheless, the authorities considered him to be particularly dangerous because he attracted an unusual number of followers, and younger ministers flocked to hear him preach.  He preached differently from others; he freely drew on emotion to personalize and enliven his sermons.  He encouraged younger ministers to use emotion to touch their congregants' hearts.  He did not use the pulpit to strike fear into Puritan hearts as did later evangelicals, rather he used passionate speech to comfort his congregants, assuring them that they would achieve salvation.

 

When the Anglican William Laud rose to the position of Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas realized that his future was in serious jeopardy and accepted that he must emigrate.  Ordered to appear before the Court of High Commission to defend his practices and teachings, Thomas agreed to appear and even paid a bond to guarantee his appearance.  Such court appearances often led to immediate imprisonment, a risk Hooker would not take.  Forfeiting the bond, he fled to Holland.  Holland, however, was under intense pressure from England to deny sanctuary to reformist ministers, and Thomas soon concluded that he would have to emigrate to New England.  The decision to leave England felt bittersweet.  Thomas would be leaving many loved ones behind, and the one blood relative who had already emigrated to New England, his sister, Ann (Hooker) Alcock, had died soon after arriving with the Winthrop Fleet.  Nonetheless, he decided to sail with his family to New England and join the many friends and followers who had already moved there.

 

Thomas left Holland early in 1633 intending to stop briefly in England to put his affairs in order and to coordinate with a Reverend Stone, who had agreed to accompany him to Massachusetts.  However, the English authorities discovered the plan, and when Thomas arrived at Stone's residence in Towcester, he was surprised by the Archbishop's henchmen and fled.  Wearing disguises and hurrying under cover of darkness toward the coast, the Reverends Hooker and Stone and their families boarded the Griffin, a 300-ton ship docked at Downs.  Soon after departing, the Griffin and her 200 passengers made for the open sea, sailing right by the Isle of Wight where officers of the High Commission Court lay in wait on the assumption that the ship would stop to take on supplies.  Hooker and Stone had left England just in time, for soon after their departure, the Privy Council issued an order to stay all ships that were suspected of carrying "distinguished opponents of the Crown", a description which surely encompassed them both.  Upon arriving in Massachusetts, both men settled in Newtown where they were quickly ordained as Pastor and Teacher. 

 

Years later, when asked to describe their narrow escape from the English officials, Thomas would smile and say, "Well, that is a fine tale, indeed.  There I was, newly arrived from Holland, a fugitive in my own country, sitting at good Reverend Stone's table when the pursuivants came for me, knocking at the door, BANG, BANG, BANG.[iii]  Reverend Stone, pipe in hand, bade me hide myself and answered the door.  'Where is Thomas Hooker?' demanded the pursuivants.  Samuel exhaled, and batting not an eye replied, 'Reverend Thomas Hooker?  I saw him not an hour ago in town; ye might seek him there.'  And off rushed the officers, determined to catch me where Reverend Stone indicated he had seen me."

 

Inevitably, his interlocutors would ask, "But Reverend Mr. Hooker, was it not wrong of Reverend Stone to lie to the pursuivants?" 

 

Thomas would then reply, "What lie?  Samuel spoke the truth.  He had indeed seen me an hour before at the place he described.  He merely neglected to mention that I had even more recently joined him in his home."

 

"Ah!" the listeners would cry in dawning comprehension.  Reverend Stone had not committed a lie direct but rather a lie of omission.  His artful response, which led the pursuivants away from Hooker, demonstrated just how Puritan ministers had learned to dissemble in order to avoid capture, imprisonment, and torture.  During the early 17th century, these ministers used persuasive discourse, a skill which often included putting forth certain facts while omitting others.  In response to a Church and government that required ministers to appear before ecclesiastical courts to profess their beliefs, to swear oaths of fidelity, and to make pledges regarding the content of their preaching, the ministers used the art of dissembling to say what their opponents wanted to hear without trampling their own values or compromising their own beliefs.  It is doubtful that any of these men enjoyed the need for such dissembling, but many a life was saved by it. 

 

In his personal life, Thomas waited many years to find someone to provide the love, friendship, and intellectual stimulation for which he longed.   He was 35 when he married Susanna Garbrand, a personal companion to an early patron's wife.  From a young age, Susanna held to her convictions, and her station as servant to another woman did not prevent her from speaking up when her mistress acted wrongfully.  On one occasion, when her mistress blasphemed in front of a visiting minister, Susanna rebuked her saying, "Mistress, you have spoken to this good minister in an unseemly manner."  Those in attendance held their breath expecting the high-strung lady to chastise her maid, but in fact, Susanna's mistress merely lowered her head and replied, "Yes, I believe I did."  While the lady backed down before Susanna, there is no record of her apologizing to the minister.

 

Susanna bore Thomas eight children over the 25 years of their marriage, five of whom lived to adulthood.  The youngest of the surviving children, a son named Samuel, was born around the time of the family's emigration and would eventually become a popular and respected minister like his father.

 

In Newtown, Reverend Hooker reacquainted himself with his congregation and introduced himself to those Newtown residents he did not know.  Following New England tradition, when gathering his church Thomas asked prospective members to explicitly covenant with the church.  This covenant consisted of three promises: to obey God's will, to teach one's children to obey God's will, and to concern oneself with the spiritual support and well-being of all other members of the Church.[iv] 

 

Requiring a public covenant differed from the English system where residency in a particular town automatically granted a Puritan membership in the Puritan church.  New England Puritans followed the tradition of covenanting because they believed that by publicly promising to actively pursue a state of grace, members of the church would be more likely to adhere to God's laws. 

Thomas' newfound tranquility did not last long.  No sooner had he gathered his church and been called to serve and ordained, when trouble arose in the person of Roger Williams, who had returned to Salem after two years in Plymouth.  In Massachusetts Bay Colony, Roger again became a Bay Colony problem.  In Salem, Williams continued to claim ever more publicly that the King lacked the right to grant land in New England.  This stirred controversy both in New England and in Old England.  Landholders feared their land grants and those of their children might be rescinded, while the colonial government viewed Roger's arguments as a threat to its legitimacy.  In Old England, the controversy fueled anger against Puritans at home and abroad. 

 

Williams also continued to speak out against King Charles and accused him, in the colorful language of the times, of being too lenient towards the Catholic Church.[v]  When Williams was again offered the Teacher's position at Salem, he took it and gained a bully pulpit from which to share his unorthodox views.  When word leaked that he had written a treatise explaining these views, the Governor asked to see it.  After reading it and discussing it with various officials, the Governor summoned Williams before the Court, where the greatest minds of New England, including Thomas Hooker, sought to show him the errors in his thinking.  Persuaded, Williams capitulated; he apologized and even offered to burn his book.  In the face of his evident contrition, the Court chose to go lightly with him.

 

Reverend Hooker breathed a sigh of relief when the Williams situation appeared to resolve itself.  He soon found, however, that Roger Williams was as stubborn as Hooker's own dear wife, Susanna, and Williams' contrition would soon evaporate leading to greater discord and upheaval in the Bay Colony.

 

Twenty-four

Two Choices: Accept and Conform or Question and Change?

 

Roger Williams was not the first person to question the Bay Colony's methods.  The basic question revolved around conformity: was it desirable and was it necessary?  To what point should a church official conform with the standards of the young government for the purpose of stabilizing it?  Alternatively, at what point was it his duty to object to the standards for the purpose of guiding the fledgling government toward a more righteous path?  In Massachusetts Bay Colony, the incumbent government preferred acceptance and conformity, while many outside the power hierarchy preferred the freedom to question and change.  Governor Winthrop and Roger Williams represented these polar extremes.  From the moment he expounded his vision of the "City on a Hill", Winthrop espoused conformity.  Confident that his vision for the community was correct, he expected others to strictly adhere to it.  Seeking to create a stable and orderly community, he instituted a system where moral authority flowed from the top down.  At the top were the governor, the magistrates, and the ministers.  Together they resolved matters of import, and town representatives to the General Court were expected to comply with the "wisdom" emanating from the top. 

 

Roger Williams, on the other hand, valued a more individualistic approach.  He believed that only through thorough questioning could man achieve a better state, and he did not embrace a rule, theory, or method without first subjecting it to thorough analysis.  He disagreed that authority should flow from the top down.  Like Hooker, he preferred a more democratic form of governance, although Williams' democratic tendencies were in full bloom, while Hooker's yet remained in the bud.  Inevitably these two vastly different systems, one authoritarian and rigid, the other democratic and fluid, would come into conflict to the point where their proponents could no longer co-exist in the same community.[vi]  Williams' ongoing challenges to authority, criticizing the King, questioning the legitimacy of English land holdings, declaring that magistrates should not accept oaths of allegiance from unrepentant men (which in practice meant that many men would fall outside the jurisdiction of government control), and insisting that the churches had the right to censure the government when they felt it governed wrongly (seen by the authorities as a clear attempt at ecclesiastical interference in matters of government) eventually became too much for the colonial government to bear.  When Roger put the moral authority of the church above that of the government, he crossed a line, and the colonial government decided that persuasion, exhortation, and chastisement had all been ineffective in guiding him to reason.  Williams refused to conform, and therefore he posed a problem that Massachusetts Bay Colony could no longer afford to have.  For the moment, the authorities chose to deescalate the conflict in public, but in private they concocted a long-range plan.

 

Twenty-five

The Great Hurricane of 1635

 

Meanwhile, on August 15, 1635 a meteorological event occurred that shook the fledgling New England community to its core.  A freak northern hurricane slammed into the colonies, possibly the strongest to ever strike New England, heralding the terrible winter that lay ahead.  When the hurricane made landfall, the storm surge approached 20 feet.  Over 45 people lost their lives.  Crops, timber houses, wigwams, and swaths of forest were flattened. 

 

The Angel Gabriel, a ship of 240 tons said to have been commissioned in 1615 for Sir Walter Raleigh's last South American expedition of 1617 and originally named the Starre and later the Jason, had recently arrived off the New England Coast.  A sturdy ship, she could defend herself against attackers and was built to withstand turbulent seas.  However, at 20 years, she was no longer capable of great speed, and this became problematic on her final journey.  The Angel Gabriel and the James departed England during the summer of 1635.  That same week three other ships, bound for Newfoundland, also set off into the North Atlantic.  They were the Elizabeth, the Mary, and the Diligence.  Passengers on the five ships had become acquainted while they awaited favorable winds in England.  Seven weeks later, as the ships approached the New World, they observed with foreboding a large storm front brewing to the south near the New England coastline.  The three Newfoundland-bound ships, smaller and quicker, decided to try and outrun the storm.  Unfurling every yard of sailcloth, they raced westward and gained shelter off Newfoundland.  The Angel Gabriel and the James were not so lucky. 

 

After many weeks at sea, the passengers of the James were ecstatic to find the end of their journey in sight.  Strong winds blew offshore, however, and the ship was forced to anchor just north of New England for several nights, unable to reach land.  On one of those nights, Thomas Willett of Plymouth Plantation, who had just been evicted from Plymouth's fishing station at Penobscot by the French, approached the James in his shallop and, upon hailing the Master, requested transport to Boston.  No doubt Thomas thought that he would be safer on the much larger ship given the magnitude of the storm.   The Master, a convivial sort, agreed, and Thomas tied up to the James' stern.  The shallop contained all his worldly goods, the goods of the three Pilgrims with him, and other property belonging to the Plymouth Pilgrims.  Boarding the James, the men noted with consternation how the winds increased in strength, and the seas roiled malevolently around them.  Later that evening, as the James heaved and plunged in the waves, the forces of nature wrought their havoc, and the ship, anchored off the Isles of Shoals, broke anchor.  Tossed by waves, rolling and yawing from side to side, she came close to crashing into the rocky coast.   At the last minute, when all seemed lost, fate intervened and turned the ship aside.  When the storm abated, the James turned south and hobbled into Boston Harbor, having lost her masts, her cables, and her anchors as well as Thomas Willett's shallop, which had broken away from the James and sunk to the ocean floor.

 

The Angel Gabriel, meanwhile, anchored in Pemaquid Harbor, off modern-day Maine, and most of her passengers and crew managed to disembark and take shelter with the settlers in the village.  During the frightful night, the ship broke anchor and sank. 

 

The following morning, John Cogswell opened the front door of his host's home in the village of Pemaquid (Bristol, Maine) and surveyed the damage wrought by the Great Hurricane.  Nestled in a grove of pine trees overlooking the harbor, the house had fared well given the force of the hurricane.  A typical 17th century structure, the home lacked porches, dormers, decorative overhangs, lacy woodwork, and other ornamental features that could easily blow away in a storm.  Its simple, sturdy frame remained intact.  However, the home's residents and guests fared less well.  A successful and self-confident London merchant, John had survived bubonic plague, smallpox, devastating fires that wiped out entire neighborhoods, as well as the odd storm and occasional snowfall, but he had never experienced anything like this.  The entire household spent the hours from midnight to dawn cringing as they heard tree branches moaning, cracking, and thudding as they crashed to the ground, shutters and doors rattling within their frames, shrieking winds, rain relentlessly pounding the structure, and several unidentifiable sounds, which may have been the most unsettling sounds of all.

 

Surveying Pemaquid from the front door that morning, John absorbed the eerie silence.  Few people moved about and even fewer animals.  Great swaths of trees, their remaining branches oddly intertwined, curved in upon themselves.  Others lay scattered on the ground.  Once neat fences now lacked sections or were entirely missing.  Roofs, torn from their buildings, appeared in unexpected locations.  Glancing toward the harbor, his worst fears were realized.  The Angel Gabriel was nowhere to be seen.

 

Elizabeth Cogswell laid her hand on John's shoulder.  Although she knew the loss was great, in her heart she felt joy and relief that their family had survived the storm.  Poor John, she thought, he must feel the full weight of our losses.

 

"What shall we do?" she asked.

 

Staring at the sea that still rolled and heaved, John replied, "Well, I suppose we'll have to try and find the ship and see if anything can be salvaged.  If she ran aground, some furniture may have survived.  But if she broke against the rocks, we have lost all.  I'm afraid we have lost our livestock and food stores.  Thankfully both are easily replaced, though I begrudge the need to pay for them again.  I am comforted that we sent some cattle and mares aboard a different ship else they, too would have been lost."

 

"Did anyone remain with the ship overnight?" she asked.

 

John had hoped to avoid that question.  Reaching for her hand, he pulled her closer.  "Aye, Elizabeth.  Some seamen remained behind to secure her.  Also, a few passengers took their chances on board."  Elizabeth pulled away and looked at him sharply.  Noting the concern in her eyes, he added quickly, "Nay, do not fear.  Our men Haines and Tarbox did not remain on the ship.  They came ashore and are no doubt safe and sound."

 

Closing her eyes and murmuring a short prayer, she replied, "You must go and do what you can.  The children and I will pray for all who were lost."

 

"Yes, I'll go immediately.  I merely wanted to see your face before venturing out."  These are the times that test men's souls, he thought, turning away with heavy heart.

 

John joined the men gathering at the dock.  Arranging themselves into groups, they began to search the coastline for wreckage.  Before long, they found the Angel Gabriel - or what was left of her.  She had broken into thousands of pieces that lay scattered in the turbulent turf and along the shore.  A once proud ship, reduced to rubble.  As they waded through the surf, the men retrieved corpses along with personal property.

 

That night John surveyed the items rescued from the sea.  While the livestock was lost, many pieces of furniture had survived, including Elizabeth's Turkey-work carpet, a favorite from home.  Limp and salt-ridden, it would need a good wash and airing to remove the saltwater and bits of detritus clinging to it, but like the Cogswells, the rug had survived.  In the days that followed, John more than once fell to the ground in prayer, quietly communicating his thanks to God for showing mercy to his family, a good omen he hoped would follow them to Ipswich, where they would settle.[vii]  

[i] See John M. Barry, Roger Williams and the Creation of the American Soul for an excellent biography of Roger Williams.
[ii] The two primary positions in the Puritan church were that of Pastor and Teacher.  They were equal in rank and respect and both had overlapping duties in the church, such as offering sermons and ministering to the community.  Typically, the Teacher taught churchgoers about faith and doctrine, while the Pastor laid bare the pitfalls that awaited the sinner.  The Teacher appealed to reason while the Pastor appealed to emotion. 
[iii] "Pursuivants" were junior officers.
[iv] This was often done as a group, but in some communities the honor of being among the first to covenant was granted to certain chosen people.  In these communities, seven "pillars of the church" (people seen by their peers as particularly saintly) were invited to submit to examination by neighboring ministers, and if they were found worthy, became the first to covenant.  Later the wider community was invited to join in the covenant. 
[v] Specifically, Williams accused the King of committing "fornication with the whore," with which words he not only attacked the Catholic Church, but also the King's wife, a Catholic.
[vi] To their credit, Winthrop and Williams, two great men on an intellectual collision course, remained friends.  Even when Winthrop realized that Roger Williams would have to leave the Colony for the sake of community cohesion, he interceded on William's behalf, warning the latter to flee to avoid forced deportation by the General Court.
[vii] John and Elizabeth Cogswell's good fortune eventually became the good fortune of the young United States of America, whose 2nd President, John Adams, descended from John and Elizabeth through their son William.

PART FIVE

Settling the Connecticut Valley

 

In 1631 a Connecticut River Sachem had invited the English to settle the Connecticut River Valley, offering an initial supply of corn and an annual gift of 80 beaver skins.  What motivated this odd request?  Apparently, the Sachem saw the English as the lesser of two evils.  Another tribe, the powerful Pequot, desiring to control the Connecticut River Valley, had begun to conquer the weaker river tribes one by one.  The River Sachem saw the English as a deterrant to Pequot incursions.

 

The Europeans agreed to consider the invitation.  Governor Winthrop ultimately declined to send settlers, but Governor Winslow of Plymouth established a trading post on the river near what is now Windsor, Connecticut.  At about the same time, the Dutch, wanting to expand their North American territory beyond New Amsterdam (now New York), erected a fort some 10 miles south of the trading post and purchased land at the river's mouth.   Outside of some initial skirmishes between the two European groups, no major conflicts developed, although tensions simmered just under the surface as the various groups jockeyed for control of the developing territories. 

 

By 1634, the Massachusetts Bay residents of Dorchester, Newtown, and Watertown, frustrated with the poor soil and geographical constraints of the region, and tired of the constant rumors, divisiveness, and competition for political and spiritual superiority that had become prevalent in the Bay Colony, petitioned the General Court for permission to move to the Connecticut Valley.  After initially refusing the petition, in 1635 the General Court conceded and granted permission for some of the petitioners to relocate to the valley. 

 

Compared to Massachusetts Bay Colony, the Connecticut Valley represented the wild frontier.  Massachusetts had developed towns, ports, farms, churches, forts, homes, gardens, and orchards.  Fields had been cleared.  The taming of the nearby forests had begun.  Fifteen years after the founding of Plymouth, and five after the settlement of Massachusetts Bay, the eastern part of New England seemed downright, well, settled.  Connecticut, in contrast, was wooded and untamed.  Local tribes had cleared some planting areas prior to suffering a population decline due to a smallpox epidemic; however, these areas were few.  In terms of geographic and political advantages, on the other hand, the soil in Connecticut was richer and less rocky, and there was more of it; equally important, there existed an opportunity to create a new religious community with a less authoritarian power structure than was developing in Massachusetts. 

 

That summer of 1635 an advance party from Dorchester visited the valley and chose Matianuck (Windsor) as their settlement place.  Unfortunately, yet another group of English patentees under the leadership of a certain Stiles – of the Providence Company - arrived at almost the same time and presented their own claim, which appeared legitimate.  The Dorchester advance party chased them off anyway.  The Stiles party returned, however, and they are considered the original settlers of Windsor. 

 

Luckily, the Plymouth trading community welcomed the disappointed Dorchester people into their little domain.  Their warmth cooled, however, when they realized that the Dorchester people meant to inhabit the place and eject the traders from the land.  Apparently, the Dorchester group, saintly enough while attending church services, comported themselves somewhat differently outside the walls of the meetinghouse.  In fact, they described the proposed settlement site as the "land upon which God cast us," a description the Plymouth people derided since the choice seemed less of God's making than of man's.  In the end both Plymouth Colony and the Providence Company (under Stiles) vacated their claims, and Connecticut became an independent colony and home to many of these early settlers.

 

Before that, however, came the usual birth pains attendant to New World migration.  The pioneers in this new endeavor suffered the most.  Once again, the unfortunate Dorchester group, having been unceremoniously dumped by Captain Squeb on the Nantasket beach rather than delivered to the Charles River, bore the brunt of the migration experience.

 

 

Twenty-six 

Reverend Warham Leads his Flock Westward

 

Led by their pastor, Reverend John Warham, most of the Dorchester group, about 60 people, journeyed overland to the valley in late October 1635, bringing livestock, clothing, and household furniture on their journey overland.   Other items and winter provisions were sent by boat.  Before the overland travelers reached the Connecticut River in late October, snow began to fall, making travel difficult and chilling the would-be settlers to the bone.  Arriving at Windsor, they found the advance party's preparations woefully inadequate.  Worse, the river froze mid-November, and the boat carrying the household goods and winter supplies became ice-bound and could not reach them. 

 

In a desperate bid for survival, the settlers sorted themselves into three groups, each of which would try a different survival strategy.  In late November, Reverend Warham's group tried to retrace their steps over land and return to Dorchester.  One person fell through the ice at the outset and drowned, and the remainder survived the first night only because they found a wigwam to huddle in.  These folk struggled eastward covering 106 miles in 10 days, finally arriving hungry and half-frozen to Dorchester. 

 

The second group of 70 men, women, and children, went looking for their ship, frozen fast somewhere along the winding river.  While they never found that ship, they did find the 60-ton Rebecca, also surprised by the early winter and frozen in the ice.   When a late season rainstorm freed her from the ice, they boarded her and made for Massachusetts, arriving some five days later.  Most suffered from starvation, exposure, and other miscellaneous ailments. 

 

The final group of settlers, who had remained behind in Windsor throughout the winter, suffered in equal proportion, surviving on acorns, the meager fruits of their hunting, and the gifts of Native Americans while sheltering alongside sputtering fires nourished by damp logs and twigs.

 

With spring came new vigor and resolution.  Reverend Warham and his group, undeterred by the disastrous expedition the previous fall, returned to the Connecticut Valley and installed themselves at Matianuck, which they named Dorchester in defiance of the Plymouth people's choice of Windsor (which name was eventually reinstated).  Arriving with a three-year-old toddler and a history of heartache, Reverend Warham's luck soon changed for the better.  He met and married a widow named Jane Newberry, who had two young daughters and five stepchildren from her first marriage.  In the blink of an eye, the Reverend's quiet household changed from one of loneliness and grief to one exploding with the pattering feet and chattering tongues of eight children.  Over the following years, John and Jane Warham proceeded to have four daughters of their own, and while nothing could make up for the loss of his first wife and children, at last John Warham found joy and happiness in New England.

 

Twenty-seven 

Reverend Hooker Makes a Choice

 

 "The foundation of authority is laid, firstly, in the free consent of the people."

- Thomas Hooker

 

Meanwhile, back in Massachusetts, Thomas Hooker was tired of controversy and constant pressure to conform to ways that felt wrong.  The last time he was asked to counsel Roger Williams, a part of his ministry that he normally enjoyed, he followed the guidance of Scripture, first gently chastising Williams and then exerting increasing amounts of persuasive pressure, using rhetoric and logic to convince Williams to abandon his more extreme positions.  Marshalling all his intellect, knowledge, kindness, and passion, he tried to convince Williams that the young man's relentless onslaught against the Colony's norms was tearing the community apart.  In the end, his efforts did not persuade Williams to desist from his reckless behavior.  Thomas, unaccustomed to defeat, felt the weight of the world upon him.  Moreover, he had to concede that Roger Williams' own intellect, knowledge, and passion were persuasive in themselves, and Reverend Hooker began to see the appeal of Williams' arguments. 

 

Sitting one evening with Susanna, Thomas sighed, "My dear, I am weary.  I joined the ministry to guide the people of the community, to support those strong in their sainthood, and to redirect those who were weak in it.  To these ends I have directed all my reasoning and persuasive skills.  Yet I find that the theological disputation that I so enjoyed so as a young man thrills me no longer.  I simply cannot continue to engage in constant controversy.  I feel drained of all ability to lead a contemplative existence." 

 

Gazing distractedly into the corner of the room he asked, "How can I serve as a guide to the people when I scarce have time to think?  These many months of unrelenting disagreement have sown confusion in my mind.  Yet I find myself growing sympathetic to young Williams' ideas.  I feel a growing distance between my thinking and that of other men in this Colony.  Men whom I respect seem determined to place our theology and our governance on a collision course whose outcome strikes me as contrary to the will of God and the community's well-being.  Once seen, our differences cannot be unseen, and this burdens my soul for I came to New England to escape similar differences with our brethren in Old England."

 

Susanna sat before him holding young Samuel, a stout toddler of two years, on her lap.  She regarded Thomas carefully; he did look tired, but his tiredness seemed spiritual as well as physical.  She saw that his concerns ran deep and had shaken his famous tranquility.

 

"What has changed, then?  In Old England you often disputed with your colleagues.  Wherein lies the difference here in New England?" she asked.

 

Running a thin hand through his hair, dark and abundant, he responded, "I am not completely sure, but I have begun to think that our debates at home concerned only theology.  As ministers and teachers, we had little say in civil governance.  Well," he smiled wryly, "we had little say but that did not hinder us from speaking out anyway.  Yet, here the difference seems to be that, in creating the new government, the topics on which we might diverge have multiplied beyond anything we considered in Old England.  Every minister and magistrate feels free to question the authorities, which troubles me not much.  What troubles me is that I cannot find the easy agreement with my brethren that I used to cherish, and my doubts increase as to certain matters of civil authority."

 

"And Reverend Williams?" prompted Susanna.

 

He looked away, pensive.  "And the Williams matter has proven that the Governor and the Boston church will squash anything they perceive as presenting a threat to their civil and religious authority in Massachusetts Bay.  They have arrived at the limits of their tolerance, and that tolerance reaches not far."

 

Ever practical, Susanna suggested, "Let's be off to bed, then.  You need rest, and a rested mind thinks best." 

 

Underlying their conversation was the unspoken matter of further emigration.  Many members of the Reverend's flock had complained for some time about the lack of quality grazing and agricultural land in Newtown.  Having been settled after Charlestown, which lay to the east, and Watertown, which lay to the west, Newtown's original land grant consisted of the land left over between the two older communities.  The result was an oddly configured tract, thinly stretched out along the northern bank of the Charles River with an east-west dimension eight times its north-south dimension.  This caused inconveniences and disputes as some farmers, especially the more recently arrived, had to travel great distances to arrive at their planting fields, which were placed at extreme ends of the grant.  Furthermore, as the land grant's total acreage limited the settlers' ability to increase their land holdings, residents knew that any land they acquired in the future for themselves or for their heirs would be in a less favorable area.  Finally, when Newtown residents formally complained to the Court about their land problems, the Court granted them permission to explore the possibility of removing west to the Connecticut River. 

 

However, when the Newtown residents requested permission to actually remove to Connecticut, the Court denied their petition.  This occurred through the type of political shenanigan that Reverend Hooker found so frustrating.  The Court had been recently enlarged, adding deputies from the various towns.  When the Court voted on the Newtown petition, the majority of those present voted in favor of allowing the Newtown residents to emigrate to the Connecticut Valley.  However, Winthrop, who had been voted out of the governorship but still served as an Assistant, wanted to prevent Reverend Hooker from leaving Massachusetts Bay.  Thomas' value to the Bay was twofold: first, he provided important spiritual guidance to Puritans there, and second, he was so beloved and respected in England that he served as a magnet to attract additional Puritan immigrants.  In Winthrop's eyes any maneuver that prevented Reverend Hooker from leaving Massachusetts Bay was worth undertaking.  So, soon after the vote, Winthrop objected to its validity, noting that the Massachusetts Bay patent required a quorum of six Assistants to pass any motion.  Since fewer than six had been present for the vote, Winthrop convinced several Assistants to veto the motion on the grounds of the patent violation.  To soften the blow to the Newtonians, the Court offered to enlarge the Newtown land grant.  Winthrop thought the problem solved, but this exercise - or "abuse" - of civil authority was likely one of the "differences" Thomas had in mind when he considered leaving the Bay Colony.

 

Adding insult to injury, the General Court granted Watertown and Dorchester residents the right that had been denied Newtown, that is, the right to emigrate.  True, the ruling required the Watertown and Dorchester people to stay within the bounds of Massachusetts Bay Colony, but both groups ignored that restriction and went into the Connecticut River Valley.  This turned out to be more than enough for the Newtown Puritans, and that October, having sold their homes and land, about 60 people journeyed overland to establish a new town on the Connecticut River.  They settled on the present-day site of Hartford, home to the Suckiaug tribe.

 

At about the same time, Massachusetts authorities received the welcome news that a well-regarded Minister named Shepard would soon emigrate to Massachusetts Bay along with his followers.  When this group of immigrants arrived, they found Newtown to their liking and decided to settle there, solving the problem of the flight of the former residents and reducing the pressure on Thomas Hooker to remain in the Colony.  By May of the following year, 1636, Thomas and Susanna Hooker and their five children, including little Samuel, now a toddler of three, packed up and travelled to join their friends in their new settlement at Hartford.

 

Traveling by foot and wagon along the ancient native trail that became known as the "Old Connecticut Path", the Hookers and their company of 100 men, women, and children headed west along the northern bank of the Charles River driving 160 head of cattle before them, widening the path as they traveled along it.  Native Americans had chosen the route carefully, avoiding the marshy areas close to the river and seeking out the shallowest and narrowest parts of the streams to ford.  Here too, Europeans benefitted from Native American wisdom and knowledge of the land that the immigrants had chosen to call home.   The Hooker party made the journey without incident, although Susanna, suffering an unspecified malady, traveled in a litter.  Arriving at Windsor, the party visited with the Dorchester people on the river's eastern shore. Upon leaving Windsor, the Hookers crossed the river and turned southward, soon reaching their friends in the new settlement at Hartford.  The 100-mile journey had taken two weeks.

 

The advance party had laid out Hartford's basic design and built a few primitive structures around a town green, where the meetinghouse would also be built.  Thomas and Susanna surveyed the large house lot reserved for them with pleasure.  While not concerned with material wealth, they were touched that the townspeople had been so generous with their land allotment.  The location, on the north bank of the Little River, which fed into the Connecticut River from the west, was appealing as well.[i]  The corner lot faced both Main Street, running south to north, and what is today Arch Street, the road that ran east to west along the north bank of the Little River.  Reverend Stone, who had frustrated the English pursuivants in their pursuit of Thomas in England, received a lot directly across Main Street.  John and Rachel Steele received a home lot on Main Street near the Hooker's lot.

 

Once settled in Connecticut, Thomas Hooker devoted himself to the pastoral care of his congregation.  No longer sidetracked by petty political infighting, he spent much of each day developing and writing the sermons that he would preach on the Sabbath and lecture days.[ii]  As a minister, Thomas had always been a bit of a contradiction.  While sought after as a thought leader on matters of religious theory and doctrine, he was also dedicated to the direct pastoral care of his congregation and often made his sermons highly personal – to the point that he would sometimes speak directly to individual congregants during church services. 

 

"A spade is a spade, and a drunkard is a drunkard," he would respond when Susanna suggested that he restrain himself from admonishing specific individuals from the pulpit, "there is no point in ignoring the fact, and the sinner will not be redeemed if he cannot acknowledge his weakness."[iii]

 

Thomas Hooker's Religious Beliefs

 

17th century Puritan thought centered on the idea that certain promises existed between God and his people.  Chief among these was the "Covenant of Grace," which was the promise God made to send his spirit (the Holy Spirit) to the people so that they might achieve a true state of belief and earn eternal life.  Under this theory, grace was a gift that God gave to his chosen people and in the true nature of a gift, could not be earned through good works, although some, including Thomas, did believe that sanctified behavior might reasonably be considered as evidence of having attained grace.  However, a Puritan was not automatically saved merely by the existence of the Covenant of Grace, rather he (or she) had to undergo examination by fellow church members to prove they had experienced a conversion of faith on a most fundamental level.  Only when the individual convinced the congregation of his true conversion would he be admitted to the church and "sainthood."  Thomas Hooker further differentiated between the Inward Covenant, between the individual soul and God, and the Outward Covenant, between a people and God.  Under the Inward Covenant God extended saving grace to the individual who proved his worthiness.  Under the Outward Covenant God both protected the chosen people from the ills of the world, such as natural disasters, and gave guidance as to how an individual might achieve saving grace. 

 

The attainment of grace by church members was the ultimate objective of the Puritan Church, but Thomas Hooker and his fellow Puritans believed the Church had a role in the community beyond the merely spiritual.  The second role of the Church was to promote stability and security in the community.  Puritans believed that by serving as an example of a godly life and preventing the less saintly citizens from succumbing to corruption, the Church encouraged civil peace, which reinforced government's law-enforcement efforts.  Finally, by promoting the love of God, the Church promoted brotherly love towards one's neighbors, and this again led to greater communal stability and security.  It also had the benefit of minimizing internal dissension among church members, an important goal at a time when many churches suffered strife and discord.

 

Thomas paid special attention to the spiritual condition of children.  He believed that parents were responsible for the spiritual guidance of their children, but he took extra pains with the children of people who had not attained grace as he knew these youngsters lacked spiritual guidance at home.   Thomas held children to similar standards to which he held adults; he treated them as young adults, insisting that they strive for spiritual improvement and refusing to attribute misbehavior to mere youthful indiscretion. 

 

Thomas held himself to the same standards that he held others, and he particularly struggled to control his own arrogance.  When he felt he had acted arrogantly, he admitted his weakness and apologized.  He shared these personal struggles with the children and was known for his honest assessment of his own weaknesses as well as his willingness to confess to error.  From the perspective of the child, this provided an excellent model of "contrition and humility" and an opportunity to feel valued and respected by a senior member of the community.

Years later his son Samuel, when asked about life with Thomas Hooker recalled an anecdote from his childhood. 

 

"A boy slightly older than I," he reported, "was well known in Hartford for his mischievous nature as well as an unfortunate tendency to damage the property of others.  The boy, Abraham, was accused of defacing a neighbor's wall.  My father, furious, admonished him when their paths next crossed.  Abraham repeatedly denied defacing the wall throughout my father's tirade.  Eventually, Abraham said, 'Reverend Hooker, you are angry, and you are not listening to me.'  He then turned and walked away.  Taken aback by the child's persistent claims of innocence and the rational nature of his response, my father made further inquiries and discovered, to his embarrassment, that none had witnessed Abraham defacing the wall.  Calling Abraham before him, my father, having controlled his ire, explained that since he could not prove that Abraham had defaced the wall, and since Abraham denied the accusation, then my father's only reasonable course of action was to believe the child.  He begged Abraham's forgiveness for failing to believe him and for having vehemently chided him.  Whether Abraham committed the act or not we shall never know, but 'tis certain that he learned a valuable lesson.  My father's response taught him that a truly great man is willing to admit when he errs and is also willing to beg forgiveness, even from a child, for every child is a creature of God and a valued citizen in his community.  In this way, I suspect my father made an even greater impression on Abraham than he would have had he been able to prove the misdeed and punish Abraham accordingly."

 

Thomas Hooker dedicated himself to educating the young.  In Old England, he opened a grammar school.  In Hartford, he also established schools for children and by virtue of his reputation was able to draw many fine teachers to the community.  These were often young men preparing for the ministry who wanted to study under the renowned Reverend Hooker.

 

Thomas Hooker's Political Legacy

 

While Thomas' most important role was as a spiritual leader, he also left an important political legacy.  In 1638 he preached a sermon about civic governance.  In that sermon, he uttered the now famous words, "The foundation of authority is laid firstly in the free consent of the people."  Thomas believed that per God's will, the people had the right to govern themselves, and that this was accomplished through the free election of their representatives and magistrates.  The "Fundamental Orders" of Connecticut Colony, adopted in 1639, represented the first written Constitution in the Colonies, and they incorporated Thomas' ideas about civic governance.

 

In addition to establishing the concept of free consent, Thomas advocated extending the franchise of self-governance to include all male property owners over the age of 21.  This differed significantly from the Massachusetts Bay Colony system where the franchise was limited to church members.  Thomas believed that the right of people to govern themselves in a civic body should be separate from the duty to worship God.  He did not believe that the covenant with God and the Church should be a prerequisite to a man's right to self-governance.  In fact, he believed that limiting the right of self-governance to church members would ultimately undermine civil government, since non-members that were prohibited from participating in governance would be less likely to cooperate in civic affairs.  The framers of the Connecticut Fundamental Orders agreed, and when they established the Orders, they extended the voting franchise to property-owning men, regardless of church membership. 

 

PART SIX 

Mixed Stories: One Ordinary Man, Two Banishments

 

The following stories reflect several events ranging from the ordinary to the extraordinary.  No narrative theme ties them together, and they are related here in loose chronological order. 

The first story is one of perseverance.  John Dwight, a man of no particular importance, arrives in Massachusetts and founds a dynasty that profoundly impacts New England history.  In the second story, Anne Hutchinson, a wealthy and beloved Puritan midwife, ventures beyond the approved behavior of 17th century women and sparks a violent religious schism.  She is eventually expelled from Massachusetts and meets a tragic end.  Finally, in the story of Reverend Roger Williams' banishment from Massachusetts, we reconnect with this famed theologian who refused to betray his principles and paid a high price for remaining true to them.

 

Twenty-eight

John Dwight of Dedham, Massachusetts Bay Colony

 

In 1635 John and Hannah Dwight and their children, Hannah (10), John (6), and Timothy (3), settled in Watertown, Massachusetts Bay Colony.  Like most English yeoman,[iv] John was not highly educated, likely attending petty school from the age of 5-7 before beginning to work full-time on the family farm.  John signed documents with a mark rather than his name.  He never undertook a responsibility requiring reading and writing abilities.  He left no written letters or documents.  His estate inventory included only one book, a Bible, which he might have read or, more likely, memorized. 

 

In the New World, John's educational level did not prove limiting.  His path to advancement was through hard work and participation in church, military, and civic affairs. 

Soon after the family's arrival, Watertown became concerned about overcrowding and stopped issuing land grants, effectively capping the amount of land anyone could acquire. Despite having already acquired several grants, John decided Watertown lacked sufficient economic opportunity to satisfy his ambitions, so along with several other men he petitioned the Massachusetts General Court for a new town grant southwest of Boston.  This petition was approved.  However, bureaucratic red tape prevented the proprietors from building on their land grant immediately.  In contrast to the early 1630's when new towns were settled quickly, by the mid 1630's the process of surveying land, petitioning the General Court, establishing agreements for governance, assembling a group of families wishing to move, and laying out a town could take years. 

 

The proprietor's first order of business was to create an agreement setting a basis for town governance.  In August 1636, they met and drafted a covenant to memorialize the terms under which they would live together.  This document, known as the Dedham Covenant, became a model for later town covenants.[v]

 

In September, the proprietors formally petitioned the Court to establish the new plantation.  Instead of respecting the acreage recommendation made by Colony surveyors, the men requested an enormous grant of about 200 square miles.  For some unknown reason, the Court agreed to this rather audacious request.  The area granted was so large, about 20 times the size of typical town grants, that over the following years several separate towns were carved out of the original grant.[vi]  The Court stood firm on one point, however, and refused to name the town "Contentment" as the proprietors had requested.  And so, the town of "Dedham" was born.

 

While they were at it, the proprietors also requested a four-year suspension of both Colony taxes and the requirement to perform military exercises beyond town limits.  These requests were common in the Colony because new proprietors needed to devote themselves to establishing their town and church, building homes, and planting fields.  The usual request was for a three-year suspension of these duties, however.  Having been generous with the grant's size, the Court balked at granting Dedham a full extra year of tax and military exemptions and thus limited these to the customary three-years. 

 

While they waited for the formalities to be settled, John and Hannah remained in Watertown working the land he had previously acquired there.  When plans for the new grant were finalized, John sold his Watertown properties, and the family moved to their new community.

 

John immediately embarked on a pattern of land and business acquisition.  His first venture was both ambitious and successful.  John, Samuel Morse, and two other men purchased a 300-acre tract of land adjacent to Dedham from a Mr. Dudley for a fraction of its value.  They knew, or speculated, that the town, hungry for additional land, would purchase the land from them.  In fact, the town purchased the tract for twice the price the four men paid for it within a matter of weeks.  Whether the men had insider information we'll never know, but it certainly was a fortuitous turn of events. 

 

"Hoho," crowed Samuel when the Deed was recorded, "A fine business indeed.  Mr. Dudley may be a gentleman, but he does not know the value of land in the colonies.  And though Dedham paid us twice the purchase price, I vow the town will see its value rise as more and more people come to settle here."

 

"I agree, Samuel, thank you for including me in the investment.  To what use do you recommend I put the gains if I might inquire?" asked John.

 

Samuel, 15 years older, believed John would go far and had often acted as a mentor to him.  This time was no different.  "Put it back in the land, John.  Many Puritans have come before us; many more will follow, and many non-Puritans will come.  There will always be demand for land, and we should buy as much as we can.  Doing so will assure our children's futures and their children's too.  What gains ye make, put them back into the land."

 

"Aye, I will," answered John with a grin.  "That notion suits me well.  Back home it was the gents who owned the land, and their children wanted not."

 

John's thoughts as he walked home remained on the land.  As a married man, he had received a 12-acre home lot in the most north-central part of town.  He had also been granted four acres of swamp land, which he had yet to clear.   Thank goodness this land lies far from Wigwam Swamp, he thought.  Wigwam Swamp was a vast, impenetrable morass of water and weeds from which predators were known to emerge without warning to stalk the unwary.  He also owned a "gratification lot", which the town granted him after annexing another lot he owned.  John gifted this lot to a friend who dithered and dallied about moving to Dedham.  Anxious to secure settlers, the town warned that the land would revert to the town if the friend failed to commence building a home within 6 days.  Remembering Samuel's advice about the value of land, John argued that he was not responsible for his friend's indecisiveness and that his generosity should not be punished.  He requested another lot in recompense for the town's taking.  Finding this argument persuasive, and not caring that John had gifted the lot away in the first place, the town granted him another lot.

 

One night as John and Hannah sat at their table after dinner, the fire crackled in the hearth and the children played on the floor, John winked at Hannah.  "It is time," he said in his most serious voice, "to begin thinking about adding to our family, Hannah.  What think ye?"

 

"Shh, John, the children!" she responded, though her cheeks flushed at his playful tone.

 

"They haven't a clue as to..." he started to say, but at that moment pandemonium broke loose as three-year old Mary began to run pell-mell around the table shrieking, "Aunty Nomie will get you, John!  You're mean, and Aunty Nomie is coming to get you."

 

As seven-year-old John gave chase, she began to squeal, "Help, Aunty Nomie, Aunty Nomie, Aunty Nomie, ahh!"

 

What on earth? thought John as he scooped Mary into his arms and tried to calm her.  "And who is Aunty Nomie, Sweet Pea?" he asked. 

 

Young John piped up, "No one, Papa.  She thinks we have an aunt named Nomie.  I keep telling her we do not, but she won't believe me."

 

Hmm, thought John, we have neither relative nor friend named Nomie.  Aunty Nomie, Aunty Nomie, Aunty…

 

"Oh," he glanced at Hannah and said aloud.  "Hannah, I think she means 'Antinomian,' and that means it is time for young frontier scamps to be abed."

 

Taking her cue, Hannah rose from the table and began gathering the children and their toys and herding them off to bed.  The Antinomian controversy was roiling New England at the time, and it was not something for young ears to hear. 

 

Twenty-nine

Anne Hutchinson and the Antinomian Crisis

 

The Problem of Anne Hutchinson

 

Theological and political crises plagued Massachusetts Bay Colony during the early 1630's.  The gravest of these, the Antinomian Crisis, was precipitated by Anne Hutchinson's unauthorized lay preaching. 

 

William and Anne Hutchinson had arrived in Boston in 1634.  Anne was the daughter of a Cambridge-educated Minister, Francis Marbury.  Shortly before Anne's birth, the Church of England silenced Francis, and he, unable to preach to a congregation, focused on educating his children.  He believed that women should be educated as well as men and allowed his daughters unprecedented access to his books, his thoughts, and the company of his highly educated friends.[vii]   Anne was an ardent student and became expert in both the practical and the theological aspects of Puritan life. 

Having 11 younger siblings, she developed strong domestic skills as well.  At age 19, she married William Hutchinson, a wealthy merchant, and bore him 15 children, the great majority of whom - and against all odds for the era - survived beyond infancy.  Appreciative of the medicinal values of various herbs and plants, she used them to forge a well-regarded midwifery practice.  While still in England, Anne discovered the Puritan ministry of John Cotton, a noted divine.  When Cotton departed for New England on the Griffin in 1633 (along with Thomas Hooker and the Hutchinson's eldest son, Edward), Anne, bereft, soon convinced her husband to immigrate.  She was 43 years old, and due to her privileged upbringing and elevated social position, she had never experienced any real threat to her position or authority.  The family embarked for New England on the Griffin in 1634.

 

Trouble soon arose.  Among the passengers were two Ministers, Reverend Mr. Zechariah Symmes, 35-years-old and educated at Emmanuel College, Cambridge, considered a hotbed of Puritan thinking, and Reverend Mr. John Lothrop, 50 years old and educated at both Oxford and Cambridge, although he had the good fortune (some said) to have matriculated at the less revolutionary Queen's College at Cambridge.  Aboard the Griffin, Reverend Symmes took note of Anne's strong views and her willingness to share them.  Puritan religious services included both the Minister's lecture and an open period, during which the congregants could question the Minister.  During these open periods Anne challenged Zechariah on theological points, and when she disagreed with his replies, she sometimes commented that Mr. Symmes must learn the error of his thinking.  Anne sometimes disparaged other Ministers as well, including Reverend Hooker, which Zechariah found intolerable.  He concluded that Anne's sound knowledge of Scripture failed to compensate for what he saw as her insufferable arrogance.  Arriving in Boston, Reverend Symmes wrote to the Governor advising him about the disturbing interchanges aboard the Griffin.  Nonetheless, both Hutchinson's were admitted to the Boston Church without hesitation on the part of the Ministers there.

 

The authorities took note of Mrs. Hutchinson, however.  In his writings Governor Winthrop described her as "a woman of haughty and fierce carriage, of a nimble wit and active spirit, and a very voluble tongue, more bold than a man."  This was not a compliment.  Few women were as assertive as Anne – she displayed a "take no prisoners" attitude, and many believe that this assertiveness, coupled with the fact that she was female, had much to do with the disapproval she received from the Boston authorities.  She also often provoked them. 

 

In Boston, William and Anne assumed their place as wealthy and prominent Puritan citizens.  William, a respected merchant and investor, served as Magistrate, Selectman, and Representative to the Massachusetts Bay Colony General Court.  A generous man, he donated to many causes including the Boston Latin School, North America's first public school.  As a midwife skilled in herbalism, Anne received the friendship, admiration, and love of Boston's female population. 

 

During her midwifery rounds, Anne engaged her patients in theological discussions, and her mastery of Scripture impressed the women, who were rarely encouraged to participate in conversations of an intellectual nature.  Finding Anne adept at interpreting Scripture, women began visiting her home regularly to attend devotional meetings where Anne would expand on the Minister's sermons.  Soon some men began attending as well, and sometimes the Hutchinson house held as many as 60 people, all there to hear Anne speak.  This itself wasn't necessarily a problem, as long as Anne confined herself to interpreting the Minister's sermon. The real problem began when Anne went beyond interpreting the sermon and began to expound her own theories.

 

Eventually, Anne effectively assumed the role of a Lay Minister.  She believed the community would find her activities acceptable.  She believed that her intellect and knowledge were sufficient to justify her preaching activities.  She wrapped herself in the legitimacy of Puritan ministry without ever asking if she had earned, in the Ministers' eyes, the right to preach Scripture.  As far as the Ministered were concerned, however, Anne had not earned that right.  She had not studied in the appropriate colleges nor defended her views in scholarly journals, and  while she quoted Scripture with ease, she molded its message to her own interpretation, which veered from Puritan orthodoxy.  This exasperated the Ministers and the authorities alike. 

 

William, more attuned to religious, social, and political undercurrents, sensed the rising tensions.  Since the Hutchinson's lived directly across High Street from Governor John Winthrop, William feared they could not hide the popularity of Anne's devotional meetings.  Concerned about her increasing notoriety, William cautioned her against provoking Winthrop and the Magistrates.  Nonetheless, one snowy winter afternoon, Anne gazed at the expectant faces of the 50 people in her sitting room.  Most were women, but at least 15 men were present.  William was away on business so he could not counsel her to restraint. 

 

So much the better, she thought, he will worry less if he doesn't attend my devotionals and doesn't see for himself the many people gathered here. 

Reverend Cotton's sermon the previous Sabbath had centered on differentiating his theology from that of most other Massachusetts Ministers.  The sermon had been nuanced, and Anne knew her listeners would have many questions.  Rather than beginning with a summary of the sermon as was typical, she instead opened the session to questions from the group. 

 

Mary Dyer, a young mother, raised her hand.  I don't understand," she began "why Reverend Cotton takes issue with the Ministers in New England, and in particular with Reverend Wilson here in Boston and claims they teach a Covenant of Works."

 

"An excellent question, Mary," responded Anne.  "Forgive me for going back in time and perhaps repeating something you already know.  Puritans broke with the Church of England because of its doctrinal similarity to the Roman Catholic Church.  The Roman Church had become so tainted with power and corruption that people of the most vile nature and behaviors were told that they might still obtain salvation if they would undertake certain redemptive acts.  This, in its purest form, is a Covenant of Works.  It teaches that grace can be achieved by the commission of good works, no matter how evil a person's life has been up to that point.  This teaching was used to enrich the coffers of the Roman Church and to assuage the guilt of the wrongdoers.  Puritans, however, believe that salvation is the gift of God who grants it to those who truly believe in Christ's saving grace.  This is the Covenant of Grace.  The Covenant of Works which Reverend Cotton fears is creeping into New England argues that an individual might achieve, through Bible study, meditation, and good behavior, a state of divine grace. The individual is not performing good works per se, such as donating to the church or supporting the poor, rather he is using the outward manifestations of grace to prove that he has attained salvation.  Reverend Cotton and I believe that the other Ministers are sliding toward a Roman trap by emphasizing these visible manifestations of belief as a method to obtain salvation."

 

"Yes," interrupted Mary, "but the Ministers' argument appears to be a bit more subtle.  They claim that good works are not the grounds for salvation but rather are merely evidence of an individual's conversion to the Puritan faith.  Thus, they follow the teachings of our Church, and therein resides my confusion.  If they are not offering salvation in return for good works, wherein lies the problem?"

 

Many in the room nodded in agreement.  This was a thorny and nuanced issue.  They understood that performing good deeds should not make up for a life of sin, emboldening a sinner to believe that donations or good works would allow him to join the Saints at the gates of Heaven.  At the same time, if a person truly converted, publicly avowed his conversion, and was questioned by the Ministers, what was the problem if the Ministers accepted evidence of his good works to support his supplication?

 

Anne, confident in her knowledge of ecclesiastical ritual and theological understanding replied, "The problem, dear Mary, lies in the danger of unintended consequences.  When once we begin to accept good deeds as evidence of conversion and salvation, how long before we begin to accept them as the grounds of salvation.  If we do this, we are no better than the misguided Catholics.  We would accept that a misspent life might be redeemed by doing good deeds or by giving money later in life to atone for one's sins.  This idea has the appeal of the devil behind it – 'Do ill, do ill, for ye can always repent and achieve the grace of God!'  We Puritans know better.  It is the revelation of the Holy Spirit within the individual, as proven by inspection of the soul that matters, not the doing of good things when one is ready to accept God.  Salvation is a gift, and as such cannot, by its nature, be earned.  Furthermore, the true Saint knows he is saved for his heart tells him so.  He need not look for outside evidence of his salvation." 

 

Perusing her listeners' faces, Anne could see that they found this concept difficult to understand.  In their minds, because they were Nonconformists, not Church of England and not Roman Catholic, the notion that grace and salvation came from true acceptance of theological doctrine was obvious.  However, they were willing to overlook this splitting of theological hairs because Anne offered them something that no Minister would.

 

Anne suggested that the individual could determine, without the Ministers' or the congregation's approval, whether he had achieved sainthood and deserved salvation.  Through diligent bible study and meditation, the worthy individual would receive a mystical revelation communicating that he had attained a state of grace.  If this were possible, it elevated the individual's conclusion about his own religious condition over that of his Pastor and congregation.  This effectively freed the individual from religious accountability to the community.  No more worrying about what the Ministers or the neighbors thought – salvation was between the individual and God.  This was a radical concept in Western organized religion.  While the Puritans rejected the multi-layer hierarchy of the Catholic Church with its Pope, Bishops, Archbishops, Cardinals, and Priests, they still believed that the Ministers and the congregation played an important role in keeping fellow Puritans on the right path.  Anne seemed to suggest that the individual could determine his own morality.  This idea greatly appealed to merchants and businessmen who valued freedom, without religious constraint, to pursue their commercial activities. 

 

Alone, Anne's theological arguments might not have drawn censure; after all, most people didn't really understand them, but unfortunately Anne had other faults.  Among these were arrogance, rigidity of thought, and a tendency to judge and dismiss other theologians' ideas.  Anne also failed to consider how her attitude might undermine the fledgling community.  When Anne discounted a Minister's teachings, her adherents showed contempt for that Minister.  Reverend Wilson, Minister of Boston's First Church and friend to Governor Winthrop, was often targeted.  When Wilson rose to preach, Anne's followers began to sigh loudly, rolling their eyes in boredom.   Sometimes they even left the building.  Anne was blamed for instigating this behavior.

 

When war with the Pequot appeared imminent, Colony authorities ordered the militia to assemble.  Several Boston militiamen, followers of Anne, balked at joining the troops because Reverend Wilson was the Military Chaplain.  Their refusal to serve threatened the security of the English settlements and put English lives at risk.  Nonetheless, Anne refused to recognize the destabilizing nature of her influence.

 

Anne also ignored the logical implications of her religious philosophy.  When she argued that individuals who had achieved salvation gained inner holiness, raising them above "mere" human laws and organizations, she essentially elevated these people above the law.  No government, in the Old World or the New, in the 17th century or the 21st, would wish such thinking to become mainstream.  If the law, albeit God given, was not the source of government authority, then what was?  If people thought they were above the law, they would become ungovernable.

Anne went even further, claiming that she alone knew which New England Preachers, Teachers, and settlers had achieved grace.  This claim, breathtaking in its arrogance, pushed the authorities beyond their limits.  It positioned Anne as the ultimate arbiter of goodness, holiness, and right behavior.  It meant that Anne Hutchinson, above all others, had secret insight into the worthiness of her fellow colonists.  The traditional Puritan position posited that no one ever knew with certainty whether he had achieved salvation.  How much easier it would be, thought Anne's followers, if we can decide we have attained grace, and Anne confirms it?

 

Eventually even the most open-minded theologians lost compassion for her. Anne treated ministers as equals, yet she wasn't really a peer.  She had learned theology from her father and Reverend Cotton, and then she overlaid her own perceptions and meditations.  Her lack of formal education, her assumption that she was an intellectual peer to ministers who had spent years devoted to formal study, and her absolute refusal to show intellectual openness, led to her loss of credibility with even the most open-minded theologians. 

 

Perhaps most importantly to her fate, Anne Hutchinson was dispensable.  17th-century women derived legitimacy from their husbands' position in the community.  While William Hutchinson was a wealthy, well-liked merchant, his presence in Massachusetts was not vital to its success.  The authorities didn't fear that adverse consequences would ensue from ridding themselves of Anne.  However, one matter prevented them from moving against her immediately.  She had implicated someone else in her activities, and this man was not dispensable.  So the authorities began to undermine the relationship between them.

 

The Problem of Reverend Cotton

 

Anne based her philosophy on the ideas of Reverend John Cotton, the Teacher at Boston's First Church.  Some of Cotton's ideas strayed from Puritan orthodoxy, yet along with Thomas Hooker, he was one of the most famous Puritan ministers.  He had a sterling reputation and a large following among Puritans in New and Old England.  A breach between him and the Massachusetts Bay government would create a crisis that would put the Colony at risk of losing credibility as a Puritan paradise.  In the words of the time, Mr. Cotton had to be brought into religious conformity.  For this, the authorities again turned to Thomas Hooker.

 

At a Synod in 1637, New England ministers came together to address the problem created by Reverend Cotton's novel ideas.  They needed to redirect his thinking and deter him from supporting Anne Hutchinson.  Having previously failed to divert Reverend Cotton from his most controversial positions, they enlisted Reverend Hooker's disputation skills to outwit Cotton and corner him into theological compliance.  Following the traditional format for theological argumentation, the ministers presented Cotton with a series of questions.  They crafted the questions to enable Cotton to express his agreement with the Synod's position yet allow him to save face by avoiding renunciation of his beliefs.  They did this by looking for points of agreement between the two sides. 

Until now, Cotton had sympathized with Anne, but the threat to his own standing caused him to reflect on the damage being done to the Puritan community.  He concluded that the threat to the community outweighed theological fine points.  He recognized the danger of Anne's extreme opinions and her absolute intransigence, and he now chose to embrace the ministers' efforts.  He answered questions in a way that positioned him closer to the Colony's orthodoxy and avoided more controversial matters.  The Synod concluded successfully; Reverend Cotton emerged unscathed, and the Church elders and magistrates were satisfied that unity prevailed, and the threat to Puritan orthodoxy was contained.  

 

The Synod marked a change in Reverend Cotton's attitude toward Anne, and while he did not abandon her to her fate (counseling her many times toward more openness of thought), he distanced himself from her positions.

 

The ministers also arrived at a formal agreement about the nature of New England Puritanism.  In England, Puritans advocated the rejection of certain Church of England practices and beliefs, but they failed to articulate a specific guiding philosophy.  At the Synod, the ministers decided that both faith and human works were necessary to attain salvation; neither was sufficient on its own.   To achieve salvation, an individual must demonstrate both faith and sanctifying works.  The individual had to both "talk the talk and walk the walk". 

 

After bringing the ministers into conformity and defining the New England Puritan ideology, the ministers addressed the Anne Hutchinson problem.   Noting that devotional meetings where she interpreted the ministers' sermons granted her a bully pulpit from which to sow dissension, they decided to squash that opportunity.  But rather than attacking Anne directly, they struck a broader blow and banned all women from attending large, organized meetings for the purpose of discussing sermons.  The first shots in the battle to contain Anne Hutchinson had been fired. 

 

The Problem of Mary Dyer's Child

 

One of Anne's most devote followers inadvertently provided the authorities with new ammunition.  Her friend, Mary Dyer, went into labor two months early and called Anne to her side.  The labor did not progress well.  By the time Anne arrived at Mary's small house on Mylne Road near the cow pond, Mary was almost unconscious.  She labored for many hours, and the mood in the house turned grim.  Determining that the infant was in a breech position, the two midwives undertook the painful task of turning the baby within Mary's womb.  After several more hours, Mary exerted her final effort, and the infant emerged.  The baby girl was terribly deformed; she was also dead.[viii] 

 

17th-century Puritans were quite superstitious, and births such as this were considered at best, God's punishment for individual or collective sin and at worst, credible evidence of witchcraft.   The midwives knew they must quickly and quietly dispose of the baby's body to forestall gossip.  Having fainted at the birth, Mary could pose no objection.  Bundling up against an early October snowstorm, Anne ran swiftly to Reverend Cotton's house. 

 

Rapping firmly at his door, Anne was rewarded with the minister's prompt appearance.  Urgently, she whispered, "Reverend Cotton, Mary Dyer has given birth to a stillborn child.  The baby was terribly deformed.  William is away from home and cannot help.  Mary has not seen the child, and I do not wish her to.  The house is full of women and children, but Goody Hawkins and I took care that only one other saw the babe.  Can you help?"

 

Dear God, thought Cotton, would their misfortunes never end? 

 

"I'll just put on my coat," he responded.  Then, closing the door behind him he added, "Anne, I must stop at the shed first."

 

Anne closed her eyes and nodded.  Of course, he would need his shovel, she thought. 

 

Soon the two of them were rushing through the streets toward the Dyer home. Meeting them at the door, Goody Hawkins handed Reverend Cotton the baby, which she had swaddled in blankets. 

 

"How is Mary?" he asked.

 

"Heartbroken, I'm afraid," replied Goody Hawkins.  "She understands what must be done nonetheless."

 

Nodding, Cotton took the babe, and he and Anne hurried off to bury the unfortunate child.  They hoped their quick action would allay any damage.

 

The Civil Court Charge: Sedition

 

Two weeks later, the General Court assembled at Newtown.  Here, Winthrop planned to launch a second salvo at Anne, who he believed was the root of a much larger problem.  Two items dominated the agenda, sedition charges against the troublesome Bostonians, all men, and all followers of Anne, and charges against Anne herself.  From the beginning, the Court made clear that those being charged with sedition were not being charged for their religious beliefs but rather for threatening the stability of Massachusetts Bay Colony by acting on those beliefs to the detriment of the entire community.  The evidence for sedition included refusing to send men to the Pequot War, publicly belittling Boston Church ministers and various government officials, issuing threats against the community, and instigating public disturbances to undermine the Colony's stability.  Chief among these public disturbances was their support for Reverend Wheelwright, who refused to accept the orthodox position on the relationship between the Covenants of Grace and of Works.  The accused men were convicted and suffered punishments ranging from disarmament to disenfranchisement to banishment. 

 

For her part, Anne had continued to hold devotional meetings in her home even after the Synod prohibited them.  Charged by the Court with authoring and disseminating opinions that troubled the peace of the community, she had little chance against this Court of 49 men determined to do everything necessary to restore that peace.  Various ministers prepared Anne for her trial, trying to persuade her to renounce her views and bend to the orthodoxy of the Church.  Anne refused but naively shared her beliefs with candor.

 

At first, Anne impressed everyone with her knowledge of Scripture, her intelligence, and her wit.  However, it became apparent that at least one of the ministers had revealed the essence of his conversations with Anne to the magistrates.  Armed with this information, the Court pressed the other ministers to divulge their own conversations with her.  Initially reluctant, several ministers testified about her more alarming comments.  In those times, ministers did not testify under oath.  Frustrated and angry, Anne demanded that they do so.  This shocked everyone.  Ministers, held in the highest esteem in Puritan society, were believed to be truthful men.  By demanding that they testify under oath, Anne cast doubt on this fundamental assumption. 

Further complicating matters, Reverend Cotton denounced the other ministers' testimony.  The Court and the ministers were dumbfounded.  A testimonial breach between two unimpeachable sources had arisen.  Should they believe Reverend Cotton or the testifying ministers? 

 

At this point, Anne asked to address the Court.  The Court, stunned by the contradictory testimony of the ministers, bade her be quiet, but she plunged on anyway and brought disaster upon herself.  Striving to defend her beliefs, she explained that she derived them from Scripture as revealed to her by God. 

 

"How so?" asked one of the magistrates, "how did God reveal these things?"

 

"By revelation," Anne responded and sealed her fate.

 

Puritans considered mysticism a particular evil, and revelation fell squarely into the realm of mysticism.  By claiming she learned the will of God through revelation, Anne opened herself to charges of heresy.  Then she added even more fuel to the fire.

 

She explained that God had promised to save her and to curse the Puritans if they harmed her.  The ministers and magistrates listened in stupefaction at the idea that God would intervene in human affairs by rewarding Anne Hutchinson and punishing others.  Reverend Cotton again attempted to intervene, but it was too late.  Anne had far exceeded anything the Court could condone.  Her claim that she received direct revelations from God appalled the Puritans, and the fact that she had come close to issuing a threat of divine intervention on her behalf made it clear that she represented an unacceptable menace to the Colony.  The Court convicted Anne of sedition and sentenced her to banishment.[ix] 

 

However, since Anne had essentially confessed to heresy, the ministers had to consider this new charge as well.  Meanwhile, she would be detained in a private home in Roxbury.  Unrepentant, Anne continued her theological explorations, and inexplicably, discussed these explorations with the Roxbury and Newtown ministers.

 

The Religious Case: Heresy

 

In March, the Boston ministers debated whether Anne was guilty of the religious charge of heresy.  The crowded meetinghouse held Anne and the ministers, Anne's supporters, her opponents, former supporters who had turned against her, and some who were uncertain.  Her eldest son, Edward, and her son-in-law, Thomas Savage, were in attendance, but her faithful William was down south looking at land with Roger Williams. 

 

At this second trial, Anne did not shine.  Depressed and worn down, she appeared doubtful and lacked her former wit.  She attempted to question the ministers on matters of doctrine and interpretation, but they rejected her overtures believing that further debate would sow more doubt and discord.  Like the magistrates, the ministers had tired of fractious Anne Hutchinson.  Reverend Cotton delivered her sentence.  She had many good qualities, he said, including perspicacity and the gift of persuasive speech, but she had endangered the spiritual welfare of all and had misled many weaker souls with her teachings.  Therefore, for the good of all she must recant or be cast out of the Church.  Thoroughly discouraged, Anne tried to recant, but she was accused of lying, found guilty of heresy, and excommunicated.  As she walked toward the door of the meetinghouse, she clung to Mary Dyer, whose love and support had never wavered.

 

Soon thereafter, Anne joined William in Pocasset on Aquidneck Island where many of her adherents had settled the town that would become Portsmouth (R.I.).  William Dyer drafted the famous Portsmouth Compact founding a "body politic" with no specific religious affiliation but rather a "Christian focus."  Anne's younger children accompanied their parents.  Edward, recently returned from England with his new bride, Katherine, signed the Portsmouth Compact.  He remained there only briefly, however, and soon returned to Boston where he raised a large family in his parents' former home. 

 

William died in 1642, and Anne moved to a part of New Netherland on the border of what is now Westchester County, New York with her youngest children, who ranged in age from 7 to 17.  Kieft's War, between New Netherland and the Lenape, was in bloody progress.  A year after settling into her new home, Anne and six of her children were killed in a raid by members of the Sinawoy tribe.  Her 10-year-old daughter, Susannah, hid from the attackers, crouching in a geological formation known as "Split Rock".  Discovered later, she was spared because of her red hair, which the Sinawoy admired.  She lived with them for three years until her family paid her ransom.  The Sinawoy had forewarned the European settlers of their raiding plans, but Anne believed her kindness toward the Natives would protect her.  Once again, Anne had gravely miscalculated.

 

Thirty 

Roger Williams is Banished

 

"Against this community, so jealous of their rights, the headstrong enthusiast dashed himself."

- Prof. J. Lewis Diman, 1877

 

Like Anne Hutchinson, Roger Williams quickly wore out his welcome in Massachusetts Bay.  The key disagreement between Williams and Governor Winthrop's Puritan vision centered on the relationship between the State and religion.  Roger believed the process of governing, which sometimes prioritized protecting the State over adhering to Scripture, would inevitably corrupt religion, and so they should be kept separate. 

 

Williams held an influential position in Massachusetts Bay, and his opinions carried significant weight.  Because of this, the authorities were even less tolerant of his rebelliousness than they had been of Hutchinson's.

 

The Colony itself was under pressure from within and without.  From within, Reverend Hooker's desire to remove to Connecticut threatened Massachusetts's credibility.  Puritans in Old England were watching the New England experiment closely, and a rift between the greatest Puritan divine and the Puritan Colony did not bode well.  From without, England, arguing that the Colony had exceeded its authority, planned to send a new governor to seize the Massachusetts Bay charter and re-assert sovereign control.  Resolved to retain control, the Court ordered all able-bodied men to increase the frequency and rigor of their military training and began to shore up existing military fortifications and build new ones.  Men above the age of 16 were required to swear an Oath of Fidelity to Massachusetts authorities.  The Bay Colony prepared for a possible rebellion against English authority. 

 

Adding fuel to the fire, Roger continued to argue that the Church should be kept separate from the State and objected to the Colony's attempts to consolidate power by requiring Church attendance and loyalty oaths.  He again opined that the King lacked the right to grant New England lands.  He concluded that Massachusetts should return the charter to England so that it might be re-issued on more appropriate terms.  He also recommended composing a letter to the King pointing out his many errors in colonizing New England. 

 

Predictably, the Court called for Williams' expulsion from the Colony, while the ministers begged him to renounce his views.  Forced to defend his positions, Roger backed down on the issues of land ownership, the validity of the Colony charter, and the need to publicly chastise and humiliate the King.[x] 

 

He refused, however, to retract his disapproval of the Oath of Fidelity.  He claimed the oath wrongly mixed Church and State because it required the oath-taker to swear loyalty before God.  This set up an untenable situation.  If an unrepentant sinner made the oath before God, the fact that he was unrepentant meant that he was taking the Lord's name in vain to comply with the government's demand.  Worse, if the community knew that the sinner was unrepentant, the community itself would be complicit in his breach.  Government demands would have corrupted religious purity.  Furthermore, any oath sworn before God should be between the oath-taker and God. The State had no right to insert itself into this private relationship.

 

The Court declined to expel Roger, likely hoping that he had been sufficiently chastened.  The Salem church, failing to recognize that this was merely an uneasy truce, offered Williams the official post of Teacher, thereby enraging Roger's detractors.  The Massachusetts authorities, both lay and clerical, condemned the church's action.  Then an odd thing happened.  Roger temporarily lost his voice.  Puritan clergymen strongly valued their communication skills, considering them a gift from God.  A clergyman who could not preach had little value.  Recognizing this, English authorities punished rebel clergy by "silencing" them or forbidding them to preach.  Williams' detractors promptly claimed that God had caused his impairment and cited it as proof that his beliefs were in error and that he had been silenced by God himself.  Roger, of course, had little to say.

 

Seizing their advantage, the Massachusetts Bay clergy and magistrates pounced upon Salem town and its clergy.  They denied Salem Deputies permission to speak at the General Court.  They imprisoned former Governor Endicott for supporting Williams and threatened to punish anyone who defended Endicott. They demanded the Salem minister renounce Roger.  Finally, they refused to address civic matters of importance to Salem unless the town stopped supporting Williams. 

 

Roger, in turn, challenged the Salem Church to champion him or risk losing him as Teacher.  Faced with this ultimatum and suffering from the Colony's restrictions on their town, the Salem Church chose Massachusetts Bay over Roger Williams.  In one blow, Roger Williams lost his friends, his Church, and his community.  Not because he was wrong but because he was right.  In mixing Church and State, the Puritan community had fallen into the very trap Roger had warned against.  Lay governance, by its nature of humankind and for humankind, must be flexible and practical.  It bends to the exigencies of the times and the whims of those in power.  In a struggle between practical governance and moral purity, practicality often prevails.

 

Once again, the General Court asked Thomas Hooker to debate Roger Williams.  Thomas's duty was to prove the "rightness" of the authorities' position and to persuade Roger to admit fault and conform.  Roger sought to prove that his beliefs were guideposts to better governance, both lay and religious.  According to contemporary reports, neither man achieved his goal.  Nonetheless, the predetermined sentence was imposed, and Williams was ordered to leave Massachusetts Bay within six weeks.  As it had with Anne Hutchinson, the Colony chose absolutism over democracy.

Roger had several options, although he needed to decide quickly because Mary was again pregnant.  He discarded the idea of returning to Plymouth or going to one of the newer plantations in what are now New Hampshire and Maine in favor of starting afresh.  He had fled England to find religious freedom, which he interpreted as intellectual freedom.  In New England, intellectual freedom did not exist.  Fearing that Plymouth and the newer plantations would soon fall in line with the Bay Colony, he decided to establish a new plantation that embodied religious and intellectual freedom.  To do so, he would rely on his Native friends.

 

Before he could do this, he fell ill and could not comply with the banishment order.  The General Court granted him a temporary reprieve with certain constraints.  In return for allowing Roger to stay, the Court required that he cease to criticize both the Church and the colonial government.  But Roger, like Anne Hutchinson, could not control his tongue this time either.

In the privacy of his own home, Roger criticized the Bay authorities and also shared his plans with his supporters, encouraging them to join in forming a new plantation on Narragansett Bay.  Fearing that the establishment of a religious haven on their border would entice more Puritans to leave Massachusetts, the magistrates decided to deport Roger to England, even knowing that he would face imprisonment, torture, and probably death for his many criticisms of the King and the Church of England.  Aid arrived from an unexpected quarter when John Winthrop warned Roger that militiamen were enroute to capture and deport him.  Roger promptly fled Salem, leaving his wife and children behind.  Setting off in a blinding blizzard, he trudged on foot until he encountered several Natives, most likely a Wampanoag hunting party, who offered him shelter and sustenance.  Thanks to their generosity, he survived the journey.   Some weeks later, he arrived at Massasoit's home south of Plymouth and spent the winter there. 

 

In the spring he and his followers began to clear fields and build homes along the east side of the Seekonk River on a tract of land obtained from Massasoit.  However, Plymouth claimed this land as part of their patent, so the Plymouth Governor asked him to relocate.  West of the river, the Narragansett welcomed Williams and allowed him to establish his settlement, called "Providence", on a saltwater cove.  Rich in resources, the site boasted fresh water, good soil, salmon, shellfish, and migrating ducks and geese.  In payment for the land, the settlers promised to provide the Narragansett with annual supplies of English trade goods.  Never a greedy man, Roger quickly transferred ownership of the plantation to his companions.  

 

But it turned out another European was already there.  William Blackstone, the renegade minister who had soon regretted inviting Governor Winthrop to settle in Boston, had fled Boston for the Narragansett territory.  Yet, within a year civilization arrived at his door in the form of Roger Williams.  Fortunately, Williams proved a better neighbor than Winthrop, and Blackstone, content, remained in the area until his death.

 

Establishing the town of Providence under a compact which made no mention of God, Williams put his theories into practice.  As soon as possible, he brought Mary and their daughters, Mary and Freeborn, to Providence.  A son, also named Providence, arrived in 1638, followed by Mercy, Daniel, and Joseph.  Roger converted to the Baptist faith in 1639 and founded the first Baptist Church in America, although he soon withdrew from the Church to pursue solitary religious studies.  In 1644 he sailed to England to obtain a royal charter for his new Colony, which was later renegotiated and confirmed in 1663.  He and Mary raised six children and lived well into their 70's.  

 

[i] The Little River traversed the southern portion of Hartford and was later renamed Park River.  In 1940 the Army Corps of Engineers rerouted the river through underground channels to reduce flooding in the downtown area.
[ii] Many of Hooker's sermons were eventually published and can be read today.
[iii] The original Greek quote, to "call a fig a fig and a trough a trough" was translated into Latin by Erasmus, who creatively changed the phrase to "call a spade a spade."  The "spade" referred to was the gardening tool and had no racial connotations.  Trained in both Greek and Latin, Hooker would have been familiar with the Latin translation and its usage in England, which dated from 1542.
[iv] Farmers who owned their land.
[v] One: We whose names are here unto subscribed do, in the fear and reverence of our Almighty God, mutually and severally promise amongst ourselves and each other to profess and practice one truth according to that most perfect rule, the foundation whereof is everlasting love.

Two: That we shall by all means labor to keep off from us all such as are contrary minded, and receive only such unto us as may be probably of one heart with us, [and such] as that we either know or may well and truly be informed to walk in a peaceable conversation with all meekness of spirit, [this] for the edification of each other in the knowledge and faith of the Lord Jesus, and the mutual encouragement unto all temporal comforts in all things, seeking the good of each other out of which may be derived true peace.

Three: That if at any time differences shall rise between parties of our said town, that then such party or parties shall presently refer all such differences unto some one, two or three others of our said society to be fully accorded and determined without any further delay, if it possibly may be.

Four: That every man that … shall have lots [and] in our said town shall pay his share in all such…charges as shall be imposed on him…, as also become freely subject unto all such orders and constitutions as shall be…made now or at any time hereafter from this day forward, as well for loving and comfortable society in our said town as also for the prosperous and thriving condition of our said fellowship, especially respecting the fear of God, in which we desire to begin and continue whatsoever we shall by loving favor take into hand.

Five: And for the better manifestation of our true resolution herein, every man so received into the town is to subscribe hereunto his name, thereby obliging both himself and his successors after him forever, as we have done.
[vi] Towns carved out of the original Dedham bounds include Wellesley, Needham, Natick, Dover, Westwood, Norwood, Walpole, Medfield, Millis, Medway, Bellingham, Franklin, Wrentham, Plainville, Norfolk, and Walpole. A large parcel of land in the southeast part of Dedham was quickly annexed to Dorchester, and the towns of Foxborough, Sharon, Stoughton, Canton, and Avon were later developed.
[vii] Francis Marbury matriculated at Christ's College, Cambridge, but there is no evidence that he graduated.
[viii] The little girl likely suffered from both anencephaly and spina bifida and would not have lived more than a few hours, as her body lacked life-sustaining organs. 
[ix] Historians and legal scholars have dissected the proceedings by which Anne Hutchinson was indicted, tried, and convicted.  While many of the actions of the General Court strike a twenty-first century reader as legally primitive and unfair, the most controversial aspect of the trial was the fact that the magistrates acted as both prosecutors and judges.  No jury served as a check on their conclusions.  While other aspects of the trial were not unusual by English court standards, this particular circumstance caused the trial of Anne Hutchinson to stand out as a miscarriage of justice carried out by the government of Massachusetts Bay against one of its citizens.  Only after the trial did the Court write a definition and prohibition against seditious libel.
[x] Williams' continued efforts to raise awareness about the importance of acknowledging the land rights of the Native Americans prompted English immigrants to begin paying for use the land.

 PART EIGHT

Puritan Ministry in New England – Opportunities and Challenges

 

As the New England colonies matured, the colonists sought to strengthen the foundations of their religion.  They did this in two ways.  First, realizing they needed to relieve themselves of their dependence on England to supply Ministers for New England churches, they established an institution of higher learning for the education of clergymen.  Second, they emphasized the bonds between individuals and the Church through various strategies designed to integrate the Church into all aspects of society.  The greatest challenges to this attempted integration often arose when a individual's faith was challenged, and this usually occurred when a family experienced sudden and tragic death.  Then as now, people of faith could not help but ask, Why does God wish such pain upon me?

 

Thirty-two

Harvard College

 

In the 17th century, English universities concerned themselves with preparing men for the ministry.  Some schools also prepared men for the practice of law or medicine, but by far their most important responsibility was the education of Ministers.  Puritans, especially, valued highly educated Ministers, and Massachusetts Bay Colony considered the establishment of an institution of higher learning an overarching priority.

 

In 1636 the Massachusetts General Court set aside £400 for the purpose of founding a college.  In 1637, the Court decided to locate the new college in Newtown, (Cambridge).  In 1639 the college was named "Harvard" in honor of Reverend John Harvard, who bequeathed half of his monetary estate and his entire library of 320 books to the college when he died.  In 1642, the first class, composed of nine young men graduated.  They were ranked in contemporary lists, not alphabetically and not by merit, but by their family's social position.  George Downing was the second listed; he was the son of Emanuel Downing and Emanuel's second wife, Lucy Winthrop, sister to the Massachusetts Bay's Governor Winthrop.[i]  

 

Emanuel was 37 when he married Lucy; she was 21.  Their son George, the first of seven children, arrived the following year.  Within days of his birth, Lucy developed an obsessive concern for his well-being and happiness.  This meant, among other things, eliminating any possible competition for her beloved son.  As it happens, competition already existed in the form of three children from Emanuel's previous marriage.  Before marrying Lucy, Emanuel first married Anne Ware, the daughter of an Irish peer.  Anne died in 1621 leaving Emanuel free to remarry.

 

Upon his second marriage, Emanuel wasted no time in ridding himself of his older children.  He sent 16-year-old James to New England with the Winthrop Fleet of 1630.  He sent his daughters, Susan and Mary, to the colonies in 1633 under the care of Governor Coddington.  Both were in their teens at the time. 

 

Emanuel and Lucy embraced a pattern of benign neglect toward Susan and Mary, generally ignoring them unless they wished the girls to do something that would benefit their half-siblings.  In contrast, they actively disparaged James, whom they believed to be a nitwit and ne'er do well.  Considering him unfit for advanced learning, Emanuel suggested in a letter that he embrace farming or "play the merchant." 

 

Siblings James and Susan Downing disappeared from New England records at a young age, and their fate is unknown.  Mary, however, married and bore several children. 

 

The Downing-Winthrop family immigrated to New England in 1638 on the Thomas & Francis and settled in Salem.  Emanuel, a Cambridge University trained Barrister and an Adventurer-investor in the Colony, was wealthy in his own right and is perhaps best known in New England for two things.  First, for having fathered George, who returned to England and became a famous diplomat,[ii] and second for renting his tavern to John Proctor who was later hanged as a witch during the Salem witch trials.[iii]  Lesser known and less complimentary was Emanuel's attitude toward slavery – he advocated capturing and trading Native Americans for Africans so as to increase commercial productivity in New England, noting that it was much less expensive to own slaves than to hire English servants.  Perhaps because of this he was denied a position as Assistant to the General Court, a position he likely expected given his status.  Most colonists remained unwilling to utilize slave labor as an engine of growth.  Nor did they consider the Native Americans a trading commodity. 

 

Prior to his admission to Harvard at age 16, George received tutoring from Reverend John Fiske, a "plain, but able, powerful, and useful preacher of the Gospel", according to those who knew him.  As a prospective student, George had to demonstrate proficiency in Latin since classes were taught in that language.  He needed a basic understanding of Greek, which he would continue to study throughout college.  By graduation, he would have mastered Hebrew, Chaldean, and Syriac, as well as logic, ethics, politics, literature, and the sciences.  He also spent one day per week learning rhetoric, a skill considered critical for argumentation and persuasion.   After three years, George graduated from Harvard along with his eight classmates.

 

The graduation ceremony, which lasted a full day, was an opportunity for the Colony's Governor, Magistrates, and Ministers to invite the students' families to the school to observe the final step in their educational process.  As the procedures began, an official struck a staff upon the floor to get everyone's attention and emphasize the solemnity of the occasion.  The students then spent the morning defending their theses in Latin.  In the afternoon they participated in disputations (debates) in the various languages that they now dominated.  At the end of the day, the graduates and their families ate a special meal and indulged in a celebratory pint of beer, made by the students themselves, and for which they likely received as much praise as they did for their disputation skills. 

Emanuel failed to capitalize on the New England experiment and began to suffer severe economic losses in Salem.  He eventually returned to England and retired to Scotland dying there sometime after November 1660.  Upon his death, Lucy found herself in a pitiful financial state and wrote in desperation to George, now 1st Baronet Downing, a wealthy and well-connected man.  George, a known miser and as ruthless as his father, refused to offer financial aid, and Lucy died destitute.

 

Mary Downing, the neglected daughter from Emanuel's first marriage, thrived in New England, demonstrating both pluck and wit.  Soon after arriving in Massachusetts, she had received a letter from her father urging her to marry quickly.  "After all," wrote Emanuel, "I cannot bear financial responsibility for you forever."  Since early marriage was uncommon among the Puritans, Emanuel's request struck Mary as odd, and she surmised that her stepmother Lucy, was behind the letter.  Mary, however, knew her worth.  Replying to her father, she made it plain that she would not be hurried into marriage saying, "Aye, I'll marry, Father, but I'll not be rushed.  Better I wait upon him that can change my heart at his will than settle for something less." 

 

Mary waited until 1639 to marry Anthony Stoddard, the 'man who could change her heart at his will.'  She died young, having given birth to three children, including Solomon Stoddard.  Solomon followed in his step-uncle's footsteps, graduating from Harvard in 1662.  He entered the ministry in New England and became known for his liberal and humane application of Puritan tenets.

 

Thirty-three 

Death Tests the Faith of Two Dedham Families

 

How does a Christian submit to God's will when His will demands the death of a child?

 

Soon after settling Dedham in Massachusetts Bay Colony, the Dwight family and the Fisher family both suffered the loss of a child.  They Dwights became stronger after their loss, while the Fishers succumbed to it.   

 

As soon as the town was settled and using Scripture as their guide, Dedham families met to form their Church.  Their first task was to find eight "pillars" or founding members.  Only "visible saints or believers" would be considered for this honor.  Identifying these pillars entailed a rigorous process of interviews and investigation into every detail of the candidates' lives.  The chosen men had to be knowledgeable about Scripture and visibly devout in their conduct.  They must show "a spirit of wisdom and discerning as well as meekness, amiableness of spirit, and innocence of life."  The committee sought references from the community, the Colony, and sometimes even from England.  Mr. Anthony Fisher was one of the men considered for the honor.

 

Anthony and Alice Fisher married in Syleham, Suffolk County, England in 1615, and prior to arriving in New England, their family grew to include seven children.  Six of those children accompanied their parents to the colonies - only one child, a daughter, died in infancy.  Having come to the Bay Colony full of hope, anxious to practice their faith in peace and in loving community, the Fishers no sooner arrived in Dedham than they experienced a tragedy of the worst sort.  Their firstborn son, 21-year-old John, died in July 1637. 

 

This loss did not prevent Anthony from seeking important posts nor did it humble his sense of self.  He offended many due to his "rash carriage and comments that demonstrated an unusually high level of self-confidence."   The committee, which believed that he was a good candidate to be a founding member, decided to "seek the humbling and trial of his spirit" to help him understand his greatest weakness – the sin of pride.  The committee dedicated several meetings to this endeavor.  After some time, they appeared to succeed, and Anthony publicly confessed his prideful behavior and promised to be a better Puritan.  Appeased, the committee offered him founding member status in the Dedham Church and asked him to help design and oversee the meetinghouse construction project.  In this role, Anthony further antagonized Dedham residents, exuding pride and arrogance in his interactions with others, and the committee rescinded its offer.  When the Church was finally gathered in November 1638, Anthony Fisher was not among the eight pillars and he continued to fail the examination for church admission several times.  In fact, he was only admitted to the Church seven years later with the following notation, "Mr. Anthony Fisher… after many offenses given in his conversations and much effort used to convince him and reduce him into order, at last after God had greatly humbled him and brought him to a penitent confession thereof…was comfortably received into the church." 

 

John Dwight, who was never a candidate for founding membership, had also suffered recent loss.  Eight-year-old John Jr. wandered off into the woods between Dedham and Boston one day and was never seen again.  Despite this tragedy, John relied on his faith, going before the Church founders and speaking convincingly of his belief.  The Church admitted him in May 1639 with the notation, "John Dwight, who after some scruples wherein the church waited a good while for satisfaction yet gave good, comfortable satisfaction to the church."

 

Hannah Dwight, however, still hesitated.  When she finally felt ready to face examination, she was grateful to learn that she would be allowed to confess privately in the Reverend's home.  He knew that Hannah would have deeply buried doubts and questions, and while it was his job to expose and heal them, he kindly refused to do this before the entire congregation.

 

"Sister Hannah," he began, "I join you in your suffering.  You and John have borne up better than most under tragedy, yet I fear I must inquire into the sacred heart of motherhood.  God is ready to accept you, my child, but he must know wherein lie your doubts."

 

"I understand, Reverend," replied Hannah.  She thought she knew what to expect and having delayed the moment as much as was prudent, she accepted that she must lay bare her soul.

 

"You have experienced the greatest evil that can befall a mother – the type of evil that makes honest people question God and his motives.  Can you tell me what transpired?"

 

Taking a deep breath to steady herself and half-closing her eyes, Hannah thought back to March 1638 when her world changed forever.  She began to speak, her voice a whisper in the room.

 

"The day dawned bright and crisp, a beautiful late winter morn that gave no hint of the horror to come.  John and John, Jr. left early for the fields.  John was in a great hurry to depart as he had been unable to complete repairs on the fence, and with spring coming, the animals were in high spirits, and we feared losing them to wolves that had been spotted nearby." 

 

Stopping to take another breath, Hannah regarded the Minister, who nodded encouragingly.  "Young John, you may recall, Reverend, was only eight.  He had been late in divesting himself of his skirts and dresses, only reaching that goal when he was seven.  He was so careful afterward to properly fasten his breeches, always ensuring his buttons and buckles were tight. John and I often smiled at his pleasure in finally wearing 'grown-up clothes'".

 

She paused again; her initial burst of energy deserting her.  "On Thursday, he dressed carefully and helped young Timothy don his clothes.  Then, he left with his father.  I took care not to fuss over him as he so wanted to be treated as a man."

 

Taking her hand the Minister squeezed gently, "You were right to treat him thus.  Children grow into the people their parents see them to be."

 

An observer might have thought the Minister's interruption ill timed, but he had thought long about this meeting and decided that Hannah would better support the ordeal if she were given some respite in between bouts of speech.  The tactic seemed to work, and the next time she spoke, her voice had gained steadiness and strength.

 

"When they attained the place where the fence needed mending, John found the breach to be more serious than previously thought.  Bidding John Jr. to gather twigs and sticks for the hearth but to remain within sight and sound in case John needed help with the repair, he set to work cutting a tree to use as posting.  From time to time he looked toward young John to make certain his location."

 

Hannah hesitated again and breathed deeply.  Her voice trembling, she continued, "One time when he looked, John Jr. was not in sight.  Panicking not, he thought surely he would soon make himself known, and he didn't want to call his name as if to a baby."  Stopping she took another breath, her nostrils flaring as if to suck in all the air in the room.

 

"Presently, John became worried and began to call and then to search for John Jr."  Her voice rose, "Over the course of many hours he looked and looked but to no avail." 

 

Wringing a handkerchief in her hands, her knuckles turned red and then white.  Unable to control herself, she cried out, "Our John had disappeared into the woods, Reverend.  Our boy just wandered off.  He was so brave and so good.  I…he."  Weeping softly, she dabbed her eyes with the handkerchief and began rocking back and forth in the wooden chair before the fire that no longer gave comfort.  Gathering her composure, she continued.

 

"Late that afternoon John returned home for a brief meal and to give me the news.  He then ventured out again, this time accompanied by such of the local men who could help.  I waited at home, barely able to think or work.  Hannah was a great comfort to me during those dark hours.  Thankfully, Timothy and Mary slept as I was not of a mood to cuddle them."

 

"The men returned late that night, without young John.  The weather was blessedly warm, and we prayed that he had found a cozy spot to rest while he waited to be discovered.  The next day the men searched again, and the following day.  They never found the slightest trace of our precious boy." 

 

Bereft, she swayed gently in her chair, although her weeping stopped.  Closing her eyes she placed her hands on her belly, "The days are so long now, Reverend, and the nights stretch even longer.  My time draws near.  If a boy is born to us this summer, I will name him John."

 

And now comes the hard part, thought the Minister.

 

"Hannah," he said, "God loved John Jr.; he loves you, too.  I must ask if you can find it in your heart to love the Lord, who has taken John from your side."

 

Hannah had always been an honest woman.  Her parents had taught her to be, and she could not lie to this earnest man who wished only the best for her and her family.

 

"Reverend," she said, "I cannot lie.  It took me much longer to come to you to be examined than it did my husband.  I was angry; I admit that.  I was angry with the Lord, and I was angry with John.  I blamed them for taking my son from me.  But with the passing of days, Hannah, Timothy, and Mary needed me.  John stood at my side, accepting my blame yet lending his strength when mine flagged.  As the pain of loss lessened, I was able to remember the joy I found in our boy, and I clung to that, and it helped keep the anger and sadness away.  As more time passed the hard knot I carried inside softened to a dull ache, and then that ache gave way to mere sadness.  Soon I realized that we would again become parents to a new babe.  These glad tidings have filled my spirit.  There is no space for anger, just love for my family and my Lord.  I can look you in the eye and avow that I am one with God and with his teachings, and while his lesson has been hard, I yield to it and to His will."

 

Hannah cast her eyes downward and waited patiently.  Prepared for the worst, she fully expected to receive a deluge of additional questions.  As the silence continued, she became nervous.  Have I failed, she wondered?  Am I to be cast from the Church without being asked to join the community of the holy?

 

She looked up and saw the Minister wiping his eyes.  Then he smiled.

 

Once again taking her hands into his and patting them gently, he said, "Yes, dear Hannah, you have caught me crying.  First, I cried for you and John and for your loss, but then as you spoke of your pain and fear and then your gradual acceptance, I began to cry for our Lord, who has found such worth in you, Hannah.  Your examination is over, my dear, and you have given satisfaction to God and to his Church that you are worthy to enter into the community of saints.  Now go home, dear child, we will welcome you into the Church on Sabbath next with your family."

 

Taken aback, she thought she must have misunderstood, but no, he seemed to be quite serious.  She returned the pressure of his hands, and then gently extricating herself from his grasp, went home to go about her day.

 

The 17th century was not a time of ease and plenty for most people.  The loss of children was expected, but it was usually due to malnourishment, complications in childbirth, accidents, or disease.  What touched the entire community in this case was the accompanying uncertainty.  John's body was never found.  Had he been kidnapped by Natives to replace a lost child?  Had he been attacked by wolves and dragged off to be mauled and eaten?  Had he fallen through the ice on the river and been carried out to sea?  John and Hannah would never know, and this made his death all the more painful.

 

John and Hannah slowly healed, and although they never forgot their loss, they were able to move forward and prosper.  John maintained a visible presence in town affairs.  He was liked by all and highly respected for his ability to work with anyone, for his competence, and for his sense of fair play.  Through a series of astute business deals, he built a respectable estate for himself and his family.  John became one of seven men elected as town leaders with the power to manage all Dedham's business and other affairs.  This delegation of town authority to a small group later evolved into a Board of Selectmen.  Unlike other public institutions, the Board of Selectmen was not imported from England but rather was developed on American soil. 

The little boy the Dwights longed for never arrived; their last child, a daughter named Sarah, was born in 1638.  Timothy alone, born in 1631, was destined to carry on the family name. 

[i] Richardson descendancy is through Emanuel Downing and his daughter, Mary Downing, George's half-sister.
[ii] Downing Street in London is named after George Downing, who was eventually made 1st Baronet Downing.  No. 10 Downing Street is the residence of British Prime Ministers.
[iii] John is also the protagonist in Arthur Miller's famous play "The Crucible."

 

PART NINE

New Colonies and Settlements

 

The drive to expand New England continued.  New colonists continued to arrive in North America, and many of them wished to begin new settlements rather than move into already settled ones.  Established settlers continued to move from place to place, further adding to the fervor to begin new settlements. 

 

Thirty-four

New Haven Colony 1638 – 1662

 

In early 1636, the followers of Reverend John Davenport decided to emigrate from England to New England.  Over several months, they meticulously prepared their emigration.  They sold homes and other properties; they disposed of excess personal property; they acquired the items they would need, and finally, they engaged the Hector of London to transport them across the sea.  Yet fate had other ideas.  Within days, the ship was impressed into naval service by the English Admiralty.[i]  

 

Springing into action, the Hector's owners filed a complaint explaining that the ship had been hired for passage to New England and that the impressment would inconvenience the passengers and increase their expenses.  Unmoved, the English Secretary of the Admiralty replied that he was well within his rights to impress the ship; however, he offered to consider releasing the Hector from service if her captain could identify suitable replacement ships currently at anchor in the Thames River.  The captain quickly identified four targets.  The Vinty, the Royal Defence, the Prudence, and the Pleiades, each of sufficient size and ordnance, were conveniently in port near London.  Satisfied, the Secretary released the Hector and impressed the unfortunate Pleiades instead.  Problem solved.

 

The Hector and an accompanying ship arrived in Boston during the summer of 1637.  Most of the passengers had planned to remain in the Boston area, but two conditions coincided to persuade them otherwise.  First, the Antinomian Crisis was approaching its culmination.  The disenfranchisement and disarmament of 75 men and the flight of hundreds of others south to Rhode Island or north to what are now New Hampshire and Maine affected the colonies profoundly.  The controversy divided friends and families; few escaped unscathed.  The new settlers, having just arrived in their Puritan Utopia, found that Utopia rent asunder.  Boston, they decided, would not do.

 

Meanwhile, the Pequot War was nearing its bloody climax, and in its aftermath the Pequot Nation was destroyed and its people scattered.  The Pequots' territory, which stretched along the western part of what is now Long Island Sound, was to be appropriated and colonized.  The Davenport group, primarily wealthy merchants with vast shipping experience, found this opportunity all too tempting and concluded that establishing a port city on the Sound, able to control the shipping routes between Massachusetts and New Netherland and surrounded on three sides by productive farmland, had great appeal.  Such a move, however, was not without risk.  They had received from England only the permission to emigrate and settle in New England; they had not received a royal charter to establish a colony.

 

Nonetheless, they left Boston in the spring of 1638.  Skirting Cape Cod, they sailed west along the southern New England shoreline, past the Connecticut River and the Fort at Saybrook, finally settling at the mouth of the Quinnipiac River, between Connecticut Colony to the east and New Netherland to the west. 

 

New Haven Town, the first settlement in New Haven Colony, was planted at the intersection of the Quinnipiac River and two freshwater creeks.  The location appeared promising.  To the north, iron-rich basaltic rocks rose from the ground creating a vivid red bluff.  Between the coast and the bluff, the settlers found cornfields previously cultivated by the Quinnipiac and vast salt meadows.  Beyond these stretched extensive forests.  The settlers established temporary dwellings, either tents, wigwams, or cabins; some even dug cellars into nearby hillsides and dwelt in them until permanent homes could be built.  A surveyor laid out the town in a traditional pattern of eight square sections surrounding a green, which held the town marketplace and meeting house.  Each section was known by its most prominent resident.  The section where the minister lived was known as "Mr. Davenport's Quarter", and the section where the future governor lived was called "Mr. Eaton's Quarter." 

 

Blessed with significant resources, including money and servants, the planters began building their homes.  While some likely resembled the early, simple homes of Plymouth, others boasted timber frames, shingle or clapboard siding, and wood-shingled roofs.  The grandest home, the Governor's, was said to contain a great hall large enough to seat 30, a parlor, the Governor's study, a winter kitchen, a summer kitchen, a buttery, a pantry, several bedrooms, and 19 fireplaces.  The grounds included a brew-house, a warehouse, and stables.

 

Jasper and Alice Crane and William and Elizabeth Tuttle were among the first settlers.  The Cranes and the Tuttles acquired property in the best areas of town.   They lived within a few hundred feet of one another – Jasper Crane in Mr. Davenport's Quarter and William Tuttle in Mr. Eaton's Quarter – on lots of a similar size.   Both men built large, timber frame houses with clapboard siding and wooden roof shingles.  Having become good friends, the men often debated matters of local interest.  One day Jasper inquired, "Do you think, William, that the right to vote should be dependent on Church membership?"

 

William, who professed a strong faith but did not necessarily think that faith should be a prerequisite to civic participation, responded cautiously, "Well, 'tis an interesting question.  I understand the Separatists of Plymouth, esteemed Reverend Hooker, and Reverend Roger Williams believe that church membership should not constitute a requirement for the voting franchise."

 

"This is true," responded Jasper, "yet the Massachusetts Bay Colony ministers believe that the right to participate in government should only be extended to the most righteous men and that would include only Church members.  Reverend Davenport believes that since the Scriptures hold all truth and provide guidance on how to live a righteous life, how to raise a family, and how to manage a government, then it follows that only men who follow Scripture closely should be rewarded with the right to vote in town and colony affairs." 

 

"I understand the arguments in favor, and I believe them to have the appearance of correct thinking.  Yet, there have been other religions before ours; there are others now, and there will undoubtedly be more in the future.  Should we not seek to learn from those who think differently?"

 

"Bah," snorted Jasper, "Papists, Anglicans, Baptists, Anabaptists – they are all heretics and deserve no say in governing a proper Puritan colony. Nor do I condone Reverend Hooker's theology; he is far too liberal for me.  Williams is no better; why he had to leave the Bay Colony due to his foolish ideas regarding the separation of church and state.  At next week's meeting, I hope the peoples' will is to restrict the franchise to Church members."

 

Considering the man who walked alongside him, William thought, I did not know you were so close-minded, Jasper.  I doubt our Colony will thrive if we do not welcome others into it. But he said only, "Agreed.  The will of the people should decide." 

 

At a meeting in Newman's barn in June 1639, the proprietors of New Haven signed the "Fundamental Agreement" creating a rigid theocratic society that limited the right to vote and hold public office to male Church members.  Both Jasper and William signed the document.   This Fundamental Agreement immediately disenfranchised several New Haven settlers and over time negatively impacted both town and Colony by discouraging potential settlers from moving there.

 

In August, the First Church of Christ was founded, and in October the seven "Pillars" organized themselves as a civil court.  The first court meeting was held soon thereafter.  The first case to come before the court was that of Nepaupuck, a Quinnipiac War Captain who confessed to killing several Englishmen during the Pequot War.  Nepaupuck had also kidnapped Mary Swaine during the Wethersfield raid; however, this was not one of the charges at his New Haven trial.  Nepaupuck was found guilty, sentenced to death, and beheaded.  His head was then "pitched upon a pole in the market-place."[ii]   With Nepaupuck's execution, the town of New Haven began its strict implementation of governance according to Scripture. 

 

John Whitehead, a youth of 13, arrived in New Haven in time to witness Nepaupuck's punishment.  John had come to New England under the care of a man named Hall.  His mother, Elizabeth (Alcock) Whitehead, who lived in England, had decided to send John and his brother Thomas, both minors, to live with her brother George Alcock, of Roxbury in Massachusetts Bay Colony.[iii]  She arranged for the boys' passage and entrusted them to Hall.  However, when they arrived in the colonies, Hall decided to keep the boys with him and never contacted their uncle.  Hall convinced the boys that they were indebted to him for their passage, and so they did not seek outside assistance.  Eighteen months after their arrival in New Haven, their Uncle George died. 

 

Hall and the Whitehead boys moved into a hillside cellar that the original settlers had dug into the hills northwest of town.  This provided shelter from wind and snow but was vulnerable to heavy rains, which soaked through the dirt ceilings.  Later, they built a small house with a thatch roof and a few windows in the Herefordshire Quarter of the town.  There they remained, with the boys performing labor at Hall's behest for several years.

 

In 1641, the General Court inquired about the situation, but Hall asserted the legitimacy of his guardianship and claimed that the boys lacked any relatives in New England so the Court ordered that Hall "shall have liberty to dispose of the children… provided that they be well looked unto and well used."  Hall soon transferred the brother's servitude to someone named Hitchcock and ordered Hitchcock to pay Hall "what is due for the boy".  John Whitehead remained with Hall.

 

In 1647, the Court received a letter from an attorney representing another uncle, Thomas Alcock of Boston, and again intervened.  Summoned before the Court, Hall claimed that he had paid the boys' passage and that George Alcock's death left Hall with no choice but to keep the boys.[iv]   At this point, John was 21 and had worked for Hall for eight years.  Expressing little concern over Hall's crime, the Court nonetheless ordered Hall to release John and pay him 50 shillings, which Hall did.  Once released, John remained in New Haven and went to work for Jasper Crane.  In time, he accompanied Jasper to Branford, married Martha Bradfield and raised eight children to adulthood before dying in 1695.  His case, like that of the More children who accompanied the Pilgrims, demonstrates the perils that befell children sent to the colonies with unreliable guardians.

 

After New Haven town, the towns of Milford, Guilford, and Stamford were settled and joined together with New Haven town to create New Haven Colony.  Branford and Southold (Long Island) also joined.  New Haven Colony never obtained a royal charter, and when Connecticut received one in 1662, New Haven was merged into Connecticut.  This catalyzed an outflow of people who objected to Connecticut's more liberal attitudes and moved southwest to establish Newark, New Jersey. 

 

Jasper Crane was one of those who moved to Newark as was Samuel Swaine, brother to Mary.  William Tuttle remained in New Haven and became known primarily for the wild behavior of his children.
 

Thirty-five

The Dutch in North America: New Netherland Colony

 

The Dutch approached colonization differently than the English.  While Pilgrims and Puritans focused on religious freedom and community, the Dutch focused on trade.  The qualities the Pilgrims found lacking in Holland, strict adherence to a moral code, rigorous religious observance, and respect for the elderly, were also lacking in New Netherland.  In the free-wheeling Dutch colony, business trumped community, and profits trumped everything else.   First explored in 1609 by Henry Hudson as he searched for a northwest passage to the Indies, the area that would become New Netherland eventually stretched from Albany in the north all the way to Delaware in the south and included the islands of Lange Eylandt (Long Island), Staaten Eylandt (Staten Island), and Manhattes Eylandt (Manhattan), along with parts of what would become the states of New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Maryland, Connecticut, and Delaware.  Eventually a small yet thriving settlement called New Amsterdam sprang up on the southern tip of Manhattan Island; however, the Dutch took less care than the English to nurture good relations with the Natives, and so they never achieved the relative security of the English colonies. 

 

In 1624, the States General of the United Provinces (the Netherlands) granted a 24-year trading and colonization monopoly to the Dutch West India Company, a commercial trading company.  The DWIC specialized in the slave trade, and it might be said that its settlements reflected a certain disregard for human dignity as well as a razor-sharp focus on profitability.  Rather than setting up governmental organizations separate from its corporate structure, the DWIC installed company employees in traditional government roles.  Instead of governors, the DWIC appointed corporate directors to manage the province.  It ran its books the same way; the Provincial Treasury was nothing more than a Corporate Treasury.  When the directors sought to augment the corporate coffers, the DWIC developed creative ways to boost income, such as squeezing the tax-paying residents of New Netherland or attempting to tax the Natives.[v]  Through the Patroonship plan, the DWIC granted wealthy men large tracts of land, the right to independently settle most judicial cases, and fur trading and fishing rights.  In return the "Patroon" brought settlers at his own expense.  New Netherland's Director-Generals, including Minuit, Kieft, and Stuyvesant exploited both Native and colonial residents, pursuing financial advantage above all other considerations.  This would ultimately cause the DWIC to lose control of New Netherland to England, but in the late 1630's and early 1640's ambitious men viewed New Netherland as a likely place to make their fortune.

Beginning in early 1638, an enterprising young Dutchman named Cornelis Melyn sought his fortune in New Netherland and traveled on a yearly basis, sometimes multiple times per year, between the Netherlands and New Netherland.  Known for his corpulent build, aggressive nature, and regrettable lack of tact, Cornelis harbored grand ambitions, whose success would be repeatedly thwarted by his less savory personal characteristics. 

 

Sailing back to New Netherland after an absence of several months, Cornelis inhaled the crisp, salty air of the harbor as it stretched wide and welcoming before the ship.  The island of Manhattan lay before him, covered with forest except for the southernmost tip, which had been cleared to accommodate the small settlement of New Amsterdam. 

 

Was this his 11th or 12th trip between the Netherlands and North America?  He couldn't remember.  Let me see, he thought, I came first on the West India Company's Het Wapen Van Noorwegen (The Arms of Norway) in the summer of 1638 and returned home on her the same year.  A most successful voyage, he chuckled to himself, remembering his duties as supercargo for the company and the 12,000 cod they caught and traded in France that summer.  Then in 1639, I sailed out and back on the Den Harinck (The Herring), I think, or was it the Brant van Troyen (The Fire of Troy)?  Ach, my poor memory shames me, he thought.  I do remember my good friend Jochem sailed that same year with his family, but were we on the same ship?  I think I would remember if we were.  Therefore, I think I must have sailed on the Den Harinck.  That was the year I first saw Staaten Eylandt, and the sight of that gentle island moved my heart.  As I gazed upon her forests, beaches, and small hills, I envisioned a bustling and profitable settlement, where I could raise my family, produce trade goods, and establish trading posts.  Upon my return to the Netherlands that year I applied for Patroonship of the island.  How Janneken and I rejoiced when the Company granted my application!

 

In 1640 I sailed for New Amsterdam again on the Engel Gabriel, but she was taken by pirates from Dunkirk, and so that does not really count as a voyage. Those greedy men from Dunkirk took everything, he fumed, remembering the personal and financial losses he suffered on that brief excursion.  My losses were so great that, to finance my next trip, I had to sell ½ of my interest in Staaten Eylandt to another investor.  But I knew the island would repay my investment many times in profit and in pleasure. I sailed again for New Netherland in 1641 on the Den Eyckenboom (The Oak Tree), and on that voyage I brought my beautiful Janneken and the children, including sweet Mariken. 

 

Upon arriving on the island, my men began to clear land to build our homes and trading post and to plant crops for the following year.  But alas, Director-General Kieft had not been as wise with the Natives as the English Governors had been, and the Natives waged a continuous war of retribution upon us.  No sooner had we settled into our homes than we were forced to flee to Manhattan to avoid certain death, and thank God for that, he thought, for the Raritan attacked mere hours after our departure.  Realizing that the island was too exposed and that our own government, such as it was, could do little to protect us, we remained in Manhattan until Kieft's ill-conceived war ended in 1647.  We bought the home of that woman, what was her name?  Ah, yes, Geertje!  I cannot remember her last name for she had quite a few.  She had been widowed many times, and unkind people gossiped that she might have helped the poor husbands along to their great reward.  Shrugging pragmatically, he thought, be that as it may, the house itself was a fine one, facing the bay, with beautiful views of the Hellegat ("Hell Gate" - now the East River) and located near enough to Fort Amsterdam to benefit from whatever small protection the fort could provide.

 

But peace was not to be had, for that rogue Stuyvesant, Kieft's successor, conspired against me and eventually confiscated our home and its surrounding lands.  To add insult to injury, he then sold them to his friends for pennings!

 

But my personal troubles with the local government were worse under Kieft, he mused.  So much so, that when the Company replaced Kieft with Stuyvesant, I petitioned the Company to open a formal investigation into Kieft's administration.  Kieft accused me of coercing the citizens of Manhattan into signing the petition!  As if I would!  Well truth be told, I would, but I did not!  I stood my ground, confident that the new Director would act in the interest of the settlers and investigate Kieft.  Unfortunately, however, Stuyvesant, who realized that a successful claim against his predecessor's authority might portend ill for his own authority, not only did not initiate an investigation, he supported Kieft and sought the death penalty for me – all for starting a petition!  Luckily, the Council settled for seven years of banishment and a fine of 300 guilders.  Too heavy a punishment in my mind.

 

Upon receiving my sentence, I was hustled onto the Princess Amelia, bound for the Hague, where I planned to argue my case before the States General.  Alas, the Princess Amelia was wrecked in the Bristol Channel, and I lost many a dear friend.  81 souls lost, and only 19 survivors.  Though Kieft too perished in that disaster – a blessing to us all. 

 

Ah well, I finally arrived at the Hague, and the States General granted me an appeal and a stay of proceedings.  Thus vindicated, I could return to New Netherland and concentrate on expanding my trading business.  But first, I would have to defang Stuyvesant.  If memory serves me correctly, I returned to New Netherland in the De Jonge Prins van Denmark (The Young Prince of Denmark), and I stopped in many New England towns so that I might obtain objective witness to the documents I carried both granting my freedom and requiring Stuyvesant to respond to my claims against him.  In this way I thought to forestall whatever underhanded tricks he might undertake to throw me into prison again.

 

But no sooner had I set foot in New Netherland with the court documents requiring Stuyvesant to answer for his actions when he again outmaneuvered me!  Claiming that the documents only required him to answer the claims against him but did not require him to appear in person, he sent his sniveling secretary, van Tienhoven, to the Hague to answer for his (Stuyvesant's) crimes.  Not to be thwarted, I kissed my beloved Janneken and the children and set about preparing my immediate return to the Netherlands.  Sailing in the Prins Willem (Prince William) - again, if memory serves me right – I was fortunate to make good speed and arrived at the Hague the same day as van Tienhoven, who had taken the coward's route to avoid the channel at Bristol, which had occasioned so many deaths the year before.  I cannot say I was pleased with the result of this trip.  Using much guile and benefitting from the slippery tongue of Van Tienhoven, Stuyvesant was able to persuade the court of his righteousness.  The court let him off with a mild rebuke, but at least he was not able to convince anyone that I was in the wrong!  Needing funds yet again as the never-ending pursuit of my freedom and rights had prevented me from engaging in the trade and other activities that would put food in my children's mouths, I divided my beloved Staaten Eylandt into thirds and sold a good part.

 

Finally, in 1650 I voyaged westward in the Nieuw Nederlandtsche Fortuyn (New Netherland's Fortune) along with 70 hearty colonists and a good cargo of goods for the island.  But this venture, too, failed when the ship was forced to put in at Rhode Island, and Stuyvesant caused her and her goods to be confiscated and sold under the law prohibiting the breaking up of bulk cargo prior to arrival in New Netherland.  When Stuyvesant appropriated my land in Manhattan, I was near despair, but with will and determination, I decided to try again on Staaten Eylandt.  Taking a rest from the constant travel of a merchant life, I devoted myself to colonizing.

 

Five peaceful years with my beautiful Janneken and the children followed.  Then in 1655, both Stuyvesant and the Natives struck.  First, Stuyvesant jailed me on trumped up charges of helping the Swedes with their Colony on the Delaware, which Stuyvesant strenuously opposed.  When, at the pleading of my dear Janneken, I was released, I hastened to Staaten Eylandt, where we were again attacked by the Natives.  My dear son fell; he was only 22.  Mariken's husband also perished, as did some dozen others.  The survivors were taken captive until we could ransom ourselves for 1,500 guilders.  All the while the Natives threatened to burn us alive.  Ach, what agony we endured!  They called this The Peach Tree War – too gentle a name for a terrible time.

 

Thoroughly disheartened, Janneken and I sought the protection of the English.  It had become clear that the West India Company could not protect us from the Natives and would not shield us from the depredations of that beast, Stuyvesant.  Our mistrust turned out to be well founded for when the Company learned that we had fled to New Haven, rather than acting to protect our interests, it moved to prevent me from selling my island to any foreign power.  As if I wanted to!

 

But time has a way of wearing one down, even a stubborn businessman such as myself.  When the Company offered to buy my island, along with my Patroonship, I agreed.  The following year I returned yet again to Holland, this time in the company of my two surviving sons.  We returned as quickly as we could on the De Liefde (The Love) in 1660.  The loss of Staaten Eylandt has been my greatest regret, and I have charged my children and grandchildren with the responsibility of reestablishing our rights to the island.

 

That is, he counted on his stout fingers, 12 trips in all.

 

Cornelis Melyn did not go quietly into oblivion.  In New Haven he clashed with the government and his neighbors.  The town frequently cited him for failing to follow through on his civic promises and not attending church services.  He sued his neighbors for things like forgetting to return a borrowed horse.  One notable disagreement with the authorities highlighted the free-wheeling capitalism of the Dutch market.  Hauled before the court for selling silk buttons at exorbitant prices, Cornelis expressed shock and dismay that the authorities would try to intervene.  If the clients were willing to pay, why should he not sell his buttons at the highest price possible?  The New Haven authorities disagreed that the market should determine the price for necessities such as buttons and fined Cornelis and prohibited him from future price gouging.

 

Cornelis disappeared from the records around 1663, and most of his family relocated to New York Colony (formerly New Netherland).  Mariken Melyn found happiness in New Haven with Matthias Hatfield, a German weaver and boatman originally from Danzig.  In early 1666, the young couple joined several other New Haven families who moved west to found Elizabethtown, New Jersey.

 

Thirty-six

Island Settlements: Long Island, Martha's Vineyard, and Nantucket

Long Island

Claimed by both the Dutch and the English in the early 17th century, Long Island stretches along for almost 120 miles along the southern coast of New England, with its westernmost point near New Amsterdam (New York City), and its easternmost point about 20 miles southeast of Saybrook, Connecticut.  To the north lies the Connecticut shore, to the northeast Rhode Island, and to the east, the Massachusetts islands of Martha's Vineyard and Nantucket.  The island's strategic location, with easy access to Virginia Colony to the southwest, New Netherland to the west, New England to the north, and direct routes to England to the east and the Caribbean Islands to the southeast, was no secret to European powers.  New Netherland claimed the western end of the island, yet few Dutch settlers made their way there, while the English pursued a more aggressive settlement strategy to the east.

 

The first two English settlements, Southampton and Southold, maintain an ongoing dispute as to which was actually the first to be settled.  Leaving that dispute aside, we turn to the settlement process itself.  Southold was settled in the traditional manner; a group of Puritans from New Haven followed their Minister across the sound to the eastern end of Long Island and planted a town.  Southampton's founding was a bit more colorful. 

 

In the spring of 1640, an advance party of settlers from Lynn in Massachusetts Bay Colony sailed to the western end of Long Island, well into the area claimed by the Netherlands.  Landing at Manhasset, the English group discovered a carving of the Prince of Orange's Coat of Arms providing notice of that claim.  The group's military leader, a certain Lieutenant Howe, removed the posted notice, and someone else replaced it with an unflattering caricature of the prince.  After enjoying a good laugh at the prince's expense, the group proceeded to clear an area in which to commence a settlement.  Alarmed, a local sachem hurried to Fort Amsterdam to report on the goings-on at Manhasset.  Within a few days, a force of 23 Dutchmen arrived to quell the invasion.  Upon disembarking, the Dutch came upon a total of 10 trespassers: 8 men, 1 woman, and a young child.  While the reports of an "invasion" seemed overblown, the proud Dutch took offense with the prince's caricature.  They arrested 6 men, including Nathaniel Kirtland, an adventurous young Englishman in his twenties, transporting them to Fort Amsterdam to face trial for trespass and other offences.  The Massachusetts, English, and Dutch authorities began to exchange increasingly heated correspondence and sent emissaries to their home countries to defend their positions.  The tiny Massachusetts contingent of settlers, undoubtedly acting with the knowledge of their Governor, had managed to provoke an international incident.

 

At their trial, Nathaniel Kirtland and his co-defendants denied having trespassed since the English King had granted Lord Stirling a Royal Patent for the island, making their presence there lawful.  As to the caricature, the Englishmen pleaded innocence – Lieutenant Howe was the perpetrator, they swore, and he was nowhere to be found.  While the Dutch wished to use the incident to solidify their claim to Long Island, pressure from the Netherlands, England, and Massachusetts convinced them to proceed cautiously.  They compromised by reiterating their claim yet released the men in return for a promise to permanently vacate the island.  Blatantly ignoring their promise, the English instead gathered their brethren and belongings from Manhasset and moved 70 miles east to found the town of Southampton. 

 

Nathaniel did not remain long at Southampton.  Southampton, like New Haven, sought to establish a strict religious settlement and lost many promising settlers due to this rigidity of thought.  By 1647 Nathaniel had returned to Lynn with his wife, Parnell, and their young children, but his role as an "international agitator" assured his place in Long Island history. 

 

The First Book of Records of Southampton provides a peek into religious interpretations of criminal punishment.  Containing "An Abstract of the Lawes of Judgement as given Moses to the Commonwealth of Israel,…" it lists various crimes and references the Bible passages that prescribe the appropriate punishment.  The first section deals with crimes of trespass, primarily animal trespass.  If a man's farm animal wandered onto another man's property and caused damage thereon, the animal's owner was required to pay full restitution for the actual damage caused (Exodus 12.5.6), but if the owner introduced his animal onto another's land and damage ensued, then the owner was required to pay restitution in the form of the best of his own property even if his property was more valuable than the property damaged (Leviticus 24, 18; Exodus 21, 34.)

 

The second section details the crimes punishable by death.  These included blasphemy; atheism; idolatry; witchcraft; attempting to persuade others to heresy; worship of God in a molten or graven image; profaning the Lord's day in careless or scornful neglect or contempt; plotting or acting to betray the country on behalf of a foreign state; rebellion; sedition; or insurrection; intentional murder; adultery; defiling a married woman; incest; "manstealing", and "bearing false witness against life."  Rebellious children who "continue in riot or drunkenness" or who "curse or smite their parents are to be put to death." 

 

Crimes resulting in banishment included consulting with witches; mere heresy (heresy with no attempt to persuade others into that heresy); reviling the religion, the worship of God, and the government of the Church; perjury; and disrespecting a Magistrate.

 

Lesser crimes, including swearing and cursing, wounding a freeman, drunkenness, rape[vi], fornication and others, were punished with loss of honor or office; loss of freedom; loss of right to give testimony; corporal punishment – whipping, branding, or having one's tongue bored, or, in the case of fornication, marriage or providing a dowry to the woman.

The "Abstract" appears to have been rarely enforced at Southampton, and a more lenient approach to punishment prevailed.  However, soon after the town's founding something inspired the authorities to add a law prohibiting the giving or lending of guns, pistols, powder shot, bullets, matches, swords or any other weapons to Natives.  For breaching this law, a man would forfeit his entire personal estate at Southampton and also receive corporal punishment. 

 

East of Long Island, several islands lie about 30 miles off the southern shore of Massachusetts.  They are Martha's Vineyard, Chappaquiddick, Nantucket, and Tuckernuck.  The islands were not included in any of the original New England governments, rather, they (like Long Island) were granted to the Earl of Stirling, who in turn conveyed them to Thomas Mayhew of Watertown and his son Thomas Jr. in 1641.  Mayhew conveyed Nantucket to Thomas Macy, John Bland alias Smith, and several others in 1659 for the price of 30 pounds and two beaver hats.  The islands' isolated location and small size presented little strategic or economic value to the colonies, and this enabled them to operate independently.  Thus, regardless of the named governmental authority, their inhabitants were free to practice, among other things, their preferred religious beliefs. 

 

The Curious Case of John Bland alias Smith

John Smith draws attention if only for the curiosity aroused by his name as he was often described as John Bland alias Smith or John Smith alias Bland.  According to court documents, he was "sometimes called John Smith, yet his real name and his ancestor's name was Bland," which does little to clear up the confusion.

 

John Bland alias Smith arrived in Watertown, Massachusetts Bay Colony, in about 1635 with his wife Isabel and their two daughters, Isabel and Annabel.  His daughters soon married and his wife died, and he looked elsewhere for a place to spend his final years.  Settling upon Martha's Vineyard, he established himself there by 1646 with his second wife, Joanna.  He participated in subsequent land grants there through at least 1660 and appears to have done nothing else to raise eyebrows except for a curious notation in his will wherein he leaves 10 shillings a piece to his daughters "Anable and Isable who are all the children that are aLive whome I own…".  It is not the paltry sum of 20 shillings that attracts attention but rather the reference to "owning" his children, which raises questions about his parental rights (did he really think he owned the women, aged 53 & 55 at the time of his death?) or was he attempting to forestall claims by any other "children" who might come looking for a share of the inheritance?  As with other curious conundrums from colonial times, this one will not likely be resolved, and we are left to ponder another historical mystery.

 

The Macys and the Gardners: Early Nantucket Settlers

Nantucket settlement occurred after Martha's Vineyard.  In about 1659 Thomas Macy moved to the island from Amesbury in Massachusetts Bay Colony where he had established himself as a pillar of the community and amassed considerable wealth.  Like other New England towns, Amesbury suffered endless quarrels over religion as Puritans sought to exclude Baptists, Quakers, and other so-called heretics from their midst.  Thomas, a reputed Baptist and a sympathizer to those outside the mainstream Puritan faith, was denounced to the authorities for the crime of "entertaining Quakers".  On the day of his trial, ill and unable to procure a horse, Thomas sent a letter to the Court begging forgiveness for his absence and explaining that he had merely allowed the Quakers to find shelter from the rain and had soon sent them on their way.  Unpersuaded, the Court fined Thomas a considerable sum and admonished him.  Fed up with Amesbury's religious intractability, Thomas and his wife Sarah joined a group planning to purchase the island of Nantucket from the Mayhews and move there.  The Macys and their five children packed their belongings and sailed to Nantucket, settling at Madaket Harbor on the western end of the island. They were the first English family to establish residency on the island.  Tradition holds that the Macys, having ventured forth in late fall experienced the same privations that had beset the English since the arrival of the Mayflower.  With the onset of winter, their provisions dwindled until in desperation they turned to the local Wampanoag for assistance.  As usual, the Natives responded generously, and the Macy group survived until spring when they could clear the land and plant for themselves.  If true, this anecdote shows that the English had been making the same mistake - moving in the fall with insufficient resources to hold them over until the next harvest - for almost 40 years. 

Nantucket became known as a haven for Quakers and other dissenters, and while Thomas never converted to that faith, after his death Sarah did. 

 

In 1666, Richard Gardner, a "well-known Quaker adherent" and his wife Sarah, who was repeatedly fined for not attending Puritan services and was ultimately excommunicated from the Salem Church for being a Quaker, moved to Nantucket to escape the increasingly hostile environment in Massachusetts Bay.  Richard became the first Chief Magistrate of Nantucket and enjoyed a long life there dying, along with Sarah, in 1724 at the age of 92. 

 

Prior to their deaths, the Gardners became involved in the "Nantucket Insurrection" also known as the "Half Share Revolt," which erupted when some of the newer arrivals to the island, many of whom had become quite prominent, sought to democratize the local government.  The factions were led on the one side by the newcomers Richard Gardner and his brother, Captain John Gardner, and on the other by oldcomer Tristam Coffin, a competent but rigid and  autocratic leader.  Thomas Macy and William Worth, both Richardson ancestors, sided with the Gardners.   The Garders seemed to prevail when in 1673, Richard Gardner was selected Chief Magistrate, and his brother John was appointed to the position of Chief Military Officer.  Soon after this, Nantucket's governance was temporarily thrown into question when the Dutch recaptured New York.  When the English regained control of New York and the islands, Richard Gardner went to obtain clarity as to the island's political situation with Governor Andros of New York.  Fearing the Gardeners would exert undue influence on the Governor, Tristam Coffin sent his own representatives to petition him on behalf of the oldcomers.  And so it went for the next 6 years until Coffin finally died in 1681, and the "Nantucket Insurrection" withered away, the newcomers having prevailed and democratization of town governance able to continue unchallenged.

[i] While it is well known that the English regularly rounded up boys and men, forcing them to serve in the navy, it is less well known that they also impressed entire ships, forcing them into naval service as well.
[ii] Significant controversy surrounds the trial and sentencing of Nepaupuck.  Historians have noted that killing enemy combatants is not usually considered "murder" in its common criminal context and question whether Nepaupuck, familiar with tribal retribution yet unfamiliar with English law, should have been counselled not to confess to murder.
[iii] George's wife, Anne (Hooker) Alcock, sister of Reverend Thomas Hooker, had died in 1631.
[iv] Clearly a lie since George Alcock did not die until December 1640, 1 ½ years after the boys had arrived in New England.
[v] Director-General Kieft's ill-advised attempt to tax the Lenape triggered Kieft's War, in which Anne Hutchinson and her children were massacred.
[vi] The Records state: "Forcing of a maid or a rape is not to be punished with death by God's Laws."  This is the only instance where care was taken to explain why a more severe punishment was not imposed.

 

PART TEN

Puritan Intolerance Spins out of Control

 

One of the ugliest episodes in New England history occurred in the late 1650's when Puritan antagonism toward other religions reached its zenith in the persecution of Quakers.  The Quaker religion had only recently emerged in England.  Quaker adherents, duty-bound to spread their faith by extending pastoral care to all Quakers and any other individuals who demonstrated an interest in the faith, suffered the consequences.  Their sworn duty came into direct and violent conflict with the Massachusetts Bay Puritan government and clergy.  Willing to banish their own, Puritans proved even more ruthless toward members of other religions.

 

Thirty-seven

Mary Dyer, the Quaker Martyr

 

In 1638, just after the banishment of Anne Hutchinson and the disarmament and disenfranchisement of her male supporters, the Dyer family followed William and Anne Hutchinson into exile on Aquidneck Island, a large island on the central coast of what is now Rhode Island.  At first, the Dyers remained near the Hutchinsons and with them, co-founded the township of Pocasset (Portsmouth, R.I.) on the northern part of Aquidneck.  Later, the Dyers moved south on Aquidneck to found the town of Newport.  William Dyer served as Recorder, Clerk, and Secretary of Rhode Island and became its first Attorney General in 1650.  He accepted prominent positions within the English and Colonial governments, including twin commissions by England and the United Colonies as Admiral and Commander in Chief Upon the Seas for the War with the Netherlands.  He remained active in colonial affairs throughout the remainder of his life.

 

Mary Dyer, William's wife, seemed destined to leave an equally important colonial legacy.  She impressed all who met her.  Most described her as being quite attractive, learned, pleasant, God-fearing, and "of good estate".  Nonetheless, Mary sought more out of life, and her ongoing religious quest, the only viable path to intellectual advancement for women of the 17th century, led her to explore and embrace spiritual ideas outside those commonly accepted by the community.  Ultimately, her legacy was most unexpected.

 

Mary and William travelled to England in 1651, leaving their six children, aged one to fifteen years old, behind in Rhode Island.  William returned to New England in 1653. Mary remained in England, returning to Rhode Island and her family in 1657, after an absence of six years.  While in England, she became acquainted with the Society of Friends, and converted to the Quaker faith. 

 

The Quaker Faith

 

Founded in England in 1651, the Society of Friends, or Quakers, believe that God speaks directly to the human soul and that no mediator, such as a minister, is needed to transmit His message.  God's voice, they believe, provides solace and consolation (the "Inner Light") directly to those in search of comfort.  Quakers did not observe traditional sacraments, rituals, and festivals; they did not practice baptism or celebrate the Eucharist; they did not follow a specific liturgy or religious rites, and they did not observe Christmas or Easter.  Their Meetings for Worship were often held in complete silence unless someone felt moved to speak aloud or to read from the Bible or another text.  Quakers were pacifists who refused to engage in armed conflict.  Staunch supporters of the notion of equality before God, they refused to remove their hats in the presence of people considered socially or financially superior.  Quakers also offered women more prominence than other religions did.  A Quaker woman who chose to preach was not considered outspoken, overly zealous, or unfeminine but rather moved by the same inner light as a man might be. 

 

These differences in behavior, belief, and worship aroused the suspicion of the established religions and resulted in extreme persecution of Quakers in England.  Quakers there were imprisoned, publicly whipped, had their tongues bored, and were branded.

 

Quaker missionaries arrived in New England in 1656.  Arriving first in Massachusetts, they were greeted with distrust and actively persecuted as a matter of routine.  Anti-Quaker laws soon followed.

These anti-Quaker laws made clear the Massachusetts authorities antipathy: Whereas there is a cursed sect of heretics, lately risen up in the world, commonly called Quakers,… one law began.  This law fined colonists for possessing Quaker books and writings and provided that Quakers caught in Massachusetts would be arrested, whipped, and transported out of the Colony.  Another law stated: This court being desirous to try all means, with as much lenity as may consist with our safety, to prevent the intrusion of Quakers, who, besides their blasphemous doctrines, do, like rogues and vagabonds, come in upon us, have ordered that every such vagabond Quaker shall be apprehended, and conveyed before the next magistrate, and not giving civil respect by the usual gestures therof, or by any other way or means manifesting himself to be a Quaker, shall be stripped naked from the middle upwards, tied to a cart's tail and whipped through the town,…  Like their English counterparts, these laws included punishments such as imprisonment, whipping, and mutilation.  To minimize the entry of Quakers into New England, another law fined ship masters who transported Friends to the Colony. 

 

Mary Dyer plunged headfirst into this charged environment.  She had been on a collision course with the Massachusetts authorities since the early 1630's, and she was no less intractable than they were.  Eventually, they would see in Mary Dyer both a woman of proven heresy (as demonstrated, they said, by the birth of her stillborn and deformed daughter) as well as a reminder of their former nemesis, Anne Hutchinson. 

 

Mary's conversion to Quakerism was predictable.  Persuaded by Anne that religion should be a personal experience manifesting itself as direct communication between God and the individual, independent from the interpretive efforts of a college-educated minister, Mary was primed to embrace Quaker theology.  Even better, she needn't choose between Anne's ministry or an ordained minister's ministry.  There was no need for a minster at all, for Quakers were free to accept God's message in quiet and private contemplation.  Mary embraced this concept fully.

 

She returned to New England as a Quaker missionary.  Having matured into a woman confident in her faith, she became even more resolute than Anne.  In Quakerism, she found her voice.  She accepted that serving as a missionary for her faith, despite the threat from the authorities, was her purpose in life even if it meant making the greatest sacrifice of all.  Her spiritual quest became paramount.  It took precedence over her husband, her children, her friends, and ultimately, her life.  

 

Upon arriving in Boston, Mary was apprehended at the dock and imprisoned for several weeks.  Conditions in New England jails were bleak.  The jails were primitive stone structures lacking heat, window glazing, and furniture.  The prisoners' families had to pay for their food and "lodging".  While the jailor might provide meager provisions, heartier fare, medicine, clothing, and blankets were either provided by family members and friends or were simply foregone.   Nor did prisoners benefit from legal protections.  Prisoners were held without being charged and without any idea of when their case might be heard.  Little, if any, effort was made to notify their loved ones of their location. 

 

Fortunately, Mary Dyer was a woman of means and resources.  She was able to smuggle a letter to William, and he traveled to Boston to rescue her.  Anxious to resolve the matter quickly and quietly, the authorities released Mary into his care on the condition that he remove her from the Colony immediately.  William complied. 

 

In 1659 the Massachusetts General Court decreed that all Quakers were to be sentenced to banishment on pain of death.  If they entered Massachusetts and were caught, they would be hung, not for being Quakers per se, but rather for defying the banishment order.  This, of course, did not deter the Quakers who believed that their duty was to support one another in their proselytizing. 

 

Mary returned to Massachusetts to visit two jailed Quaker missionaries.  She was arrested, held for two months, then released and banished on pain of death.  Within the month, she returned to visit another imprisoned Friend and was caught, jailed, and sentenced to death.  The first two missionaries, once freed, continued to travel and proselytize.  Upon returning to Boston, they too were arrested, tried, and sentenced to death.  The two men and Mary proceeded to their final trial.  At that trial, Governor Endicott expressed bewilderment at the Quakers' repeated incursions into Massachusetts.  "We have made many laws and endeavored in several ways to keep you from among us, but neither whipping nor imprisonment, nor cutting off ears, nor banishment upon pain of death, will keep you from among us.  We desire not your death."  That said, he nonetheless condemned the three to death.

 

During the trial, Mary stood calm and erect before the magistrates.  Previously considered a beautiful woman, this had not changed when, at 49, she confronted her accusers.  She radiated confidence and tranquility, and this appeared to enrage the male authorities who perceived her belief that she had a personal relationship with God as "audacity" and her self-confidence as "arrogance". 

 

Obviously exasperated, the Governor intoned, "Mary Dyer, you shall go to the place from whence you came, namely the Prison, and from thence to the place of Execution, and there to be hanged until you are dead."

 

"The will of the Lord be done," she replied.

 

"Take her away, Marshall," said he.

 

"Yea, and joyfully I go," she said.

 

The two male missionaries were hanged in October, having been led to Boston Common by a procession headed by a musical band that tried to drown out their fervent prayers.  The scaffold upon which they died was an old elm tree with a noose hanging from a sturdy branch.  Against the trunk of that massive elm leaned a short ladder, which the prisoners mounted with the noose already around their necks.  Once they arrived at the top, the cord was pulled taut and the ladder removed, leaving the victims swinging in the wind.

    

When her turn arrived, Mary accepted the noose and calmly mounted the few steps.  The hangman bound her arms and legs and wrapped a handkerchief about her head to cover her face.  Finally, he wrapped a rope around her skirts so that her modesty would not be compromised by a stray gust of wind.  Mary remained calm, even as many people present begged her to recant and save her life.  Smiling serenely, she refused to do so. 

 

Before the ladder could be removed, however, a commotion rose from the crowd, and a man appeared waving a document and crying, "Reprieve, reprieve!"  The General Court had once again relented and freed Mary from the penalty of death.  As cries of joy and relief surrounded her, she waited, quiet and attentive, trying to understand the Lord's will in this moment. 

The hangman led her down from the ladder, and she was taken back to the prison to await transportation to Rhode Island. 

 

In reviewing the reprieve later that evening, Mary made an unsettling discovery.  The document was dated some days before the hanging.  She later learned that to break her will and teach her a lesson, the Court wished her to be taken to the gallows and made to wait there while her friends were hanged.  Only after suffering the additional trauma of mounting the scaffold would she be granted a "last minute" reprieve.  This calculated cruelty hardened Mary's resolve to die a martyr at the hands of the General Court.  She left Massachusetts knowing that she would return.

In late May 1660, against the pleas of her loved ones, Mary returned to Massachusetts where she was arrested, jailed, tried, convicted, and sentenced to death.  At her trial, she refused to bow before the Court simply because she was a woman.  Upon hearing the charges and the sentence, she said, "This is no more than what thou saidst before."

 

"But this time it will be carried out," said Governor Endicott.

 

To which she responded, "I came in obedience to the will of God the last General Court, desiring you to repeal your unrighteous laws of banishment on pain of death; and that same is my work now, and earnest request, although I told you that if you refused to repeal them, the Lord would send others of his servants to witness against them." 

 

Mary never equivocated or seemed to lose heart.  Nor did she allow the threat of death to intimidate her into quiet banishment.  She protested, skillfully, willfully, and repeatedly, the persecution of Quakers.  On the morning of June 1, 1660, Mary was taken to Boston Common, hanged, and buried in an unmarked grave.  By all accounts, she lost neither her serenity nor her will during her last hours and moments.  One of the presiding officials was so moved by her serenity and grace that he returned home that day and converted to the Quaker religion. 

 

Other Puritans did not budge from their religious myopia. More typical was the reaction of Parnell Kirtland, widow of Nathaniel of Southampton and Lynn, who included in her will of 1694 language directing that "if any of my children (in these declining times) shall fall into Quakerism so-called or any other errors & heresies destructive to the fundamentals of the true religion my will then is that what I have bequeathed to them be disposed of among the rest of my children." 

 

PART ELEVEN

Living Up to One's Religion

 

The desire to establish a saintly community, awash with sanctity, love, and honor, often fell short of aspirations.  Ordinary humans struggle with their passions and desires, and sometimes the will to be good simply cannot overcome the desire to do wrong.  The following stories illustrate just how far from the path of righteousness an individual could stray.

 

Thirty-eight

Love Brewster's Problem

 

"And if a man lie with a beast, he shall surely be put to death; and ye shall slay the beast."

-The Holy Bible, King James Version, Leviticus 20:15

 

Love Brewster, the Plymouth Colony lad who bravely confronted the piked head of Wituwamet, was now 30, and he had a new problem.  Married for seven years to Sarah Collier, the daughter of the sole London investor in Plymouth to come to the New World, Love lived a quiet life.  He volunteered for the Pequot War but did not serve as the Plymouth volunteers were not called to duty.  The gentle lad grew into an equally gentle adult, and he took pleasure in his quiet life.  One day, this life abruptly changed. 

 

"Love, Love, are you there?" called Sarah.

 

Love could not answer – though he wanted to.  Turning away from her voice, he dry-heaved yet again into a small barrel at his side.  Drawing a cloth across his forehead, he tried to recover his equilibrium.  After some minutes, he called out, "Sarah, all is well, I have sundry things to do.  I'll be there shortly."

 

Hmph, thought Sarah, married seven years and still he cannot tell me what he is up to so I can know when to prepare dinner.  Well, fine, I'll take care of the children, and he will find a warm plate for his lonely dinner.

 

Wetting his cloth in fresh water, he rested it on his face, enjoying the cool sensation and trying not to think.  Yet think he must.  He had just come across his servant, Thomas, a boy of 17, committing a foul act with a horse.  He had no idea what to do or to whom to turn.

 

Love's father, William, was now 76 years old.  A kind man, much beloved by all who knew him, Elder Brewster surely did not deserve to be burdened with this spectacle.  No, he deserved to live his remaining years in peace at Brewster Lilacs, his Duxbury home.  Love's younger brother, Wrestling, and his two sisters were dead.  His older brother, Jonathan, was still alive and quite active in town affairs.  Perhaps he can offer me some guidance, thought Love, but when Love arrived at Jonathan's house his brother was away on business. 

 

Still sick to his stomach and becoming disheartened, Love mounted his horse and rode toward his father-in-law's house.  Thank Providence I have a second horse, he thought; I could not bear to ride the mare. 

 

Arriving at William Collier's home, he found his father-in-law there, entertaining Stephen Tracy, a good friend.  William and Stephen formed a mismatched pair.  William, shorter and plumper, had the air of a wealthy city dweller, confident and unflappable.  A gentleman in England, he spent his time building a commercial empire, serving as both a Magistrate and an Assistant for Plymouth Colony, and sitting on the more important colonial committees.  Stephen had been a weaver in Leiden prior to emigrating on the Anne with his wife, Tryphosa, and their daughter Sarah.  Accustomed to working with his hands, Stephen seemed to channel his thoughts through these as if by their movement they could loosen and enhance the flow of his thoughts.  He wasn't of the gentleman class.  In the New World, these differences did not prevent men from developing strong bonds, however, and William and Stephen enjoyed a warm friendship.

 

After exchanging pleasantries, Love struggled to describe what he had seen.  He swallowed once, then twice.  He wrung his hat in his hands.  He cleared his throat.  William and Stephen watched his struggles in confusion.  Love was not one to speak immoderately, but he had never shown quite so much reticence. Except when he came to ask for Sarah's hand in marriage, thought William fondly.

 

Finally, he asked, "Love, what on earth is the matter, son?  I see you are distressed, and I begin to fear for my family.  Are the children well?  Is Sarah well?  Speak, please, and calm my fears."

 

Before his father-in-law's worried expression, Love blanched, but he managed to croak, "They are fine. Tis my servant, Thomas, who presents a problem.  The young man hath been with my horse."

 

Puzzled, Stephen asked, "Did he steal your horse?  If so, we must hurry after him before he goes too far!  Have you informed Marshall Holmes?  That, too, we must do without delay."

 

"No, no," replied Love.  "He hath been with my mare; I mean to say he has committed foul acts with my mare…acts of an unclean nature," he added, in case his interlocutors thought the boy had merely been unkind to the animal.

 

Slowly, almost comically, the faces of the men shifted as they came to understand the exact nature of Love's pronouncement.

 

"Saints above!" sputtered Stephen, spewing beer into his mug.

 

William sagged into a chair.  He had heard of such things back in Old England.  The occasional awkward apprentice or lonely shepherd might engage in such acts.  He had not thought it might happen here, in God-fearing Plymouth.  Ah well, he thought, not even Plymouth is safe from wrongdoings committed by weaker souls. 

 

Having finally gotten past the hurdle of explaining exactly what young Thomas had done with the horse, Love described the events of the day.  He hoped that the young man might be treated with kindness and understanding.  However, he wanted Thomas gone from his house.  Agreeing that haste and discretion were paramount, Stephen left to find the Sheriff so that Thomas could be taken into custody.  Love returned home to distract Sarah and the children.  William sought out the other Magistrates to advise them of the situation. 

 

Thomas appeared before the Magistrates that week.  When he denied the claim against him, the Magistrates presented Love Brewster's testimony as evidence.  Then, weeping profusely, Thomas admitted to committing unclean acts with the horse.  Naively, he shared that he had engaged in similar behavior with other animals including a cow, two goats, various sheep, two calves, and one turkey.  Everyone listened in stunned disbelief. 

 

Marshall John Holmes, who would ultimately be responsible for carrying out Thomas' punishment, turned green.  A drinking man who was repeatedly cited for public drunkenness and required to pay fines and sit in the stocks, John was no stranger to bad habits.  The punishments had little effect, and he continued to drink both on and off duty.  However, he considered drinking a relatively mild sin, whereas this young man had committed atrocities.  As Marshall, he understood the implications of Thomas' confession and what the law would require as atonement. 

 

The Magistrates demanded that Thomas confess before the congregation on the Sabbath.  Thomas blanched.  How could he confess before the Ministers, women, and children?  Wondering why he had not exercised better control over his physical needs, Thomas hung his head in shame.  In the Meeting House next Sabbath, Thomas mumbled his confession.  When he finished, the Minister offered a sermon on self-control and godliness.  The service ended in uncomfortable silence.  The Pilgrims had been forced to pass judgment before and would do so again, but few crimes would arouse the disgust and contempt that Thomas' had.  Even the Ministers found themselves hard-pressed to plead for sympathy from the congregation.  As the Pilgrims left the meetinghouse, few could look one another in the eye.

 

Thomas was obliged to confess two more times.  His third confession was to the entire Court during his indictment.  The room, full of Magistrates, Deputies, the Governor, and the Deputy Governor sat in stone-faced silence as he was sentenced to execution.  Some of them had heard Thomas' confession all three times.  Few could muster compassion.

Days later, John Holmes led Thomas to a small hill, away from the center of town, barren except for the scaffold that had been erected the day before.  John led Thomas up the three stairs to the platform and read the terms of Thomas' punishment as described in Leviticus 20:15, "And if a man lie with a beast, he shall surely be put to death: and ye shall slay the beast."   

 

Thomas confirmed the list of his sins – his final confession.  Afterward, he wept silently as one-by-one, the animals that had been identified as the victims of his transgressions were brought before him and slaughtered.  Finally, he was hung. 

 

This event crushed the will of many of the men involved.  Stephen and Tryphosa Tracy returned to England soon afterward, leaving their adult children and grandchildren in New England.  Love Brewster never recovered from the shock and died 10 years later at the age of 40.  John Holmes lost his appetite for public office and almost disappeared from the record books save for a case of assault and trespass in 1651, in which he prevailed.  Only William Collier, the seasoned Londoner, overcame the tragedy, continuing to serve Plymouth in various high posts before dying at 86.  His daughter, Sarah (Collier) Brewster, Love's widow, married Richard Parke in 1656 and moved to Cambridge with some of her children, including William, a young lad of 11, who could barely remember the kind father who had died when the boy was only six years old.

 

 

 

 

Thirty-nine

The Sin of Suicide: Scandal in the Dwight Household

 

"About the 6th month last, there was likewise another woman, well reputed of, drowned herself at Dedham, - one Goody Dwite.  Two awful strokes unto all that knew them; & no little scandal, by accident, to religion; & a great brand of infamy upon themselves.  This is not the death of the righteous."  -Diary of John Hull.

 

After losing their son in the Dedham woods, John and Hannah Dwight had lived an uneventful life, raising their surviving son, Timothy, and three daughters, Hannah, Mary, and Sarah.  John assumed various leadership roles in the community, including multiple appointments as a Selectman over a 27-year period.  He served as a Constable, Surveyor of Highways, Lot Layer and Surveyor, Fence Viewer, and Overseer of multiple town improvements projects.  He joined several committees: to End Small Causes, to Buy 300 Acres, to Take in Debts, to Oversee the Mending of Bridges, to Examine Land to be an Indian Village at Natick, to Treat with Cambridge Men over the Purchase of Land, and to Treat with Roxbury Men for the same purpose, to Perfect the Line with Watertown, and finally, the Confidential Committee, whose purpose was… confidential.  He acquired over 100 acres in Dedham.  During his lifetime, John settled considerable property on his children, and upon his death, he left an estate of 506£, an amount equal to about $110,000 today.[i] 

 

Hannah died in 1656, and John remined a widower until January 1658.  That month he married the twice widowed Elizabeth Thatcher Ripley.

 

The marriage seems to have floundered.  In a will written after this marriage, John left Elizabeth the use of his house for three months "so that she may more comfortably provide for the removal of her habitation to some other place." By setting a 3-month time limit, John legally obligated his widow to abandon her home whether she wished to or not, which sounds cold-hearted.  Nor was he concerned about where she might end up.  The phrase "the removal of her habitation to some other place," seems purposefully disinterested.  The Dwights had lived in Dedham for over 20 years without a hint of scandal.  Did John's unconcern signal marital problems or something else?

 

In July 1660 Elizabeth Thaxter Ripley Dwight shocked the entire community by throwing herself down a well.  She must have suffered a ghastly death, and one wonders what provoked her.  Puritans considered suicide a sin, bringing great shame to the family.  Every effort would have been made to call her death "accidental".  Yet the records contain no such exonerating information, and John Hull's diary record remains the final word on her death, again leaving as many questions as answers in the historical record.

 

John Dwight passed away of natural causes in January 1661, but his son Timothy lived on to ensure Dwight descendancy.  Unlucky in love (he married 6 times and was widowed 5 times), but lucky in fatherhood, he had 14 children, most of whom grew to adulthood.  The direct male descendants of the family of John Dwight of Dedham would endure into the 21st century.

 

Forty

The Sin of Ambition: Thomas Willett, Mayor of New York

 

In her mid-forties in 1664, Mary Willett was a lovely woman.  Despite the birth of 13 children during her marriage to Thomas Willett, she retained a youthful figure and carried herself proudly.  Mary married Thomas in 1636.  He was the young Pilgrim trader who arrived in the colonies with the last of the Leiden congregation, only to be sent off to the Penobscot River trading post.  Of their 13 children, most survived childhood, and the four eldest were themselves now married.   The Willett's eldest child, Mary, married Samuel Hooker, the son of Reverend Thomas Hooker.  Samuel, too, was a beloved preacher, and Samuel, Mary, and their young family lived in Farmington, Connecticut Colony.

 

Mary acknowledged Thomas's ambition, yet, reflecting on their years together she was not displeased.  Thomas provided a good life for their family, and she felt grateful for this. Yet sometimes she wondered if success was sufficient recompense for the many days, weeks, and months spent without him.  Wouldn't it be better if he were a farmer? she sometimes mused – at least he would be home more often.  He was travelling when 8-year-old Rebecca died and when the infants Thomas, Hezekiah, and David passed.  Those had been difficult moments, and Mary had faced them alone.  Loneliness and solitary grief seemed a high price to pay for financial success.

 

That success resulted from a combination of talent, effort, and luck.  Luck prevailed during his oversight of the Kennebec fishing lodge.  He was reading his Bible when several Natives arrived intending, they later admitted, to kill him and his companions and steal the lodge's provisions.  Upon entering the lodge, the Natives noted Willett's concentration as he studied the book.  He did not glance up as they entered; nor did he bid them welcome.  Conferring about this odd behavior, the men concluded that he anticipated their plans and lay in wait, lulling them into complacency while simultaneously plotting a violent counterattack.  Abandoning their plan, the Natives disappeared into the woods resolving to forgo any raids while Willett was in charge.

 

Later, drawing on skills learned at trading and fishing posts and his strong work ethic, Thomas partnered with John Jenney in building a boat, embarking on a long and successful mercantile career.  Soon, he expanded his commercial activities to trading properties as well as goods, further cementing his reputation as an astute businessman.

 

In keeping with his education, experience, and rank, Thomas received governmental commissions and appointments in Plymouth.  Some came with honor and authority - in 1648 he succeeded Myles Standish as Captain of the Plymouth Military Company.  Others lacked both honor and power – he disposed of the town's cattle and received half a peck of corn to feed them.   He also ensured the town had a supply of coats to pay wolf-killing bounties. 

 

Thomas spoke Dutch and knew Dutch customs and successfully traded with the Dutch at New Amsterdam.  The New Amsterdam Governor trusted Thomas' neutrality and fairness so much that he appointed him to represent Dutch interests in boundary negotiations with the English.  Upon William Collier's death, Thomas replaced him as Assistant to the Plymouth Governor.  With Thomas travelling incessantly on professional and government business, the family relocated to the new settlement at Rehoboth, where Mary could be close to her father.  Everyone had difficulty tracking his comings and goings.  The children complained that he was never home, and Mary wondered again whether his success was worth the time apart. 

 

Thomas' multiple roles required political skill as well.  To cement English authority, Thomas persuaded the Iroquois to abandon the Dutch and support the English.  Yet, when the English planned to attack New Netherland, Thomas informed the Dutch Governor.  When hostilities ended, he helped the English negotiate the terms of Dutch surrender.  He managed to satisfy both countries, and with the Dutch defeat, Thomas Willett became the first English Mayor of New York.  Appointed for one year, Thomas worked to bring English rigor to the looser Dutch style of governing.  This proved tricky as Dutchmen retained certain authority, and they needed to be convinced to adopt English ways.  Thomas preserved the friendship and confidence of all parties, strengthened the local governing infrastructure, and obtained a second mandate as Mayor. 

 

During all this time Mary and the children remained in Rehoboth tending their farm.  The two youngest boys, Andrew and Samuel, were 11 and 8 years old when their father accepted the Mayoralty, and Mary considered moving with them to New York.  Familiar with stories of loose behavior in Leiden, however, Mary decided to protect her family from Dutch influences and remain in Plymouth Colony.

 

When Thomas finally returned home to Plymouth in 1668, Mary experienced such great relief that even his newest impulse, establishing the new town of Swansea, failed to perturb her. 

Oh dear, she thought, here we go again.  Thank goodness we can afford to hire help, for moving Thomas' library will surely not be easy.  Smiling she concluded, after all, having a loving and ambitious husband is not so bad, even if he is forever burying himself in his library reading about theology, history, law, navigation, and heavens know what else.  He came to this country with nothing, and he has built a fine estate and an even finer family.

 

Mary had little time to enjoy her new home as she passed away in 1669.  Thomas followed her in 1674.  Even in death, Thomas's luck held, as he and Mary were spared the massacre at Swansea that ignited King Philip's War in 1675, merely one year after Thomas' death.

 

Forty-one

The Sin of Fornication: Mary (Ball) Munroe: Abandoned Child, Abused Servant, Unwed Mother

 

Gritting her teeth, Mary Ball clung to the man on the horse.  As the trio sped along the trail of frozen dirt and mud, she observed the trees tall and naked in their winter slumber.  Trembling with cold and fatigue, she was also terribly nauseous, but a quick glance at her traveling companion's rigid back dissuaded her from pleading with him to stop yet again.  Huddled in a woolen blanket, worn away in spots and stained in others, she wondered how on earth she fallen so low, an unwed servant, pregnant with her master's child, and being transported by him, in haste and under cover of fog and mist, to family friends in Rhode Island.  Laying her forehead against the man's broadcloth coat, she closed her eyes and thought back to the unhappy years of her youth.

 

Born in Watertown, Massachusetts in 1651 to tailor John Ball, she remembered little of her mother, Elizabeth (Pierce) Ball, other than wild eyes and uncontrolled rages.  When Mary was 5, John Ball deserted Elizabeth and their five children, and they moved in with Elizabeth's parents.  Unable to assume responsibility for five children and a madwoman, John and Elizabeth Pierce, elderly and frail, apprenticed the three youngest children to other families, and kept Elizabeth hidden from neighbors' prying eyes.  The grandparents, the crazy mother, and siblings Mary and John settled into a life of unpredictability and tension.  The town children delighted in taunting Mary about Elizabeth's violent behavior and John Ball's equally violent responses.

 

"Aye, Mary," the children would taunt, "yer mother has a mean hook.  She used it to hit yer grandfather and threatened my mother more than once with it.  'Tis no wonder your father beat her.  My father says if he had such a wife, he would beat her regular."

 

When she was very young, Mary would become furious and show that she, too, knew a bit about fighting, but as Elizabeth's oddities escalated, defending her seemed pointless.  Elizabeth died when Mary was 12.  Mary's hopes that wagging tongues would fall silent were rewarded.  Her gossipy neighbors moved on to other topics. 

 

The respite did not last long.  Her elder brother, John, married and moved away, and then, her widowed grandmother died.  Her father lived in Lancaster on the Indian frontier with his second wife.  They did not invite Mary to join them there.  Too young to marry or to live alone in her home, Mary faced a conundrum.  Luckily, the Bacon family of Woburn offered her employment.

Michael Bacon, a shoemaker and farmer, was 28 when 15-year-old Mary joined his household.  Married with three children, Michael still found time to court the serving girl, quickly charming his way into her bed and impregnating her.  He did not take the news of the pregnancy well.

 

Frustrated and resentful at his ill fortune, Michael cast about for a solution.  Anxious to avoid the authorities, who punished "fornicators" with fines, public punishments, and even jail time, Michael determined to send Mary away before anyone discovered her condition.  He convinced her to flee to Rhode Island, where distant relatives, the Braytons, might take her in until something else occurred to him.

 

And so, Mary found herself astride a horse wildly galloping toward the ferry at Charlestown, which would convey her to Boston and thence to Rhode Island and the shelter of the Brayton household.  At the ferry dock, Michael unburdened himself of his young lover, leaving her to board the ferry to Boston alone.  He gave Mary some money, but it was insufficient to cover many nights lodging in Boston.  She must quickly find conveyance to Rhode Island.  She would also have to be careful in approaching the Braytons.  Calling them "distant relatives" was an exaggeration.  They were her cousin's in-laws, and she couldn't remember ever having met them.  Nonetheless, they had responded warmly to her letter asking to visit, and they had not asked inconvenient questions.  Placing her faith in Michael's promises, Mary set off on her journey, determined to wait patiently for him to retrieve her.

 

The Braytons received her warmly, yet the weeks dragged on, and by spring, Mary's pregnancy could no longer be hidden.  When the Braytons discovered her secret, Francis sat Mary down for a heart to heart.

 

"My dear," he began, "this situation cannot continue.  We cannot support you here and raise your child.  The father must acknowledge his responsibility and either provide support or come collect you and the child.  What have you heard from him in the months since you came here?"

 

Mary had been dreading this moment but felt a certain relief now that it had arrived.  She disliked deceiving the Braytons.  Twisting her thin fingers she replied, "I am sorry, sir, I have not heard from Michael.  I have written many times but have not received a single reply.  I do not understand it.  He professed his love to me many times, so I doubt not on that account.  I am sure something has occurred to prevent his letters from reaching me.  He must have fallen ill or suffered an injury."

 

A kindly man, Brayton held back the snort that threatened to erupt.  Gazing at Mary his face softened.  She was, he thought, really an extraordinary young woman and had brought much joy and laughter to the Brayton household in the months that she had dwelt there.  Francis and his wife were in their sixties, old enough to miss the sounds of children in the house and young enough to appreciate the presence of a sweet young woman.  Yet they could not keep her with them, and he knew that the rascal Bacon was neither ill nor injured.  Many young girls such as Mary, left without means of support, found themselves apprenticed out.  The young woman's fate rested largely on the character of her employer.  Often, men who ought to know better took advantage of the young woman's naiveté and need for love and attention.  Such men wormed their way into young hearts, and soon whispered words of commiseration proceeded to awkward pats of consolation, which developed into furtive embraces and then much more.  Alone in a busy household, forced to take on many of the domestic duties and with no one to protect them, the girls fell first into love and then into bed. 

 

"I am sure there is no need to fear for Michael, Mary," Francis replied, "however, something has interfered with his correspondence.  Here is what we shall do.  Since you are too big with child to travel to Woburn, you must write a letter to Michael explaining your circumstances.  Tell him that you are welcome to stay with us until the child is born but that you need money and will need him to see to your well-being and that of the child.  Remind him of the promises he made and the love you share.  I am sure that will jostle his memory and spur him to action.  I will deliver the letter myself to ensure it arrives in the right hands."

 

Mary thought this a fine plan, and a few days later Francis traveled to Massachusetts with every intention of seeing that Mary obtain satisfaction from Michael.  Arriving at Bacon's home, Francis confronted him and showed him Mary's letter.  Whatever feelings of love Michael had once felt – or whatever remorse he might have felt for his part in Mary's disgrace – were not in evidence as he faced Brayton.  Throwing the letter to the ground, he denied causing Mary's pregnancy and suggested that the old man had been misled.  He told Francis to leave his home or else he would call the Magistrates.  Stalking away he banged the door on the way out to emphasize his righteous annoyance. 

 

Bending stiffly to retrieve the letter from the floor, Francis sighed.  He had expected this.  Initiating his backup plan, he left Bacon's home and headed directly to the Magistrate, whose name and address he had previously ascertained.  Finding the gentleman home, Francis explained the predicament and offered Mary's letter as proof.  The authorities soon pieced together the story of Mary's time with the Bacons, her flight with Michael to the Charlestown ferry, and her subsequent travels.  They issued a warrant for Michael's arrest, and he was thrown in jail.  He escaped a few days later but was soon caught as he tried to board the ferry to Charlestown.  Meanwhile, Mary's father, John, finally stepped up and pressed charges against Michael for removing Mary from the Colony without her father's permission.  Michael's luck had run out, and he was held accountable for seducing a young, motherless girl and getting her with child.  Cornered on all fronts, Michael reluctantly conceded and signed a "bastardy bond" promising to provide financial support for Mary and the baby. 

 

After giving birth, Mary returned to Watertown to find employment.  She needed to find domestic work as this was all she knew.  She had two liabilities, though, which limited her possibilities.  First, she was the child of John and Elizabeth Ball, whose violent marriage and scandalous divorce were notorious.  Second, having borne a child out of wedlock, many housewives did not consider her fit company for their children and perhaps a temptation for their husbands.  Further complicating matters, New England towns did not welcome non-residents without means of employment or close family ties.  In such cases, the towns "warned out" the non-resident.  Mary suffered this indignity when the Watertown Selectmen came and told her she must leave.  With few places to turn, Mary packed her meager belongings. 

 

Then, Mary's life suddenly changed for the better.  William Munroe 's wife had recently given birth to her 4th child and was bedridden.  Desperate to engage a local woman to care for Mrs. Munroe and assume her domestic responsibilities, the Munroes ignored the rumors and offered Mary a place.  Perhaps their own sufferings had led them to look past Mary's ill fortune.

 

Born in Scotland in 1625 to a family with Royalist leanings, William Munroe fought in the Battle of Worcester in 1651 against Oliver Cromwell and the Commonwealth army.  The last battle fought in the English Civil War, Worcester proved a disaster for Scottish loyalists.  Some 3,000 Scotsmen died on the battlefield and of the estimated 10,000 men taken prisoner, thousands were exiled to various British colonies and prohibited from returning to Scotland.  Two-hundred and seventy-two were deported to Massachusetts Bay Colony on the John and Sarah, including William Munroe. 

 

Life was difficult for the Scottish prisoners in New England.  Many were uneducated, and most spoke only Gaelic.  Deprived of family, friends, money, and goods, the prisoners had to start over in a primitive colony where Scots were mistrusted, and the Gaelic language was unknown.  The prisoners came as indentured servants.  Yet, unlike servants who voluntarily indentured themselves in exchange for passage to New England, the political prisoners had no choice.  Sold into service for a period of 6 to 8 years, they had little hope of earning financial independence quickly. 

 

William Munroe quietly worked off his indenture at a small mill in West Cambridge, Massachusetts.  Once his indenture ended, he continued working at the mill for an additional six years to amass sufficient funds to marry and start a family.  In 1665, at the age of 40, William married Martha George.  They settled in Cambridge Farms (now Lexington), Massachusetts. 

 

Martha Munroe never recovered from her last confinement, and when she died, William could not work and care for four young children.  The family had come to depend on young Mary Ball, and it surprised no one when 48-year-old William proposed marriage to 21-year-old Mary.  Over the 20 years of their marriage, Mary brought another 10 children into the world, and the family prospered.  Both Mary and William, having suffered much in their early years, appeared to have finally found love and tranquility in a life together.

 

Forty-two

Broken Dreams: The Herrick Mystery

 

Henry Herrick died in Salem, Massachusetts Bay Colony in 1671.  His passing was not without controversy.  Having immigrated to the colonies in 1630, he established a successful farm in Salem and married Hugh Laskin's daughter, Edith, four years later.  They raised eight children and eventually moved to the new town of Beverly, a short ferry ride north across Salem Harbor channel.  Seven of their eight children were sons, and four of them married in due course and settled on nearby farms.  Henry had been an upstanding citizen since his arrival in the colonies.  He had served on all the important town committees, sat on the grand jury and the petit jury, and served as the town constable.  With a thriving farm and family, Henry chafed at the one mystery he could not solve.

The mystery concerned Thomas, his eldest son, who at age 37 remained unmarried, an unnatural state in the colonies.  To rectify the problem before dying, Henry added an unusual provision in his will.  Thomas, the will specified, would only receive his inheritance if he "did not live his life as a single man." 

 

Years later, when Thomas' brother, John, was about to marry, he explained the matter to Mary Reddington, his bride-to-be.

 

"Thomas," John began, "was our elder brother by quite a few years.  When we were young, Mother, Father, and most of the children were close, but Thomas always seemed a bit distant.  This might have been due to his age; he was almost 20 when I was born so we did not know one another well.  Father hoped Thomas would follow in Father's footsteps.  He expected Thomas to accompany him when he hunted or fished and to take an interest in the farm.  He expected Thomas to marry and start a family and become involved in church and town affairs.  But from an early age, Thomas showed little interest in these things.  He was a good son, and a loving brother to his siblings, but hunting, fishing, and farming failed to interest him.  In church he day-dreamed and never could recall the sermon in any detail satisfactory to Mother.  Nor did he become involved in town affairs.  He appreciated the friendship of other people, particularly that of women, and my brothers teased him because he seemed to enjoy time with the women of the house more than with the men.  We children thought little about it as we each had our own concerns."

 

 "Father began to behave oddly around Thomas.  He watched him when he thought Thomas wasn't looking, and he pushed him to spend more time with the men.  Mostly, though, he pressed Thomas to marry. Thomas had never shown interest in the local girls; he had many friends among the womenfolk of the town, but he never found someone to marry."

 

 "When Father died, he conditioned Thomas' inheritance on his finding a wife.  Thomas was almost 40 at the time, a good and loving son and uncle.  Why was Father so insistent, we asked ourselves?  Nonetheless, Thomas needed the legacy from Father, and so he began to court Hannah Ordway.  Hannah was not from Beverly, and we had little knowledge of her kin, but she seemed pleasant, honest, and hard-working, so Mother was content.  Thomas and Hannah married soon after Father's death, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief.  Now Thomas could inherit his portion and go on about his life." 

 

"In our ignorance, we missed the misery etched on Thomas' face as he took his vows and his lethargy during and after the wedding.  It proved more difficult to ignore Hannah's behavior.  After the wedding, she began to act strangely.  She spoke little and smiled not at all.  Within weeks she left Thomas' house and returned to her family.  She petitioned the court for a divorce, accusing Thomas of impotence.  He did not argue, and after hearing testimony and debating the matter, the Court granted the divorce, declaring the marriage null and void and giving Hannah her liberty as if the "pretended" marriage had never been.  The court ordered Thomas to return her marriage portion and prohibited Hannah from making any claim on Thomas' estate." 

 

"Again, we sought answers that were not forthcoming.  Thomas could not, or would not, behave as a husband should with his wife.  Thomas tolerated no questions on the matter and began disappearing for long stretches of time; we knew not where.  Nor did we know why he could not love Hannah or some other girl, and we still do not." 

 

Stopping abruptly, John turned away from Mary.  It was true he did not know with certainty why Thomas could not be a husband to Hannah, but he had his suspicions.  He'd heard snide remarks about men who preferred men to women.  When he was young, this had confused him because all boys liked boys better than girls.  As he matured, he learned that friendship differed from romantic love.  Thomas did not feel romantic love for women, and that was where the matter stood.  Neither John nor anyone else in the family could bear to ask whether Thomas felt that love toward men. Best not to mention his suspicions to Mary, he thought.  After all, they were only that, suspicions.

 

John's explanations soothed Mary's doubts, and they married in 1674.  John died after only six years, leaving three young children, the eldest of whom, John Jr., would come of age just as the Salem witch hysteria took root in Massachusetts in 1692.  John Jr. was raised by his mother, Mary, and her second husband until Mary's death some years later.  In the intervening years, his uncle Thomas slipped into obscurity, and the family did not speak of him, but John Jr. often wondered what had become of the quiet man who had been unable to find the girl of his dreams and hoped that he would have better luck when he reached manhood.

 

PART TWELVE

War

 

Several Richardson ancestors participated, in one form or another in the war that broke out between the colonists and the Natives in 1675.  The following chapters describe the war itself, and within its context, snippets of our ancestors' experiences when they found themselves in the center of a deadly conflict.

 

Forty-three

King Philip's War 1675-1676

 

By late summer 1676, King Philip's War had been dragging on for over a year.  Beginning with isolated attacks on outlying villages and homesteads, it had turned into the bloodiest war to touch the New England Colonies.  Started by the younger son of Massassoit, Metacom, now Sachem of the Wampanoag, the war arose from the Natives' realization that English thirst for land would soon leave Native Americans without hunting and fishing grounds, agricultural lands, or free passage in New England and would likely eradicate Native culture as colonists forced Natives to adopt English ways and laws. 

 

Metacom, called Philip by the English, recognized this as his people's last chance to protect their territories and way of life.  To prevail, the tribes would have to unite under one banner.  From his home in Pokanoket, also called "Mount Hope" (Bristol, R.I.), Philip developed a plan to wage war upon the English and either drive them into submission or force them to abandon North America.  Upon hearing of the plot, the Plymouth and Massachusetts Bay authorities moved quickly to thwart Philip; however, their efforts merely forced him to show his hand a bit earlier than he had perhaps anticipated.  The quick colonial reaction denied Philip the opportunity to fully unite the tribes, which ultimately contributed to their defeat.  By the end of the war, thousands of men, women, and children on both sides lost their lives, over 1,000 colonial homes were burned to the ground, several colonial towns were destroyed, and others were severely damaged.  Most northeastern Native communities were completely wiped out.  The spirit of the Native population was quashed, and the Anglo-American identity was born.

 

Timothy Dwight

 

None of these end results were apparent to Timothy Dwight as he rested against the trunk of an ancient elm tree whose stately and widespread branches provided much needed shade to a war-weary soldier. 

 

Colonial militias were New England's only fighting forces.  England lacked the money, manpower, and desire to protect the fledgling colonies with standing armies, so it had authorized the settlements to organize their own defense.  Towns maintained lists of "Men able to bear arms," which contained the names of all the male residents between the ages of 16 and 60.  Each able-bodied man devoted several hours a week to training and was expected to keep his weapons in working condition.  He was also expected to fight in time of war. 

 

Soldier, thought Timothy, now there lies an irony.  I am no soldier; I am a farmer in a young colony whose need has called many to military duty.  What did I think on, he wondered, during our weekly militia training as I raised my weapons and learned to drill, aim, and shoot?  Certainly not that I would be called forth on expedition after expedition, month after month, to do battle against our former friends upon our shared lands.

 

During the many hours of idleness common to soldiers in time of conflict, Timothy often thought of his family and home.  He had been married to his 3rd wife, Anna, for 11 years.  Together they had three sons, Nathaniel, 10; Josiah, 8; and Seth, 3; and expected a fourth soon.  Three other children: Josiah, Samuel, and Anna, had died young.   Somewhat unlucky in marriage, Timothy lost his first wife, Sarah, after only one year, and his second wife, also called Sarah, after ten years.  His second wife had borne him four children, the eldest of whom, Timothy Jr., had also deployed.  Timothy longed to return home to kiss Anna and play with the children – he prayed he would live long enough to realize these longings.  Perhaps that might help drive away the images of suffering and death that invaded his dreams too frequently now.

 

Edward Hutchinson

 

At the beginning of the war, hopes for a peaceful resolution were high.  The colonists wanted peace on their own terms and did not see the Natives as equals; nonetheless, they believed they could negotiate a one-sided peace treaty, one which benefitted colonists much more than the Natives.  To that end, 62-year-old Captain Edward Hutchinson, son of William and Anne Hutchinson, set forth into Nipmuck territory in north central Massachusetts.

 

Edward had lain low during his mother's trials and remained in Massachusetts after his parents fled to Rhode Island.  He established a large farm in Native territory, which owed much of its success to knowledge and skills learned from his Native neighbors.  His relations with the Nipmunk were positive; he had gained their friendship and trust, and he returned those sentiments.  Having successfully concluded other diplomatic missions in Native territory, he was a natural choice as a peace negotiator. 

 

Captain Hutchinson's orders were to ascertain the Nipmunk's and the Narragansett's intentions and determine whether they supported King Philip as had been reported.  Edward was further ordered to engage militarily with any Natives who displayed enmity toward him and his group or attempted to thwart the fulfillment of his orders.  His military escort included Captain Thomas Wheeler of Concord and 20 of Wheeler's men.

 

After a four-day march, the group arrived in Nipmunk territory, where they found deserted villages and a few Natives who fled upon seeing them.  Edward found this behavior troubling; he usually received a warmer welcome when he ventured into Nipmunk lands.  Not finding anyone with whom to negotiate, the group sent a reconnaissance party to locate the Nipmunk Sachems, who were said to be gathering some miles away.  The party reached the Sachem's encampment and arranged a meeting between the Sachems and Captain Hutchinson, to take place the following day at 8 am on a plain near the town of Brookfield.  Arriving at the designated location, several Brookfield colonists awaited, but Edward again found no Natives present.  While the negotiating party debated next steps, they received conflicting advice.  Wheeler's soldiers and Native scouts counseled caution, believing that the Nipmunk's failure to appear at the meeting place was a ruse designed to lure the colonists to a place of ambush.  The Brookfield men who had great confidence in their own relations with the Nipmunk, urged the group to continue further into the territory to try and find the Sachems. The Brookfield men prevailed, and the group continued onward.

 

The party soon entered an area known as the Quabaug Swamp, where they were forced to march single file along a narrow path.  Scanning the brush and woods alongside for signs of trouble, the men didn't realize they had already fallen into a trap.  As arrows and bullets began to fly, the colonists, spread out along the path, made easy targets for the Natives camouflaged by the woods.  The Natives blocked the path behind the colonists as the latter marched by, making retreat impossible, and continuing forward meant certain death.  The only possible escape was to scale a steep, rocky hill.  Some managed to escape that way, yet others, fearing for the men left behind, turned back toward the narrow path to try and rescue those trapped there.  Within minutes, eight colonists perished, including all the Brookfield men, who had ridden ahead of the others and were the first to fall.  Five others were wounded, including Captain Hutchinson.  Five horses died, shot out from under their riders; others did not survive their wounds.  The surviving mounted troops gathered the wounded, scaled the hill, and made for Brookfield, led by their loyal Native scouts.  The skirmish became known as "Wheeler's Surprise".

 

In Brookfield, the negotiating party sounded the alarm, and the residents gathered at the garrison, the town's largest and most easily fortified house.  As the colonists worked to secure the house, small groups of Native warriors slipped into the town.  Before the colonists could send messengers to the Council at Boston, the warriors attacked the garrison.  The fortifications held, but the war had officially begun. 

 

Throughout the Brookfield siege and a subsequent march to Marlborough, Captain Edward Hutchinson's strength waned.  Eighteen days after the ambush, he succumbed to his wounds and perished.  After Wheeler's Surprise, the colonials ceased negotiation efforts.

 

The War Escalates

 

At the beginning of the war, Natives garnered more successes than the colonists.  Following the pattern established at Brookfield, Native warriors would choose a target, slip into town early in the morning and lay multiple fires, which were lit all at once as dawn broke over the town and the attack began.  Sometimes, the town inhabitants received warning of the imminent raid and were able to take shelter in fortified garrison houses.  Other times, they were surprised in their beds or the fields or even during church services.  The attacks occurred throughout New England in what are now the states of Massachusetts, Connecticut, Rhode Island, and Maine.

 

Early on, the colonial militia engaged primarily in rescue operations and defensive maneuvers.  Patrolling the forests and fields, the soldiers relied on their Native scouts to bring them the information they needed to respond to attacks.  Once a surprise attack began, the militia rushed to defend the town, but many civilian lives were lost before the soldiers arrived.  Nor were the militias themselves safe from attack as the Natives, expert in using the natural features of the land to disguise their movements, ambushed the troops as they patrolled the forests. 

Recognizing that they needed to establish more permanent and secure outposts so the troops could remain deployed further afield, eventually, the Massachusetts and Plymouth militias built a fort and fortified more homes.  However, the enemies use of guerilla tactics, with surprise attacks of concentrated fury after which warriors melted into the forests, required the militia to pursue the warriors into remote areas, and most small battles began and ended with no clear winner or loser.  Facing the likelihood of an endless war of ambiguous outcomes, ambushed patrols, stealth attacks on nearly defenseless villages, and unexpected yet deadly skirmishes, the colonists realized that to prevail, they would have to change their strategy and fight the war on their own terms.  They decided to strike a decisive blow.

 

The Narragansett had built a large fort on a patch of solid land in the middle of a swamp in what is now South Kingstown, R.I.  While the colonists were not technically at war with the Narragansett, the colonists believed the tribe planned to join Philip and might be harboring hostiles within the fort.  Aware that many Natives had retreated to winter homes near the fort, the colonial authorities sketched out a plan for an attack there.  That battle became known as the "Narragansett Expedition", the "Great Swamp Fight", or more ominously, the "Great Swamp Massacre".

 

Approximately 1,000 colonists, including Massachusetts, Plymouth, and Connecticut forces, and 150 Native allies fought on behalf of the Colonies.  The total number of Native warriors sheltered inside the fort is not definitively known, although contemporary accounts estimated them to be "in the thousands".  

 

In early December 1675, Massachusetts and Plymouth forces assembled on the Dedham Plain southwest of Boston.  On December 9th, they marched southwest from Dedham Plain to Woodcock's Garrison at Attleboro, a distance of about 25 miles.  From there they continued southwest to Seekonk, another 20 miles or so.  On the 3rd day they headed east to Providence before again turning southwest to Wickford, covering about 30 miles.  The troops spent several days at Wickford scouting and engaging with roving Native bands.  On December 18th, the Massachusetts and Plymouth men marched 8 miles to Pettaquamscutt, planning to meet the Connecticut forces at Bull's Garrison and rest up for the coming battle.  Arriving at Bull's they found nothing more than a burned-out shell.  The Natives, having received intelligence that the colonial army intended to gather there, had razed the building to deny them that refuge. Without shelter, the colonial troops were forced to camp in an open field and endure the bitter cold of a December snowstorm.  

 

After a rough night, the troops awakened early and prepared for battle.  Moving about to keep warm, the men ate their rations silently and huddled around sputtering campfires.  The snow had accumulated in windblown drifts, and the day's march would not be easy.  Orders had been given to approach the Narragansett fort with caution, and so the march, through deep snow and in bitter cold, followed a circuitous route toward the great cedar swamp in which the Narragansett sheltered. 

 

Thomas Hazen

 

Trudging through the snow, the Massachusetts troops, both foot and horse, led the vanguard.  Not yet 18, Thomas Hazen was among the youngest soldiers fighting for the United Colonies.  Born and raised in Rowley, north of Boston, Thomas had an independent streak uncommon in young men of his upbringing.  As a second son, he did not expect to receive a large inheritance, since most colonists followed the ancient Biblical rule of granting a double portion of the parents' estate to the eldest son.  With 11 siblings, one of whom would inherit a double share, he would receive only a small part of his father's estate.  He hoped that serving in the militia would enable him to gain experience outside of Rowley, where he knew everyone, and everyone knew him.

So far, his military experience had disappointed.  Military service, he thought, was boring.  When the men weren't marching endless hours through barren landscapes stripped of color and cover by a New England winter, they were waiting.  Waiting for the arrival of scouts bringing intelligence about the enemy's movements, waiting to receive word from their fellow combatants, waiting to receive supplies, waiting to receive news from Boston, waiting for the commanders to plan attacks and retreats, staff garrisons, set watches, and issue orders. 

 

And waiting was a cold business.  The men huddled around fires to keep warm, but the fires themselves were meager.  Gathering wood for fires proved a dangerous undertaking as Natives patrolled the forests picking off any soldiers who strayed too far from the larger force.  The colonists could gather only firewood that lay close by.  This meant there was never enough wood; there were never enough fires, and the fires were never big enough to truly warm them.

 

Today will be better, thought Thomas.  Today we'll see action at last. 

 

As a soldier in Major Appleton's First Company, Thomas was not among the first to reach the enemy fortification.  That honor had been given to Captain Johnson's Fourth Company and Captain Davenport's Fifth Company.  Thomas didn't mind.  He had spent sufficient time with military men to know that the supposed glory of being among the first combatants to breach a fortification was often balanced or even outweighed by the disproportionate loss of life that afflicted those in the vanguard.  The attack on the Narragansett Fort proved no different, with Captains Johnson and Davenport both falling early in the battle along with many of their men. 

 

At the fort, the Fourth and Fifth Companies found a narrow gap in the exterior wall of the newly erected structure.  While this allowed access to the fort's interior, it forced the soldiers through a narrow bottleneck.  Unable to breach the gap in large numbers, they trickled through as the size of the opening and their own speed dictated.  Once inside the fort, they took heavy fire from Natives sheltered in the fort's blockhouse.  Experiencing heavy losses, including both of their captains, the first two companies fell back. 

 

Abiel Lamb

 

Abiel Lamb considered himself an unfortunate man.  Born posthumously to Thomas Lamb, Abiel had been raised in Roxbury by his mother, Dorothy, and her second husband Thomas Hawley.  His friends often asked, "Abiel, how can you think yourself unlucky?  Half of the Winthrop Fleet passengers perished within a year.  Rich and poor, young and old, married and not, many died.  Your parents were lucky!  They survived the journey, survived the first year, yea they made a life together in New England for 16 years!"

 

"Yes," Abiel would respond in his mournful tone, "but as you know, my father died just before my birth, and I grew up unwanted by my mother and unloved by my stepfather.  The absence of a father is not easily overcome."

 

Even when Abiel emerged unscathed from a dangerous situation, he only focused on the dark side.  At the Battle at Hassamanameset, while running to engage the enemy, Corporal Lamb outran his own company.  Gradually, as his men and those of his superior officer fell away, Abiel was left running alone save for one other soldier.  Miraculously, after making themselves clear and easy targets for enemy fire, they both survived, yet Abiel viewed it as merely another stroke of bad luck.  In the Great Swamp Fight, Abiel, serving in Captain Johnson's Fourth Company, survived the disastrous initial assault, while Johnson fell as he scrambled over the fallen tree trunks at the breached wall. 

 

Another combatant, William Woodcock of Hingham, who also fought under Johnson had little patience for Abiel's complaints.  William barely escaped death during the battle and had lost too many loved ones to count, including a nephew who fell at Woodcock's Garrison.  That youth's head had been mounted on a pike and placed on a hill within sight of the Woodcock family.  The Woodcock's have experienced real suffering and not the self-indulgence of a thoughtless fool, thought William.

 

Like William, most people tired of Abiel's constant pessimism.  When his stepfather was killed at Sudbury the following spring, more than one mourner commented on how "unlucky Abiel" had survived yet again while his mother Dorothy was left a widow with nine children and several grandchildren.  After the war, Abiel married the widow Elizabeth (Clark) Buckminster and had four sons of his own.  Yet he never escaped his own cheerless character.

 

Gershom Cutter

 

Gershom Cutter of Cambridge, on the other hand, couldn't believe his luck.  Born in New England to Richard Cutter, a cooper (barrel maker), and his wife, Elizabeth, Gershom was a simple farmer of sturdy stock.  His family immigrated to New England with his grandmother, Elizabeth Cutter, a 65 year-old widow. 

 

Gershom had been impressed into the army under Captain Davenport along with Edward Winship of Cambridge and John Bigelow of Watertown.  Unlike those two men, he had not been excused from service by reason of age or infirmity and went on to see action in several skirmishes and battles.  When Captains Davenport and Johnson both fell early along with many of Gershom's friends, he couldn't help but feel lucky that he escaped alive and unwounded.

 

Samuel Tarbox

 

As the survivors of the Fourth and Fifth Companies fell back under heavy fire, Captain Mosely of the Second Company and Captain Gardiner of the Sixth Company arrived, and upon entering the narrow breach in the fort wall, suffered similar results.  Fighting under Captain Gardiner, Samuel Tarbox, a young father from Lynn, pushed resolutely forward with the rest of his company, across the open territory, through the narrow gap, and over the fallen logs.  Finding himself within the fortification at last, he zigzagged ahead, trying to reach the captain, hoping to find a point of relative security from where he could fire his musket, reload, and fire again.  As part of the infantry, he was keenly aware that without cover fire from the cavalry, the foot soldiers were imperiled by the length of time needed to reload their muskets.  The Natives had the same problem, but that was cold comfort in battle. 

 

Rate of fire was not the only concern.  Firearm inaccuracy, due largely to the lack of rifling inside the bore of the weapon, remained a problem.  Bullets hurtled loosely down the gun barrel, with nothing to guide their path once they exited.  Luckily, in the close quarters of the Great Swamp Fight, inaccuracy was less of a factor than it was in the open field.  With the enemy often within 10-20 feet, the chances of hitting one's target improved greatly. 

 

As Samuel penetrated further into the fort he focused on the terrain and the movements of the fighting men inside the enclosure.  Concentrating on finding the enemy before the enemy found him, and on reloading his weapon rapidly, Samuel did not see Captain Gardiner fall, shot through the head at close range. 

 

Samuel Marshall

 

The next officers to arrive, Major Appleton and Captain Oliver, had better luck.  Observing the situation and recognizing the attack's flaws, Appleton explained to Oliver that if they followed a similar approach, they too would suffer great losses.  Instead, he argued, they should form a wider line and rush the entrance, widening at as they pushed through.  The tactic proved effective, and Appleton and Oliver breached the gap in greater numbers and with fewer losses.

 

The Connecticut troops arrived next, and lacking the skill of the major, repeated the mistakes of the first four captains who tried to enter the fort – again suffering heavy losses from musket fire directed at them from the blockhouse just inside the wall. 

 

One of the first Connecticut men to fall was Captain Samuel Marshall of the Second Company.  Captain Marshall had only recently been promoted, having previously served as a Corporal in the First Connecticut Cavalry.  A man of 50, Samuel had served the colonies well in various militia posts over the years, and he was well qualified for his current role.  Competence and experience failed to sustain him in this battle however, and he died at the head of his men as the Connecticut forces began their initial assault, one of four Connecticut captains to die that day.

 

Meanwhile, Appleton, having entered the fort, began to reduce the enemy numbers, which enabled the combined militias to continue the assault with greater success.  The tide seemed to be turning.

 

Thomas Hazen

 

Thomas Hazen was no longer bored.  After many hours of fighting, he was tired, hungry, and longing for home.  If he never had to shoot another human being, wrestle in hand-to-hand combat with a sweaty, adrenaline-charged enemy, or dodge bullets, hatchets, and arrows, that would be just fine.  He cheered heartily when Native warriors began to melt silently into the woods beyond the fort.  As relief swept through the colonial troops, though, Thomas was stunned to hear a new order ring out, "Fire the wigwams!"

 

Reports indicated the wigwams were filled with the old, the infirm, women, and children.  Lined with grain-filled bags and barrels, they were impenetrable to bullets, a safe haven for those within.  Since they sheltered noncombatants, the colonists' original orders had been to spare the wigwams.  However, when Native warriors entered the wigwams and began shooting at the militia from within, the situation became more complicated.  Even so, Thomas doubted that he had heard correctly.

 

Fire the wigwams?  What on earth could they mean?  There were many wigwams within the fort enclosure, and there were hundreds of noncombatants within the wigwams. 

Feeling sick to his stomach, he looked for corroboration and found it in the form of ranking officers and ordinary militiamen launching burning torches toward the structures.  Thomas remained rooted to the spot.  He considered himself a good man, and though more than willing to take up arms to defend his country, he wanted no part in this massacre of innocents.  Yet, what to do?  An order had been given.  His reprieve came in the form of another order.

 

"You, there!  Move along!  Gather as many of the wounded as you can and carry them beyond the walls."

 

Gratefully, Thomas complied.  Rushing here and there, in and out through the walls even as they too began to burn, he dragged as many of his fallen compatriots outside the fort as he was able.  Soon the wigwams were ablaze, and Thomas could not escape the sounds of screaming and moaning or the smell of scorched flesh mingling with the scent of pine and other woods as the fort began to burn. 

 

Later, with victory assured and night falling, Thomas heard the longed-for call to withdraw.  Gathering their wounded and dead, the men began the long march back to Wickford, a journey of 16 miles.  Dusk fell, windy, damp, and frigid.  Scanning the dark woods for enemies, the tired men trudged onward dragging 210 wounded and slain compatriots.  Twenty-two wounded men died during the march; another eight died once they reached camp.  About 68 colonists lost their lives during and immediately after the Great Swamp Fight. 

 

While the Great Swamp Fight proved to be a decisive turning point in King Philip's War, the tribes fought on, unwilling to concede victory to the English intruders.  The Narragansett, led by Canochet, entered the war and fought until his capture and execution.  Killed by a Mohegan Sachem, a Pequot warrior, and a Niantic Sachem at the behest of the English, Canochet's body was drawn and quartered and his head was sent to the English at Hartford.  Over the course of the war, Natives suffered many deaths at the Battles of Great Falls, Nipsachuck, Dedham, Great Barrington, and the Great Swamp Fight. Eighty Narragansett warriors were slaughtered by colonial forces upon surrendering at Warwick.

 

The colonial towns of Middleboro, Dartmouth, Pawtuxet, Lancaster, Warwick, Providence, Chelmsford, Marlboro, Sudbury, and Halifax were destroyed.  Mendon, Brookfield, Springfield, Deerfield, Hadley, Framingham, Weymouth, Medfield, Groton, Northampton, Longmeadow, Old Rehoboth, Bridgewater, Scituate, Hatfield, Hadley, and Taunton were attacked and suffered grave losses.  Colonial forces were ambushed at Northfield, Bloody Brook, and Central Falls. 

 

Colonial Noncombatants

 

Noncombatants fell in large numbers during the war.  Timothy Dwight of Medfield died during the attack there.  Timothy was John Dwight's brother and uncle to Timothy Dwight of Dedham.  At 67 he was too old to fight in the war.  Recent attacks on nearby Weymouth, Swansea, Taunton, and Lancaster caused the citizens of Medfield to fear they might be next.  The Minister requested aid, and the Governor responded by sending 125 troops, including 20 horsemen.  The Medfield militia men welcomed the soldiers and billeted them in their homes, five of which had been fortified to serve as garrisons. 

 

The presence of reinforcements and defenses may have led to a false sense of security, for Medfield was caught unprepared when, early on a bitterly cold February morning, 300 Nipmuc and Narragansett warriors snuck into town.  Building a series of bonfires, the warriors used the flames to torch small bushes and thatch rooftops.  Lighting the first fire at Samuel Morse's house, the Natives signaled the assault. These fires maximized property damage and loss of life.  They terrified the villagers whose homes were mostly made of wood and thatch.  They also forced people to flee the safety of their homes and into open space where warriors could kill them with firearms and arrows.

 

The attackers did not set fire to Timothy Dwight's house.[1]  Instead, they began throwing rocks at the home to draw out the occupants.  Opening his front door to see what was happening, Timothy was shot in the shoulder and died some weeks later.

 

Henry Adams suffered a similar fate when, upon opening his front door, he was shot in the neck and died on the spot.  His pregnant wife fell victim to friendly fire.  Lying on a pallet on the second story of one of the garrisons, she died when a soldier on the first floor accidentally discharged his weapon.  The bullet punctured the room's ceiling and killed Elizabeth Adams and her unborn child. 

In Plymouth, Susanna and Jacob Mitchell, and John Pope (Susanna's brother) were killed as they fled toward a garrison house during an attack.  Fortunately, the Mitchells had sent their children to the garrison the day before, and they survived.  In Swansea, Thomas Willett's friendship with King Philip did not protect his son, Hezekiah, who was killed by "strange Indians".  Samuel Bullen and Thomas Wood survived the attacks but lost their homes to fire. 

 

King Philip's War Ends

 

In the final battles of the war John Burnap, John Dickson, John Dodge, Timothy Dwight, Moses Johnson, Jeremiah Jewett, Nathaniel Kirtland, Thomas Leffingwell, Jacob Leonard, Thomas Sawin, Henry Spring, John Stearns, Christopher Webb, John Wheeler, and William Ward fought honorably, many of them serving together under Captain Brattle in one of the last encounters with the Native Americans.  

 

The war ended when a small group of colonists and Natives snuck into the Metacomet's refuge at Mount Hope.  John Alderman, a Wampanoag Christian, shot and killed Metacomet (King Philip).  Metacomet's body was beheaded, drawn, and quartered, and his head mounted on a pike, where it remained for 20 years, a gruesome successor to Wituwamet, who had met the same fate 53 years earlier.  Members of Metacomet's family were sold into slavery as were many other Indigenous people.  The war devastated the Southern New England tribes and led to an uneasy 13-year period of peace. 

 

Timothy Dwight served his last days as a soldier in August 1676.  Little Henry Dwight was born in December.  The family's joy was short-lived, and tragedy struck the Dwight household again in 1685 when Anna died.  Their youngest, a boy named Jabez, died a few days later.  After Anna's death Timothy married three more times, but the marriages were brief, and Timothy did not have more children.  In his later years, Timothy continued to serve Massachusetts as Dedham's Representative to the General Court, as Justice of the Peace, and as a Selectman.  He died in 1718, having reached his 89th year. 

 

Four of Timothy and Anna's sons survived adolescence and went on to found dynasties of their own.  Henry Dwight became a farmer, merchant, and judge, as well as a captain in the militia.  He married Lydia Hawley by 1703, and they had 10 children, nine of whom lived to adulthood.  He was the first slave-owning Dwight. 

 

PART THIRTEEN 

Pennsylvania, Religious Haven

 

While the most barbarous anti-Quaker restrictions in New England were tempered somewhat after the martyrdom of Mary Dyer, widespread ambivalence meant that Quakers had yet to find safe haven in the colonies as late as 1680, some 60 years after the Pilgrims arrived seeking a safe place to practice their religion. 

 

In 1681 William Penn, Jr. received a 50,000 square-mile land grant from King Charles II of England in payment for a debt the king owed Penn's deceased father.  The territory had only recently come under English control.  Prior to European settlement, the Lenape, Susquehannock, Munsee, Shawnee, Iroquois, and Erie tribes inhabited the area. 

 

Sweden, its first European colonizer, claimed the land as part of New Sweden from 1638-1655.  Ignoring Swedish claims, the Dutch established trading posts and a fort along the area's rivers, provoking the Swedish Governor to attack the fort.  In retaliation for that attack, Peter Stuyvesant, Director General of New Netherland, seized control of the area.  It then became part of New England when the Dutch territories were ceded to England in 1664. 

 

Penn, a prominent English Quaker, founded Pennsylvania Colony as a haven for Quakers and other religious groups unwelcome in the New England colonies.  He arrived in Pennsylvania in 1682 and founded the city of Philadelphia, where many other English Quakers settled.   Soon thereafter, Quakers from Wales established the "Welsh Tract" northwest of Philadelphia and settled the towns of Merion, Haverford, and Radnor.  The Welsh dreamed of a "state within a state" where they could speak their own language and govern themselves independently.  Irish Quakers colonized the Wilmington area, and Dutch and German Quakers settled in Germantown.  Over the course of four years, 113 ships filled with Quakers and Quaker sympathizers arrived in Pennsylvania.  Soon members of other religions, such as Huguenots, Puritans, Catholics, Calvinists, Anglicans, and Jews joined the Quakers there. 

 

Forty-four

Bevans and Richardsons in Pennsylvania 1687

 

John Bevan, the widely respected and influential Lay Preacher, Judge, and Assemblyman, came early to Pennsylvania.  Originally from Treverig in Glamorganshire, Wales, John was wealthy and well connected, a friend to William Penn.  Raised in the Quaker faith, John fell in love with and married Barbara Aubrey, a non-Quaker, who came to embrace the religion, and eventually convinced John to emigrate.  When word came that Penn had established a colony in the New World as a haven for Quakers and other nonconformists, she went to John to plead her case.

"John, we must think carefully about the opportunity Friend Penn has made available," she said.  "I worry greatly about our children here in Wales.  They suffer the worst sorts of loose behavior from youths hereabouts, and the adults are no better!  They set a bad example, and I fear the corrupting effects on our young ones.  We should consider the benefits of raising them amongst sober people in a land of freedom and new ideas."

 

John took Barbara's words to heart and considered the matter.  Her motives, he thought, were pure, and her reasoning was sound.  Nonetheless, it would be painful to leave family and friends behind.  Although, for the children's sake it might be best, he thought.  After all, we can always return to Wales if the Pennsylvania experiment fails.[2] 

 

Heeding Barbara's advice and his own inclination, John joined other Welsh Quaker leaders at a meeting with Penn to understand how much freedom they might have in Pennsylvania and whether the Welsh might be allowed to purchase additional lands in order to create a self-governing Welsh community.  Comforted by Penn's responses, the Welsh leaders agreed to form several "Companies" made up of different families to purchase the 40,000-acre Welsh Tract.  The Tract lay west of the Schuykill River and corresponds with today's Upper and Lower Merion, Haverford, Radnor, Tredyffrin, East Westland, West Whiteland, Willistown, East Goshen, West Goshen, East Town, and West Goshen Townships of southern Pennsylvania.   John purchased 2,000 acres for himself and the other members of his Company, and in July of 1683 the family loaded their goods on the Bristol Factor and arrived in Pennsylvania that same year.[3]  Upon arriving, they joined the newly established Haverford Meeting.

 

By 1695, their 18-year-old daughter, Elizabeth, had fallen in love with 29-year-old Joseph Richardson.  Joseph returned her feelings, and after an appropriately lengthy courtship, closely monitored by their parents and community elders, they sought permission to marry.  Both family and friends were supportive, which was important in the Quaker tradition where the lack of such support might impede a marriage. 

 

Joseph Richardson was the eldest son and heir of the wealthy and respectable Richardson family of Philadelphia and Bristol Township.  Samuel Richardson and his wife, Eleanor, had arrived in Pennsylvania from Jamaica in the West Indies, although it is likely that they were originally from England.

 

The Richardsons did not remain long in Jamaica, obtaining their dismissal from the Meeting at Spanish Town to emigrate to Philadelphia in 1683.  Upon arriving, they presented their admission certificate to their new congregation and joined the Philadelphia Society of Friends.  Samuel styled himself a "bricklayer" in early deeds.  Despite this humble description, Samuel purchased land tracts comprising several thousand acres evidencing his material wealth. 

 

Soon after arriving in Pennsylvania, Samuel embarked upon a long and successful political career, one that was not, however, devoid of controversy.  Over a period of 21 years, he served in both Pennsylvania houses, first as a member of the Provincial Council and later as a member of the Assembly.  He also served as a Judge and Justice of the Peace.

 

From its founding in 1682 to the American Revolution in 1776 Pennsylvania's colonial government consisted of a Governor, who served as the executive, and two parliamentary-style houses, the Provincial Council and the General Assembly.  From the beginning, there was tension between the three branches as each struggled to increase its share of power.  Sometimes those struggles reflected the tension between Quakers and non-Quakers in Pennsylvania. 

 

Originally, the Governor (Penn) had significant powers, including the ability to make, alter, and annul existing legislation, and to veto proposed legislation.  He also controlled the militia and held the power of appointment for a variety of official positions. 

 

The Provincial Council was the upper house.  The first Council had 18 elected members, three from each of Pennsylvania's six counties.  The Council governed when the Governor was absent, introduced legislation, oversaw the courts, appointed judges, regulated trade with the Natives, and created municipal regulations.  It was empowered to call and/or dismiss the General Assembly. 

The General Assembly served as a lower house.  The people elected its 200 members.  The Assembly had the power to approve or reject bills proposed by the Council as well as to propose amendments.  The Assembly could also levy and change taxes.

 

In 1684 Penn returned to England, and the fledgling Pennsylvania government immediately ran aground.  After numerous incidents, Penn appointed a Deputy Governor named Blackwell.  Blackwell, a Puritan, quickly antagonized the Quakers in both chambers.  Samuel Richardson was one of the aggrieved. 

 

Intelligent and self-assured, when first elected to the Provincial Council in 1688, Samuel shared his opinions forcefully and frequently.  He had a temper and often gave it free rein.  In one incident, he opposed Deputy Governor Blackwell's pet project, and Blackwell, who resented Samuel's refusal to acknowledge Blackwell's authority, accused him of speaking in an "unbecoming" manner and asked the Council to formally reprimand him.  Samuel became incensed.  Red-faced and huffing, he shouted, "I stand by my word.  Thee hast no authority as William Penn lacks the authority to appoint thee in his stead."

 

To this Blackwell ordered that Samuel recuse himself from the proceedings and leave the chamber until such time as he could master his emotions and recognize Blackwell's authority. 

Not intimidated in the slightest, Samuel responded, "I will not withdraw.  I was not brought hither by thee, and I will not goe out by thy order.  I was sent by ye people, and thou hast no power to put me out."

 

Furious, Blackwell put the matter to a vote, and almost the entire Council agreed that Samuel had overstepped.

 

"I'll goe then, and I care not if I am to be allowed to return," Samuel retorted.

 

Intent on setting an example against such defiance, the Council decided to recall Samuel and require him to acknowledge his error and promise that to be more respectful in the future, but to their collective frustration, Samuel had left the premises and could not be found.  Not to be denied his vengeance, Blackwell suggested that the Council fill Samuel's "vacant" seat.  Despite some discomfort with this approach – after all, Samuel had been elected to the Council by the people of the county – the Council agreed to elect a new member.  In that moment Samuel made a dramatic appearance.

 

"Mr. Richardson, what are ye doing here after so disgracefully comporting yourself in this chamber?" asked a colleague.

 

"I am here to discharge my duty as a duly elected member of the Provincial Council," came the reply.

 

Blackwell, now determined to replace Samuel by any means, suggested that the Council adjourn until afternoon.  When the hour for reassembly arrived, he positioned a guard at the door to prevent Samuel from entering the chamber.  The other members, increasingly uncomfortable with Blackwell's attempt to silence an elected representative, began a heated debate.  While Samuel's behavior was rude, they agreed, rudeness alone should not justify his permanent removal.  Pennsylvania, they argued, should operate more democratically, and the will of the people should not be so easily abrogated.  But therein lay the crux of the problem at this moment in Pennsylvania's history.  The King had granted Penn a proprietary charter, with broad powers to govern.  Blackwell knew Penn had little interest in ceding those powers and counted on Penn's desire to retain them to support Blackwell's autocracy.  The debate continued for several hours, and tempers flared.  More members defended Samuel than had before, but Blackwell carried the day, and the Council agreed to hold a new election for Samuel's seat. 

 

The people re-elected Samuel, who upon returning to the Council chambers was met with a repeat of the previous episode wherein a meeting was adjourned so that Blackwell could post a guard to prevent Samuel from entering.  By now, the other chamber, the General Assembly, disgusted with Blackwell's petty assertion of authority, presented a formal complaint stating that his refusal to seat Samuel at the Council was adversely affecting the Assembly's ability to perform its own duties.  Blackwell told the Assembly to mind its own business.

 

Facing a complete breakdown in the fledgling government, William Penn weighed in from England.  Recalling Blackwell, Penn authorized the Council to choose its own President and to perform the duties of the Deputy Governor as a body. 

 

Samuel served out his term and then another and finished out his political career with 14 years as a member of the General Assembly.  When the charter of Philadelphia was written in 1691, Samuel was appointed one of the original six aldermen, his name appearing first in the list of men chosen.

 

Samuel and Eleanor lived on a large farm in what was then Bristol Township, a community bordering Germantown that is now the Olney-Oak Lane section of North Philadelphia. 

When Joseph Richardson fell in love with Elizabeth Bevan, the entire community rejoiced.  What could be better than the joining of these two prominent families?  Both Joseph and Elizabeth were model Friends, displaying all the best qualities for which Quakers were known. 

 

Joseph was resolute but had not inherited his father's fractious nature.  He also enjoyed teasing those he loved. 

 

"Didst thou ask them?" queried Elizabeth, as she sank down alongside Joseph who sat beneath the sprawling branches of a stately Ash tree.  

 

Calmly smoking his pipe (his one rebellion against the abstinence practiced by most Quakers), he continued gazing toward the river.  Out of breath from her run up the hill, Elizabeth smoothed her hair and tucked a few stray strands behind her ears.  Her hair, the color of autumn hay, contrasted with her green eyes and the lichen-colored dress she had donned so carefully that morning in anticipation of good news.  While not a vain young woman, she nonetheless knew which colors favored her pale skin and hair and had chosen wisely this day.  Quaker attire then was more colorful than now.  Like the Pilgrims and the Puritans, the Quakers disliked unnecessary adornment as they felt it led to prideful attitudes, but they had yet to impose strict wardrobe restrictions, so Quaker garb reflected a person's financial status more than his religious beliefs.  For this Elizabeth was grateful, as she had a weakness for fabrics and colors.

 

"Ask them what?" Joseph responded, somewhat absently.

 

"Oh," Elizabeth responded, abashed, "Naught, nothing," she stammered as she smoothed her skirt and looked away, suddenly uncertain.  Seconds later, regaining her breath, she looked at Joseph through narrowed eyes. 

 

"Well, truly," she said airily, "I did think we had agreed that today thou would ask my parents if we might be married.  Alas, I see I have erred.  I must have mistaken thee for a more determined man."

 

"Oh that," laughed Joseph, "well that I did indeed do.  I am no slouch, my dear, and when I give my word, I stand by it.  Honestly, one would think I were a trifler, making light of promises and forsaking commitments."

 

"And what did they say, pray tell, Mr. No Slouch?" Elizabeth asked, torn between laughter and frustration.

 

"Well, they said they would think on it, of course.  While they could not complain about my character, they did mention that they thought thee a bit too unmanageable and immature."

 

"Oh, they did not!" she cried, "Did they?"  Elizabeth suspected Joseph was teasing, but her confidence suddenly deserted her.

 

Finally, Joseph relented.  Shifting his lean body toward hers, he took her hands in his.  Looking solemnly at Elizabeth, he said, "My beloved, they were most kind and gave us their blessing and offered their love and support.  Thy father has proposed a most thoughtful and creative marital land settlement – one that I think will inure to our benefit and to that of our children."

 

Marital contract, thought Elizabeth, who would concern themselves with that?  Nonetheless, I'm glad the men have settled the business end, so now Joseph and I can move on to more important things.

 

Several months later, Joseph and Elizabeth entered Radnor Meeting as a single man and "spinster" for the last time.  During the intervening months, everything had gone according to Quaker tradition.  After obtaining parental permissions, the couple asked that their intentions be announced at Meeting.  Two male congregants performed background investigations to confirm that neither Joseph nor Elizabeth had prior emotional or contractual commitments to other people and were therefore free to marry.  The young couple discussed thoroughly (and in perhaps too much detail, thought Joseph) the details of the marriage ceremony itself.  They agreed on the form of vows, on whom they would ask to speak on their behalf, and on whether to play music during the meeting.  The decision to not include a hymn or two, represented Elizabeth's only regret.  Like her Welsh forebears, Elizabeth loved music, but music was uncommon at Quaker meetings, where silence and thoughtful reflection were valued above all other forms of worship.  In the end the couple decided that including hymns might discomfort the Friends, a situation they both sought to avoid. 

 

On a sunny June day Elizabeth and Joseph crossed the meeting house threshold.  Their hearts swelled as they exchanged smiles with friends, family, and community members.  As the guests stood silently, they took their seats.  Because Friends believe marriage to be a solemn contract between the engaged couple and God, no individual, such as a minister or judge, performs the rite, although special Friends may be invited to speak during the ceremony.  On this day, the bride's father, John Bevan, spoke long and lovingly of both young people and of his hopes and dreams for their future together.  Adhering to their belief that many and diverse religious texts offered spiritual wisdom, other Friends read from different books, including of course, the Bible.

Finally, Joseph and Elizabeth stood and faced each other.  Clasping hands, they each pronounced the agreed-upon vows, which, by Quaker tradition, were identical in the promises they made to one another.  

 

Smiling softly, Elizabeth intoned, "In the presence of God, I take this my friend Joseph Richardson to be my husband, promising through divine assistance, to be unto him, Joseph, a loving and faithful wife so long as we both on earth shall live." 

 

In his turn, Joseph stated, "In the presence of God, I take this my friend Elizabeth Bevan to be my wife, promising through divine assistance, to be unto her, Elizabeth, a loving and faithful husband so long as we both on earth shall live."

 

After the vows, Joseph and Elizabeth turned toward a small table standing against a nearby wall.  There they signed the specially prepared marriage certificate, which would serve as the permanent record of their commitment.  Two Friends witnessed the certificate. Then the couple took their seats and again fell silent.  Typically, Friends accepted these times of silence as an opportunity to reflect on God's grace and their place among God's people.  At her own wedding, however, Elizabeth found peaceful meditation beyond her capabilities.

 

Dear and Gracious Lord, she thought, thank you for bringing Joseph into my world.  Thank you for making me the person that he would wish to marry.  Make me worthy of him and of the love he offers me.  But soon her thoughts deviated to those of any young bride of any religion in any place and any time.  What will happen tonight when we are alone?  Mother says I will be happy and know true love.  I don't know what she means.  I suppose we will kiss some more – I like that.  Will we kiss all night?  I would think we would tire soon enough and want to sleep.  But that is not what the servants and slaves seem to whisper about.  There is some greater mystery, and I am a little afraid, and excited, and afraid?  Goodness, Elizabeth, consider all the married women here.  Consider Mother!  They all seem content enough. They do not appear miserable or frightened.  Stop, Elizabeth, stop!  You will know soon enough.  Think of God and his love…

 

At the end of the meeting, amid "hey-ho's" and "congratulations" jubilant Friends added their names to the certificate in loving solidarity.  The witnessing of a marriage certificate represented one of the most joyous acts for Quakers; it was their opportunity to provide tangible support to the married couple.  It was almost as if after the meeting's quiet restraint, the witnesses clamored for an opportunity to express the exuberance that was not part of their religious experience.  When the meeting ended, more than 75 people had signed the certificate. 

 

Elizabeth overcame her trepidation about bedroom matters, and she and Joseph began their family, which ultimately included 11 children.  Young Samuel, named after his grandfather Samuel, made his appearance in April 1697, and 10 more little Richardsons followed.  Joseph inherited his father's 500-acre plantation near Germantown and later purchased a 1,000-acre estate called "Olethgo" in Providence Township, where they raised their children.  Joseph lived until 1752 reaching the age of 85 before passing.  His detailed and lengthy will exposed a blemish on American Quaker history -  they were a slaveholding community.[4]  Among other real and personal property legacies, Joseph bequeathed to his children "my negro man called Jujiah", "a Negro boy called Edinborrough", "a Mallota Boy called Solomon and my negro girl called Phyllis", "a negro girl called Betty", and "a negro girl named Parthenia during [my daughters] natural life and thence…to her daughter, Hannah, [and if Hannah has no surviving heir] to my son Edward's eldest daughter".  He also bequeathed to "my old negro woman Phillis her Freedom".

 

PART FOURTEEN 

The Century Closes

 

Our tale ends with two final stories.  The first, extremely personal in nature, recounts a family's struggles with brilliance and insanity and provides the link to 18th century North America, a century of religious awakenings, economic and social advancement, and revolution.  The second story demonstrates once again that we humans fail with disturbing frequency to display our better selves and fall too easily into lapses of character, intelligence, and common sense. 

 

Forty-five

Bad Behavior: The Shocking Decline of the Tuttles of New Haven

 

 

Richard Edwards paced the dirt floor of his new warehouse on the riverbank.  The warehouse bore testimony to Richard's profitable mercantile activities.  These, combined with his work as an attorney, had enabled him to increase his family's holdings and stature in the community.  Working hard to attain this level of economic and social stability, he allowed little to disrupt his trajectory.  However, he currently faced two problems.  The first concerned Elizabeth Tuttle, his eccentric wife.  Married for over 22 years, the couple had experienced ups and downs, but matters escalated when Richard fell in love with another woman and wished to free himself of his wife and her peculiarities.  The second problem concerned his son Timothy, recently suspended from Harvard College.[5]  The grandson of a Minister whose early death had caused the family fortunes and status to decline precipitously, Richard sacrificed much (in his view) to ensure Timothy's matriculation at Harvard, and now Timothy's academic career was at risk due to youthful indiscretions.

 

Ambitious and uncompromising, Richard could also be ruthless.  He wasn't unscrupulous exactly, but he could delve into the nuances of a problem, enabling him to perceive potential (and perhaps unsavory) solutions where others could not.  In this case, he thought, the timing of the two problems could possibly inure to his benefit.  Perhaps Timothy's precarious situation might help Richard resolve the matter with Elizabeth.  As he formulated a plan, Richard realized he must keep his temper and exercise all his persuasive skill.  Leaving the warehouse, he hurried home in search of Timothy.  In a stroke of fortune, he ran into his son on the way.

 

"Son, we have not had a chance to speak since your arrival last night," he began.  "Can you tell me what happened at school?  Why have you been sent home with so little explanation?"

 

Timothy, equally intelligent and keen-minded, observed his father curiously.  Richard's stern demeanor and rigid adherence to societal standards were legendary.  Timothy had breached those standards and incurred the wrath of his professors.  He expected his father's rage and recriminations, not calm, reasonable questioning.  Suddenly he thought, Father must want something.

 

Timothy explained the circumstances surrounding his suspension, and Richard made the expected queries, although he appeared disinterested in Timothy's responses except to suggest steps to resolve the situation.  Eventually, he broached the other problem.

 

"Timothy, you know that your mother has been a sore trial to me these many years," he ventured.

 

Timothy stiffened.  His mother's problems were well-known, but the family refrained from speaking about them.  As the eldest child, Timothy felt protective toward his mother and loved her dearly.  Nonetheless, he knew that the Edwards' marriage was not normal; his mother's nature saw to that.  For years his father had been less and less at home, and when he was home periods of tears and rage pierced stretches of uneasy silence.  Timothy did not want to hear his father's argument, but he realized this was the price of Richard's conciliatory posture about Harvard.  Please, he thought, let it not be too bad.

 

It was, in fact, pretty bad - worse even than he had feared.  His father wanted a divorce, not unheard-of in 17th century New England, but not common either.  Worse, his father wanted Timothy to write an affidavit attesting to his mother's many years of peculiar behavior, and in particular her neglect of and aggression toward Richard.  Only half listening, Timothy asked himself what God would advise.  He needed time.  Finally, he said, "I will think on it, Father."

 

In the end, Timothy wrote an affidavit supporting his father's petition for divorce and attesting to his mother's "distraction" and "absence from his father's bed and society".  He tried to shield his mother as much as possible, but the affidavit was damning.  His younger sister, Abigail, also presented an affidavit. 

 

The Court denied the petition, but Richard resolved to try again.  Next time, he thought, he would remind the Court of the Tuttle family's troubled history and throw himself at their mercy.

 

Elizabeth (Tuttle) Edwards' parents, William and Elizabeth Tuttle, were among the founders of New Haven Colony, and they raised their 12 children there.  While the Tuttles achieved financial success and prominence, they also endured tragedy and scandal.  All of their sons were implicated in, accused of, or convicted of a variety of youthful indiscretions.  One son slowly descended into madness and remained sequestered at home.  Another appeared in court repeatedly for loose living, violence, and contempt for authority.  Another son murdered his sister.  One of their daughters murdered her son.  

 

Their daughter Sarah had a bit of a wild streak and an unruly temper.  At age 17, she was fined for "sinful dalliance" with Jacob Melyn, the son of Cornelis, the Dutchman.  Caught kissing, the two were hauled before the Court.  After hearing testimony from lay witnesses present at the scene and character witnesses who gleefully shared negative opinions about the defendants, the Court adjudged Sarah to be a "bold virgin" of corrupt speech and lascivious manner.  She and Jacob were each fined 20 shillings.  

 

Three years later, Sarah married John Slawson of Stamford, and some years after that, her younger brother Benjamin Tuttle came to live with them and their four children.  One cold November night in 1676, Sarah, Benjamin, and Sarah's children huddled around the warmth of the fireplace.  John was away on watch.  Sarah and Benjamin had been squabbling all day, and the atmosphere was tense.  As night fell, tempers flared.  Suddenly, Benjamin, simmering with repressed anger and resentment, flew into a rage.  Rushing outside, he grabbed an ax.  Returning to the house, he charged at Sarah, standing before the hearth.  Striking her in the head multiple times, Benjamin bellowed "I will teach you to scold!  I will take you to God!"  Sarah fell to the ground, and Benjamin continued to strike her as she lay still and bloody at his feet. 

 

His fury spent, Benjamin turned and rushed past the children, who clung to one another in fear.  Outside, he attempted to raise the alarm announcing an Indian attack, but he was arrested anyway.  Benjamin's conduct, the physical evidence, and the children's testimony resulted in a guilty verdict, and he was executed. 

 

In the ensuing years, the Tuttles' legal problems multiplied, and they appeared in court several times.  When the family matriarch died in 1684 and left the youngest son, Nathaniel, an unusually large inheritance, a dispute over her will erupted.  The five older brothers claimed that Nathaniel had exercised undue influence on their aged mother.  Nathaniel claimed the legacy reflected gratitude for his work on their mother's property.  The Court ordered the brothers to try and reach an agreement, and when they could not, it disregarded the will as written and redistributed the estate, provoking even more ill will. 

 

The youngest daughter, Mercy, could not escape the family curse either.  Her public troubles began at age 14 when she was accused of stealing liquor and drinking it with friends.  She escaped punishment for that alleged transgression when a friend testified that Mercy was not among the revelers.  Later, she developed a reputation for being "distracted," a common Puritan euphemism for "crazy."  Still, the community ignored her bizarre behavior even when she began talking nonsense and threatened to throw scalding water at her son-in-law.  Predictably, Mercy's escalating behavior resulted in tragedy.  One day, rising early to attend to chores, she seized an ax from a storage room and entered her teenage son's bedroom, where she struck him repeatedly as he lay sleeping, eventually killing him.

 

The jury in the case heard complicated testimony that today would require the help of various experts to understand.  Mercy testified that she felt no malice toward her son, nor was there evidence of any.  Her husband testified that she feared for her son's future and viewed death as an escape from the harms that awaited him.  Many witnesses testified about her bizarre behavior over the years.  Unable to determine a motive, the jury found her guilty, but the Court, struggling with questions about her mental state, refused to issue a verdict for 18 months, during which time she remained in jail.  Finally, the court decided Mercy was not responsible for her actions due to mental incapacity.  She was spared the death penalty but was incarcerated for life.

 

Elizabeth (Tuttle) Edwards had been born and raised in this family, and her behavior often mirrored that of her siblings.  Over several years, Richard Edwards presented complaints before the Court of Assistants attempting to prove that Elizabeth's behavior satisfied the Court's required grounds for divorce. First, he alleged adultery, claiming that her daughter Mary, born seven months after the marriage, was not his child.  Richard had always claimed this, although the circumstances were ambiguous.  He admitted to having sexual relations with Elizabeth twice before their wedding.  His father, William, even sued another man for "trespass against" Elizabeth's body, demanding 50 pounds in damages.  Called as a witness on three separate occasions, Elizabeth failed to appear every time.  Lacking a witness, William Edwards withdrew his suit, and the Court dismissed the charges, concluding that Richard was the "reputed" father.  Nonetheless, Richard never acknowledged Mary, and he insisted Elizabeth's parents raise the child. 

 

In his second attempt to prove adultery, Richard claimed Elizabeth compared him disparagingly with other men and said that when he challenged her on this point, she named another lover.  Problematically, Richard refused to identify the supposed lover "out of discretion."  With no way to corroborate Richard's claim, the Court denied this petition as well. 

 

Changing tactics, Richard tried to prove desertion, also grounds for divorce.  He claimed Elizabeth refused to sleep with him for about nine years and that this was tantamount to desertion.  As proof, Richard explained that during their first 10 years marriage, Elizabeth gave birth every two to three years, a typical rate of childbirth for the times, but that she bore only one child during the ensuing 10 years.  Upon hearing this argument, the 17th-century male jurors reached the only conclusion conceivable to them, If she does not conceive, she must be withholding sex.

 

The Puritan Magistrates refused to require a man, even one subject to significant moral lapses, to suffer marital misery with a woman who refused to have sex with him.  At this point, Richard's petition was granted; he married his lover and had another six children with her.  Elizabeth's fate remains unknown; she disappeared from the records after their 1691 divorce. 

 

Timothy graduated from Harvard that same year.  He married Esther Stoddard in 1694, and they settled in Hartford, Connecticut Colony, where they raised 10 daughters and one son.  That son, Jonathan Edwards, the "Founding Father of American Evangelism", would have a profound effect on 18th century America.

 

Forty-six

Witch Hysteria

 

After 60 years of increasing social unrest and religious intolerance, Massachusetts came to resemble the backwater parishes of England that the Puritans had sought to escape.  While Boston attracted fairly educated, tolerant people, ouside of Boston, people were noticeably more ignorant and suspicious, both of their own neighbors and of strangers.  Salem Village, well to the north of Boston, less sophisticated and considerably less prosperous, epitomized this trend, and became increasingly vulnerable to ignorance-fueled superstitions and prejudices.

 

The Salem area had never been particularly welcoming to strangers and had been slipping into a cold state of intolerance for some time.  The locals disliked strangers of any type, and they especially scorned Baptists and Quakers.  In 1659, a prominent citizen of Topsfield, Zeccheus Gould, was convicted of providing hospitality to Quakers.  He was, in fact, guilty, since his nephew Daniel had converted to Quakerism, and when that young man came to visit, his uncle quite naturally received him in his home.  Daniel received 30 strokes of the whip and was banished from Massachusetts.  Zeccheus, a man of standing, was fined. 

 

Zeccheus' brother-in-law and sister, John and Priscilla (Gould) Putnam, also lived in the area. Their eldest son, Thomas, threw himself into Puritan life, joining the Church soon after arriving in the colonies, and proceeded to fulfill many important roles in the Church, the town, and the military.  In 1643, Thomas married Anne Holyoke, the daughter of Edward and Prudence Holyoke, another prominent couple in the area.  

 

Despite Thomas' enormous contributions to Salem Village, as a member of the Court, a Grand Juryman, the Parish Clerk, Lieutenant of the Town's Troop of Horse, and even after having built a house that still stands today in the part of Salem Village now known as Danvers, Thomas' other legacy far outstripped the first.  Thomas Putnam fathered Thomas Putnam, Jr, who in turn fathered Ann Putnam.  Thomas Jr. and Ann would become the two most notorious Salem witch accusers.[6]

 

Personal rivalries may have been the root cause of many of the accusations.  Thomas Putnam Jr. felt his father had favored Thomas' brother Edward and half-brother Joseph in his will.  Thomas Jr.'s father-in-law likewise snubbed Thomas and his wife in his will.  Since neither his father nor his stepfather thought Thomas Jr. worthy to receive a significant inheritance, one has to ask what kind of a person he was.  That he accused 43 people of witchcraft, most of whom had some relation to his half-brother Joseph, comes as no surprise.  His wife accused a fair number of people also, and his daughter, young Ann Putnam, accused no fewer than 62 people of being witches.  Did Thomas and his family use the hysteria to further their own malicious revenge?   The sheer quantity of accusations they made would seem to indicate that they did.

 

The Salem witch hysteria began in the spring of 1692 when several adolescent girls accused a few local women of witchcraft.  It quickly escalated, ultimately affecting every family in Salem Village and the surrounding towns of Salem (separate from the village), Beverly, Ipswich, Topsfield, and Lynn.  In two years, over 200 people were accused of witchcraft in Salem and its surrounding towns; 20 people were hanged; one person was pressed to death; and 13 people died in prison. 

 

What surprises contemporary observers is that the community at large did not challenge the hysteria that swept the towns and their inhabitants.  Particularly when considering that most of the main accusers were children.  Of course, the malicious participation of the Putnam adults surely exacerbated the matter.  Sadly, much of the local reaction can be attributed to inertia and fear of reprisal amongst the citizens, and ignorance and misguided religious zealotry amongst the clergy. 

 

Susannah Martyn, George Martyn's widow, epitomized the type of women accused of witchcraft in early days.  Outspoken, argumentative, and arrogant, Susannah offended many people over the years.  She complained that her meetinghouse seat was beneath her status.  When her father died and left most of his estate to her stepmother, she challenged the will, and when the Court affirmed it, she appealed five(!) times.  She quarreled with neighbors incessantly.  In 1669 a neighbor accused her of witchcraft, calling her sons bastards and imps.  Her husband sued the man for slander but did not prevail.  Tellingly, the Court upheld the witchcraft accusation, although a higher court dismissed the charge. 

 

George Martyn, whose elevated position in the community had shielded Susannah from further condemnation, died in 1686, and when the witch hysteria took root, she had no protector.  Having irritated most of her neighbors and acquaintances, she fell quickly to public judgment.   Subjected to a humiliating arrest, physical examinations for abnormalities said to be common in witches, and a public trial, she was convicted and hanged on Gallows Hill at the age of 70. 

 

Susannah's stepdaughter, Hannah (Martyn) Worthen, and her husband, Ezekiel, were so angered that they left the Puritan Church and became Quakers.

 

Seventy-seven-year-old Thomas Farrar, who Ann Putnam accused of pinching her in dreams, fared better than other accused witches, perhaps because he was a man.  Thomas suffered only a 6-month imprisonment.  Nonetheless, the hellish conditions of Puritan prisons, with unheated cells that lacked furniture or other comforts constituted serious punishment indeed.  Adding insult to injury, Thomas had to pay for "room and board" at the prison. 

 

John Herrick of Beverly had mixed emotions about the witch controversy that consumed Salem, and like many 17-year-olds, he tended to keep his thoughts to himself.  As accusations first emerged, he felt conflicted.  Salem Village was a somber farming community at heart, poorer and more conservative than the port city of Salem, and the witch accusations brought a peculiar excitement as Village residents preened in their new-found prominence.  Salem sent two Magistrates to investigate, and the Governor appointed Special Courts to hear and decide cases.  The Magistrates rushed about looking concerned; the clergy called on experts for guidance, and Church sermons became increasingly emotional and frenzied.  After the initial titillating and targeted revelations, however, the accusations became more unbelievable and widespread, touching almost every family in the area. 

 

The first accusation occurred in Salem Village where the Minister's daughter accused her father's Barbadian servant, Tituba, of witchcraft.  This seemed plausible, after all the accused came from an island known to support and traffic in witchcraft.  Later, however, as the accusations touched many respected and well-liked Salem area residents, John began to doubt their veracity.

 

Having lost his father at a young age, John spent many hours with his uncles Henry and Joseph Herrick.  Both were involved with the trials, Henry as a Juror and Joseph in his role as town Constable.  Around their dinner tables, the tone of the conversations began to change.  Henry was the first to question the direction of the trials, and as his concerns grew, he spent more and more time trying to convince his brother that the residents needed to take a stand against the increasing hysteria.  Then Joseph began to share tales of the poor wretches that he had arrested and of their sorry plight in the jail.  Both men grew increasingly uncomfortable with the state of affairs, and their thoughts turned to their brother, Thomas.

 

"This witch hunt brings Thomas to mind," Henry said quietly one night.

 

Joseph paled, and glancing at John replied, "Not in front of the boy, Henry."

 

"Why not?' queried Henry.  "Injustice was there done, and in the name of God we failed our brother out of fear and ignorance.  The lad should not grow up with the same chains that shackled us."

 

"I'll not be the one to tell him." replied Joseph, but his resigned tone told Henry that he wouldn't interfere if Henry chose to do so.

 

Intrigued, John settled into his seat, expecting to finally hear about the great family mystery.  Thomas' name was frequently invoked in the Herrick households, but never in a good way.  When his name arose, it was used by the men in the family to threaten some errant child with retribution should he or she continue their misdeeds.  The women averted their eyes and pursed their lips when Thomas was mentioned.  The younger generation often speculated about their uncle Thomas, wondering what he had done to earn the entire family's censure. 

 

Henry recounted the story of Thomas Herrick, whose father withheld his inheritance until Thomas married, and whose subsequent marriage proved disastrous, and explained how a mixture of fear, ignorance, and prejudice led people to act cruelly toward others.  When Henry finished, John looked confused and said, "I am sorry for appearing dull-witted, but I do not understand what Uncle Thomas' divorce has to do with the witch trials."

 

Joseph intervened, "What my brother is trying to remind me, John, is that we misjudged our brother, and in our ignorance, we lost a brother and a friend.  Henry uses this tale as a metaphor to suggest that we judge not harshly the accused witches but rather ask ourselves to be more generous and loving neighbors.  You see, John, Thomas was different.  He did not like women in the way men usually do.  He tried, but his nature caused him to turn away from the acts that normally give pleasure to men and women and bring children into the world.  This was what our father, your grandfather, saw and tried to change.  We who witnessed the aftermath learned that Thomas could not change, and Father's desire to change him made him miserable, made his wife suffer, and brought public censure to all involved.  Now we see a similar thing happening with the accused witches, many of whom are elderly people, confused and helpless, or people whose differences make them seem suspect in some way.  We should ask ourselves whether the righteous path is to feel compassion for the weakness of others rather than to judge them prematurely, allowing ignorance and fear to guide our actions."

 

Prodded by Henry, Joseph added, "Perhaps in fact, we should even speak up in defense of these poor souls.  In that way, we may aid in bringing an end to this madness, ere more suffer."

 

John had just learned more about life than he expected to when he sat down at Uncle Henry's table that day.  Everything felt topsy-turvy, and he didn't know what to say.  He loved and respected his uncles, however, and if they thought there was something to be learned from Thomas' story then John would try to learn it.  Still, there was a lot to think on.  After all, John hadn't even kissed a girl yet.  Blushing, he decided that he had better try it before getting married in case he, like his Uncle Thomas, didn't like it either!

 

"Then what should we do?" he asked.

 

"You, young man, will do nothing," replied Joseph.  "It is up to us, the grown men and women of the town, to confront and defeat this hysteria that has continued for too long unchallenged.  Your best path is to think about what we have talked about here and how it might apply to the current times.  If you speak to your friends, plead caution.  Remind them that rigid thinking and careless tongues lead to hasty and error-filled behavior, and this is not the righteous path.  We should know better than to imitate the cruel ways of the Papist Inquisition, yet that is exactly what we are doing in Salem."

 

Through the efforts of people like the Herricks, the Colony soon acted to curb the excesses of the witch hysteria.  The special Courts were dissolved and replaced with a single Court of Justice, which was ordered to prohibit the presentation of spectral evidence whereby the twitching, moaning, and howling of the accusers was considered evidence of bewitchment by the accused; and eventually the Governor pardoned all those languishing in jails awaiting punishment.  Some accusers began to acknowledge their own guilt in the matter, including Ann Putnam, Jr.  Henry Herrick worked to persuade his fellow citizens of the wrongs they had committed, beginning with Thomas Fiske, the Jury Foreman in the trial of 71-year-old Rebecca Nurse.  Rebecca, a devout Puritan with an unblemished reputation, was accused by some children of being a witch.  The jury, having heard the testimony, acquitted her.  As the verdict was read, several girls began screaming, and the crowd began to hiss.  The Judge asked the Jury to reconsider the verdict.  They did so and returned a guilty verdict.  Rebecca was soon hanged.  After the execution, the jury in the trial, persuaded by Juror Henry Herrick and Foreman Thomas Fiske submitted an extraordinary document to the Court disavowing the result:

 

"We whose names are underwritten, being in the year 1692 called to serve as
jurors in court at Salem, on trial of many who were by some suspected guilty of
doing acts of witchcraft upon the bodies of sundry persons, we confess that we
ourselves were not capable to understand, nor able to withstand, the
mysterious delusions of the powers of darkness and Prince of the air, but were, for
want of knowledge in ourselves and better information from others, prevailed
with to take with such evidence against the accused, as, on further consideration
and better information, we justly fear was insufficient for the touching the
lives of any (Deut. xvii) whereby we fear we have been instrumental, with
others, though ignorantly and unwittingly, to bring upon ourselves and this people
of the Lord the guilt of innocent blood; which sin the Lord saith in
Scripture he would not pardon (2 Kings xxiv.4) - that is, we suppose, in regard to his
temporal judgments.
We do therefore hereby signify to all in general, and to the surviving
sufferers in special, our deep sense of, and sorrow for, our errors in acting on
such evidence to the condemning of any person; and do hereby declare, that we
justly fear that we were sadly deluded and mistaken - for which we are much
disquieted and distressed in our minds, and do therefore humbly beg forgiveness,
first of God, for Christ's sake, for this our error, and pray that God would
impute the guilt of it to ourselves nor others, and we also pray that we may be
considered candidly and aright by the living sufferers, as being then under a
strong and general delusion, utterly unacquainted with, and not experienced in,
matters of that nature.
We do hereby ask forgiveness of you all, whom we have justly offended, and do
declare, according to our present minds, we would none of us do such things
again, on such grounds, for the whole world - praying you to accept of this in
way of satisfaction for our offense, and that you would bless the inheritance
of the Lord, that he may be entreated for the land."

[Signed:]
Thomas Fisk - Foreman, William Fisk,
John Bacheler, Thomas Fisk, John Dane,
Joseph Evelith, Thomas Pearly, Sr., John Peabody,
Thomas Perkins, Samuel Sayer,
Andrew Eliot, Henry Herrick, Sr.

 

Forty-seven

The Seventeenth Century Closes

 

The Salem Witch Trials mark a sad ending to the promise inherent in the bold and fearless ventures of the Pilgrims, Puritans, and Heretics who came to these shores in search of a better life.  They had accomplished much, but they had also allowed the worst in their nature to manifest itself and wreak havoc time and again.  Such contradictions color much of the course of human history, and the people who immigrated to North America in the 17th century were no different from other people at other times.  Their descendants would do the same in the centuries to come.  They would succeed with breathtaking aplomb; they would fail with disappointing consistency, but most of all they would persevere, and a new nation would be born.

 

 

 

[1] In fact, part of the original house still stands on North Street in Medfield and is now known as the Dwight-Derby House.
[2] John and Barbara did return to Wales for good in 1704, and in subsequent writings he mentioned that Barbara's goals had been fulfilled – their children had grown up in a place where they were free from corrupting" influences and where they could practice their religion freely.
[3] In later years, this farm became part of the Henry Morris Estate. 
[4] Some Quakers at Germantown  protested against slavery in 1688, but these protests did not persuade the Richardsons to emancipate their slaves.
[5] Harvard records merely state that he was "punished".  He was listed as a graduate in 1691 but did not attend graduation and was not charged for the customary graduation dinner.  In 1694 he attended commencement and earned a B.A. and an M.A.
[6] Thomas Jr. and his daughter, Ann, are not direct ancestors.  Thomas is a 7th great-uncle.

 

 

 

 

 

 

List of Ancestors

(These are in approximate order of appearance.  Bolded names are immigrants.  Only direct ancestors are listed, not their siblings.  If two children are listed, both are direct ancestors.)

 

Ancestors aboard the Mayflower 1620

 

Mr. William Brewster, Gentleman, Printer, Elder, ~1566 – 1644, origin Scrooby, Nottinghamshire (probably).

Mary (Unknown) Brewster, Wife, Unknown – 1627, origin unknown.

Love Brewster, Son, ~1607 – between October 1650 and March 1651, born Leiden, Holland (probably), marries Sarah Collier, daughter of Merchant Adventurer William Collier.

 

James Chilton, Tailor, ~1556 – 1620, origin Canterbury, Kent.

Mrs. Chilton, Wife, unknown – 1621, origin unknown.

Mary Chilton, Daughter, ~1607 – between 1676 and 1679, origin Sandwich, Kent, marries John Winslow.

 

Francis Cooke, Wool-comber, ~1583 – 1663, origin England (probably).

 

Mr. Richard Warren, Gentleman, ~1578 – 1628, origin London, England (probably).

 

Ancestors aboard the Fortune 1621

 

Mr. Robert Hicks, Fellmonger, ~1578 – 1647, origin possibly near Bermondsey, Surrey, married Margaret (Unknown).  Son Samuel Hicks marries Lydia Doane, daughter of John and Ann (Unknown) Doane.

 

Mr. John Winslow, Merchant, 1597 – 1674, origin Droitwich, Worcestershire, marries Mary Chilton of the Mayflower. Daughter Mary Winslow marries Edward Gray.

 

Ancestors aboard the Anne and the Little James 1623

 

Robert Bartlett, Wine Cooper (barrel-maker), ~1602 – 1676, origin unknown, marries Mary Warren. Son Joseph Bartlett marries Hannah Pope, daughter of Thomas and Anne (Fallowell) Pope, granddaughter of Gabriel and Katherine (Finney) Fallowell, and great-granddaughter of "Mother" Finney.

 

Hester (Mahieu) Cooke, Wife of Francis Cooke of the Mayflower, ~1584-1666, origin probably Canterbury.

Jane Cooke, Daughter, ~1604 – unknown, origin Leiden, Holland (probably), marries Experience Mitchell.

 

John Faunce, ~1608 – 1653, origin unknown, marries Patience Morton, daughter of George Morton (see below). Daughter, Patience, marries John Holmes, son of John and Sarah (Unknown) Holmes.

 

Margaret (Unknown) Hicks, Wife of Robert Hicks of the Fortune, ~1579 – between July 1665 and March 1666.

Samuel Hicks, Son, 1611-after 1666, baptized Bermondsey, County Surrey, marries Lydia Doane, daughter of John and Ann (Unknown) Doane.

 

Mr. John Jenney, Brewer, Miller, ~1589 – 1644, origin Norwich, County Norfolk (probably).

Sarah (Cary) Jenney, Wife, unknown – between August 1655 and March 1656, origin Monk's Soham, County Suffolk.

Samuel Jenney, Son, ~1616 – unknown, origin Leiden, Holland, marries Susannah Wood, daughter of John and Margaret (Carter) Wood.

 

Experience Mitchell, ~1603 – between December 1684 and May 1689, origin unknown, marries Jane Cooke (see above). Daughter, Elizabeth, marries John Washburn, son of John and Margery (Moore) Washburn.

 

Mr. George Morton, Merchant, ~ 1587 – 1624, of Harworth, County Notts.        

Juliana (Carpenter) Morton, Wife, ~1583 – 1664, origin Wrington, Somersetshire (probably).

Patience Morton, Daughter, ~1615 – 1691, origin Leiden, Holland, marries John Faunce.

Sarah Morton, Daughter, ~1620 – unknown, origin Leiden, Holland, marries George Bonham.

 

Joshua Pratt, Farmer, Messenger, Constable, ~1605 – between June 1652 and October 1656, origin unknown, marries Bathsheba (Unknown).  Daughter, Bathsheba, marries Joshua Royce, son of Robert and Elizabeth (Unknown) Royce.

 

Stephen Tracy, Sayworker (weaver), 1596 – after March 1655, origin Great Yarmouth, Norfolk (probably), married Tryphosa Lee who immigrates on the Jacob of 1625, ~1597 – unknown, origin unknown.  Daughter, Sarah, ~1623 – unknown, also arrives on the Jacob of 1625, age ~2, origin Leiden, Holland, marries George Partridge.

 

Elizabeth (Walker) Warren, Wife of Richard Warren (Mayflower), ~1583 (probably) – 1673, origin Great Amwell or Baldock, Co. Hertfordshire (probably).

Mary Warren, Daughter, ~1610 – unknown, born England, marries Robert Bartlett (see above).

Abigail Warren, Daughter, ~1619 – unknown, born England (probably), marries Anthony Snow.

1629-1630 Plymouth Ancestor Arrivals

 

Thomas Willett, Merchant, ~1608-1674, origin Leiden, Holland (probably) although his family was possibly from Norwich, England, Mayflower of 1629 (probably), marries Mary Browne, daughter of John and Dorothy (Unknown) Browne. Thomas and Mary's daughter, Mary Willett, marries Reverend Samuel Hooker, son of Reverend Thomas and Susannah (Garbrand) Hooker.

 

Roger Chandler, Sayworker, ~1590-between 1646 and 1665, origin Colchester, Essex (possibly).

Isabella (Chilton) Chandler, Wife, ~1587-unknown, bp. Canterbury, England, sister of Mary Chilton and daughter of James and Mrs. Chilton of the Mayflower.

Sarah Chandler, Daughter, before 1622-unknown, origin Leiden, Holland, marries Solomon Leonard.

 

Massachusetts Bay Colony Ancestors 1629

 

Aboard the Lyon's Whelp:

 

William Sprague, Yeoman, ~1611-1675, origin Upway, Dorsetshire, marries Millicent Eames, daughter of Anthony and Margery (possibly Pierce) Eames.  William and Millicent's son, Samuel Sprague, marries Sarah Chillingworth, daughter of Thomas and Joane (possibly Hampton) Chillingworth.

 

Aboard the Talbot:

 

Mr. Thomas Graves, Ship's Mate, ~1605-1653, born Ratcliffe, County Middlesex, permanently emigrates to New England in 1639 with his family, married Katherine Gray, daughter of Katherine (Miles) Gray. 

 

Ancestors aboard the Mary and John 1630

 

John Hoskins, ~1588-1648, origin unknown.

Ann (Unknown) Hoskins, Wife, ~1596-1662, origin unknown.

Katherine (possibly Hoskins), Daughter, ~1615-unknown, origin unknown, marries David Wilton.

 

William Rockwell, Deacon, 1591-1640, baptized Fitzhead, Somersetshire.

Susanna (Capen) Rockwell, Wife, 1602-unknown, origin Dorchester, Dorsetshire, daughter of Bernard and Joan (Purchase) Capen who come to New England in 1633.  William and Susanna's daughter, Ruth, marries Christopher Huntington, son of Simon and Margaret (Barrett) Huntington.

 

Reverend John Warham, Minister, 1595-1670, baptized Crewkerne, Somersetshire, marries as his second wife, Jane (Unknown) Newberry, widow of Thomas Newberry.  Daughter, Esther (Warham) Mather, marries second Reverend Solomon Stoddard, son of Anthony and Mary (Downing) Stoddard.

 

Winthrop Fleet Ancestors of 1630

 

Robert Abell, Innkeeper, ~1605-1663, origin Stapenhill, Derbyshire (probably), marries Joanna (Unknown).  Son, Caleb, marries Margaret Post, daughter of John and Hester (Hyde) Post.

 

William Barsham, Carpenter and Glazier (possibly), ~1610-1684, origin unknown, marries Anabel Smith alias Bland.[1] 

 

Thomas Bartlett, Servant to William Pelham, Subsistence Farmer, ~1605/10-1654, origin unknown, marries Hannah (Unknown). Daughter, Mehitable, marries Henry Spring.

 

William Chase, Housewright, 1605-1659, origin unknown.

Mary (Unknown) Chase, Wife, age unknown, origin unknown.

William Chase, Son, ~1620-unknown, he was "a child of ill qualities, and a sore affliction to his parents", marries Unknown (Unknown) and has son, William, who marries Hannah Sherman.

 

Thomas Howlett, Surveyor, ~1606-1678, origin unknown, marries Alice French.[1]  Son Thomas Jr. marries Lydia Peabody.

 

Thomas Lamb, Yeoman and Slater (possibly), ~1599-1646, possibly from Bernardiston, Suffolk, marries second Dorothy Harbottle, in 1640. Son, Abiel Lamb, born posthumously in 1646, marries Elizabeth Clark, daughter of Hugh and Elizabeth (Unknown) Clark.  After Thomas' death, Dorothy marries Thomas Hawley, and their son, Joseph Hawley, marries Lydia Marshall, daughter of Samuel and Mary (Wilton) Marshall and granddaughter of David and Katherine (Hoskins) Wilton.

 

Isaac Stearns, Tailor, ~1600- 1671, origin Nayland with Wissington.

Mary (Barker) Stearns, Wife, unknown – 1677, origin Stoke Nayland.

John Stearns, Son, ~1630-unknown, marries Sarah Mixer, daughter of Isaac and Sarah (Thurston) Mixer.

 

John Warren, 1585-1667, origin Nayland, Suffolk.

Margaret (Unknown) Warren, Wife, origin unknown.

Mary Warren, Daughter, 1624-1691, Nayland, Suffolk, marries John Bigelow.  Son Samuel marries Mary Flagg, daughter of Thomas and Mary (Unknown) Flagg.  Daughter, Elizabeth marries John Stearns, son of John and Sarah (Mixer) Stearns, and grandson of Isaac and Mary (Barker) Stearns.

 

Richard Wright, Steward (manager of large farms owned by others), ~1596-after 1668, origin unknown.

Margaret (Unknown) Wright, Wife, unknown – 1643, origin unknown.

Abigail Wright, Daughter, 1623-1707, marries Robert Sharpe.

 

Ancestors aboard the Lyon 1631

 

Reverend Roger Williams, Minister, ~1606-1683, origin London, England.

Mary (Barnard) Williams, Wife, unknown-after August 1676, origin Worksop, County Notts.  Daughter Mary marries John Sayles.

 

Ancestors aboard the Griffin 1633

 

Reverend Thomas Hooker, Minister, ~1586 – 1647, born Marefield, Tilton, Leicestershire.

Susanna (Garbrand) Hooker, Wife, birthplace unknown.

Samuel Hooker, Son, ~1633 – 1697, birthplace unknown, possibly in England as the family fled the pursuivants, or aboard the Griffin, or soon after landing at Massachusetts.  Samuel marries Mary Willett, daughter of Thomas Willett. Their daughter, Mary Hooker, marries Reverend James Pierpont.

 

Passengers aboard the Angel Gabriel 1635

 

John Cogswell, Merchant, 1592 -1669, born Westbury, Leigh, Wiltshire.

Elizabeth (Thompson) Cogswell, Wife, unknown – 1676, born probably Westbury, Leigh, Wiltshire where her father was the Minister.

William Cogswell, Son, 1620 – 1700, Westbury Leigh, Wiltshire, marries Susannah Hawkes, daughter of Adam Hawkes.

 

Windsor, Wethersfield, and Hartford Ancestors

 

George Chappell, Carpenter, ~1615- ~1682, origin unknown, Christian of 1635, marries Christian (Unknown).  Daughter, Rachel, marries Thomas Crocker of New London.

 

William Hyde, ~1606-1681, origin unknown.

Hester Hyde, Daughter, Unknown – 1703, possibly immigrated with her father, marries John Post of Saybrook.  He was the son of Stephen and Elinor (Panton) Post.

Samuel Hyde, Son, ~1637-1677, origin unknown, possibly immigrated with his father, marries Jane Lee of Saybrook.  She was the daughter of Thomas and Phoebe (Brown) Lee.

 

Mr. William Swaine, Magistrate, ~1685 – after 1657, origin unknown, but possibly Higham by Nayland, Suffolk, Elizabeth & Anne of 1635.

Samuel Swaine, Son, ~1624-~1682, origin unknown, but possibly Higham by Nayland, Suffolk, Elizabeth & Anne of 1635, marries Joanna (Unknown) Ward. 

 

Mr. John Steele, Recorder, 1591-1665, bp. Fairstead, Essex.

Rachel (Talcott) Steele, Wife, unknown -1653, "of Braintree".  Daughter, Mary, marries William Judd, son of Thomas and Elizabeth (Unknown) Judd.

 

Immigrant settlers of Dedham, Massachusetts Bay Colony

 

The adult men are signers of the Dedham Covenant:

 

John Dwight, Yeoman, ~1601-1661, immigrates 1635, baptized Woolverstone, Suffolk.

Hannah (Unknown, possibly Close) Dwight, Wife, unknown-1656, origin unknown.

Timothy Dwight, Son, ~1631-1718, marries Anna Flint.

 

Thomas Bartlett, Subsistence Farmer, 1605/10-1654, origin unknown, Winthrop Fleet of 1630, marries Hannah (Unknown).  Daughter, Mehitable, marries Henry Spring, son of John and Elinor (Unknown) Spring, Elizabeth of 1634. 

 

Jonathan Fairbanks, ~1594-1668, immigrates by 1637, origin Halifax Parish, West Riding, Yorkshire.

Grace (Smith) Fairbanks, Wife, ~1600 – 1673, Warley Township, Halifax Parish, Yorkshire.

Jonas Fairbanks,Son, 1625-1675, marries Lydia Prescott, daughter of John and Mary (Gawkroger) Platts Prescott.  Jonas' daughter, Grace, marries Ephraim Bullen, son of Samuel and Mary (Morse) Bullen.  Mary (Morse) Bullen was the daughter of Samuel and Elizabeth (Jasper) Morse whose son Joseph is also a family ancestor.

 

Mr. Anthony Fisher, Gentleman, 1591-1671, immigrates by July 1637, baptized Syleham, Suffolk.

Alice (Unknown) Fisher, Wife, unknown – 1663.

Lydia Fisher, Daughter, 1621-1691, marries Daniel Morse, son of Samuel and Elizabeth (Jasper) Morse.

 

Nicholas Phillips, 1611-1672, immigrates by 1636, possibly from Wendover, Buckinghamshire.

Elizabeth (Jewson) Phillips, Wife, 1612 - before 1672.  Daughter, Experience, marries Samuel King, son of John and Mary (Unknown) King.

 

Samuel Morse, Husbandman, 1576-1654, Increase of 1635, baptized Boxted, Essex, "of Burgate and Redgrave, Suffolk". 

Elizabeth (Jasper) Morse, Wife, 1580-1655, Increase of 1635, baptized Redgrave, Suffolk.

Daniel Morse, Son, ~1610-after 9 March 1688, Increase of 1635, probably Redgrave, Suffolk, marries Lydia Fisher.

Joseph Morse, Son, 1613-before 20 June 1654, Increase of 1635, baptized Redgrave, Suffolk, marries Hannah Phillips, parentage unknown, although confirmed to not be a daughter of Reverend George Phillips of Watertown.

Mary Morse, Daughter, 1620-1691, Increase of 1635, baptized Burgate, Suffolk, marries Samuel Bullen.

Ancestors involved in the Antinomian Crisis 1636-1638

 

Mr. William Hutchinson, Merchant, 1586-1641, baptized Alford, Lincolnshire, Griffin of 1634, banished from Massachusetts Bay Colony in 1637.

Anne (Marbury) Hutchinson, Midwife, Wife & unauthorized Lay Minister, 1591-1643, baptized Alford, Lincolnshire, Griffin of 1634, also banished, killed by Native Americans along with most of her children in what is now Westchester County, NY.

Edward Hutchinson, Son, 1613-1675, baptized Alford, Lincolnshire, Griffin of 1634, marries Katherine Hamby, becomes a Captain in the Colonial Militia, and dies from wounds suffered at "Wheeler's Surprise" in King Phillip's War.

 

Hutchinson Supporters:

 

William Dyer, Milliner, 1609-1677, baptized Kirkby Laythorpe, Lincolnshire, immigrates 1635.

Mary (Barrett) Dyer, Wife & Quaker Martyr, 1611-1660, dies by hanging on Boston Common. Son Samuel marries Anne Hutchinson, daughter of Edward Hutchinson.

 

Thomas Marshall, Shoemaker, Ferryman, & Deacon, ~1602-1664, arrives 1634, disenfranchised and disarmed for his support of Anne Hutchinson, however he was not banished, and thus likely recanted. 

Samuel Marshall, Son, ~1627-Unk., arrives 1634, marries Mary Wilton, daughter of David and Katherine (possibly Hoskins) Wilton.

 

Robert Roice/Rice, ~1613-1667, origin unknown, arrives 1632, disarmed for supporting Anne Hutchinson but not banished and so likely recanted.

Elizabeth (Unknown) Roice/Rice, ~1620-after 1676.

Their son, Joshua Roice/Rice, marries Bathsheba Pratt, daughter of Joshua and Bathsheba (Unknown) Pratt.

 

James Penniman, Farmer, Selectman, 1599-1664, bp. Chipping Ongar, County Essex, disarmed for supporting Anne Hutchinson.

Lydia (Eliot) Penniman, Wife, 1610-1676, High Laver, County Essex (probably), sister of Reverend John Eliot, who disapproved of Anne Hutchinson.  John Eliot was a Missionary to the Native Americans and founded the Roxbury Latin School.

Their dauther, Lydia Penniman, marries Edward Adams.

 

Philip Sherman, Recorder (Secretary) of Rhode Island, 1611- bef. March 1686, arrives 1633, disarmed and banished.

Sarah (Odding) Porter Sherman, Wife, Unk. – aft. 1681.  Daughter Hannah marries William Chase.

 

Hutchinson Accusers:

 

Rev. Zechariah Symmes, Minister, 1599-1671, born Canterbury, Kent, Griffin of 1634.

Sarah (Baker) Symmes, Wife, ~1602-1677, Griffin of 1634, testified against Anne Hutchinson.

William Symmes, Son, 1627-perhaps 1691, baptized Dunstable, Bedfordshire, Griffin of 1634, marries Mary Sparhawk.

 

Others:

 

Richard Brackett, Husbandman, Boston Jail Keeper, Braintree Clerk of Writs, 1610-1690, baptized St. Gregory, Sudbury, Suffolk, arrives by November 1632, returns to England to marry in 1633.

Alice (Blower) Brackett, Wife, 1615-1690, baptized St. Gregory, Sudbury, Suffolk, arrives 1634.  Son John marries Hannah French.  Daughter Rachel marries Simon Crosby.

[Richard Brackett's widowed mother immigrated in 1635 on the Planter with her second husband as Rachel Sanders, along with Richard's sister Rachel (Brackett) Newcomb and her husband. Richard's brother, Peter, arrived in 1636.]

[Alice's father, Thomas Blower, immigrated to New England in 1635 on the Truelove.]

 

Rev. John Lothrop, Minister, 1584-1653, baptized Etton, Yorkshire, Griffin of 1634.

Thomas Lothrop, Son, 1613-1707, baptized Eastwell, Kent, Griffin of 1634, marries Sarah (Learned) Ewer, daughter of William Learned of the Winthrop Fleet.

 

Ancestors in the Pequot War

 

George Munnings, Cordwainer (shoemaker), 1596-1658, born Rattlesden, Suffolk, Elizabeth of Ipswich 1634.

Elizabeth (Groome) Munnings, Wife, ~1602-~1656, born (probably) Rattlesden, Suffolk, Elizabeth of Ipswich 1634.

Abigail Munnings, Daughter, 1626-~1667, born Rattlesden, Suffolk, Elizabeth of Ipswich 1634, marries John Sawin by 1647, he commits suicide in 1690.

 

The Downing Family

 

Mr. Emanuel Downing, Attorney, 1585-after November 1660, born Ipswich, County Suffolk, Thomas & Francis of 1638.  His first wife, Anne Ware, deceased mother of Mary below, was the daughter of Sir James Ware of Dublin, Ireland.  

Mary Downing, Daughter, ~1615-1647, Mary & Jane of 1633, marries Anthony Stoddard by 1640, their son, Reverend Solomon Stoddard (Harvard 1662) marries Esther (Warham) Mather, and their great-grandson is Jonathan Edwards.

 

Reverend John Fiske, Minister, 1601-1676, bp. St. Elham, County Suffolk, immigrates 1637.  Tutor to George Downing, son of Emanuel.

Ann (Gibbs) Fiske, Wife, ~1616-1672, immigrates 1637, sister of Mehitable (Gibbs) Folger.  Their son, Moses, marries Sarah Symmes, granddaughter of Reverend Zechariah Symmes.

 

New Haven Colony Ancestors

 

Town of New Haven:

 

Jasper Crane, Merchant, ~1602-1680, Hector of London, 1637, removes to Branford and then Newark.

Alice (Unknown) Crane, Wife, ~1608-1675, Hector of London, 1637.  Son Jasper marries Joanna Swaine, granddaughter of William Swaine. 

 

William Janes, Teacher, 1610-1690, possibly from County Essex, Hector of London, 1637.

Mary (Unknown) Janes, Wife, ~1616-1662, Hector of London, 1637.  Son Abel marries Mary Judd.

 

William Tuttle, Husbandman, 1607-1673, Ringstead, Northampshire, Planter, 1635.

Elizabeth (Unknown) Tuttle, Wife, ~1609-1684, Planter, 1635.  The Tuttle children cause numerous scandals in the late 1600's: one dies insane; one murders his sister; one murders her son; and one (Elizabeth), considered "erratic" marries Richard Edwards, who divorces her. 

 

John Whitehead, Apprentice to Jasper Crane, ~1630- bef. June 1695, Leamington Priors, Warwickshire, St. John, 1637, removes to Branford, marries Martha Bradfield, daughter of Leslie Bradfield.

 

Town of Guilford:

 

John Bishop, Unknown-1661, St. John, 1639.

Anne (Unknown) Bishop, Wife, Unknown-1676, St. John, 1639.

Stephen Bishop, Son, Unknown-1690, St. John, 1639, marries Tabitha Wilkinson, daughter of Widow Parnell Wilkinson.

 

Francis Bushnell, ~1580-1646, Horsham, Sussex, St. John, 1639, married Ferris (Quynell) Bushnell, 1587-1628 in England.  She died in England.

Richard Bushnell, Son, 1623-~1660, Horsham, Sussex, St. John, 1639, marries Mary Marvin, daughter of Matthew Marvin.

 

Abraham Crittenden, 1599-1683, Etchingham, Sussex, St. John, 1639.

Elizabeth (Usborne) Crittenden, Wife, 1598- before May 31, 1665, St. John, 1639, Staplehurst, Kent, St. John, 1639.

Mary Crittenden, Daughter, 1632-1669, St. John, 1639, marries George Bartlett.

 

Thomas Norton, Miller, 1609-1648, St. John, 1639.

Grace (Wells) Norton, Wife, 1610-1669, St. John, 1639.  She marries 2nd Francis Bushnell.

Grace Norton, Daughter, 1632 - ~1704, St. John, 1639, marries Lieutenant William Seward.

Mary Norton, Daughter, ~1635-after 1711, St. John, 1639, marries Samuel Rockwell.

 

John Stone, Clothier & Mason, ~1610-1687, Hereford-on-Wye, Surrey, St. John, 1639.

Mary (Unknown) Stone, Wife.  Son Nathaniel marries Mary Bartlett, daughter of George Bartlett and Mary (Crittenden) Bartlett.

 

Town of Branford:

 

Leslie Bradfield, Servant to John & Dorothy (Hooker) Chester, 1598-1655, Burstall, Leicester, settles in Watertown, removes to Wethersfield, then Branford, marries Mary (Unknown).  Daughter Martha marries John Whitehead.

 

Robert Rose, Husbandman, ~1594-~1665, origin unknown, Francis of 1634, Wethersfield by 1635, Branford by 1644.

Margery (Unknown) Rose, Wife, ~1600-~1644, origin unknown, Francis of 1634.

Robert Rose, Son (twin), ~1619 – 1683, origin unknown, Francis of 1634, marries Rebecca Unknown.

 

Mr. William Swaine, Magistrate, ~1585-~1657, possibly Higham by Nayland, Suffolk, Elizabeth & Anne of 1635, arrives in Watertown with Children Samuel, Mary (kidnapped by Nepaupuck), Daniel.  Removes to Wethersfield, then Branford.

Samuel Swaine, Captain, ~1622 - ~1682, possibly Higham by Nayland, Suffolk, Elizabeth & Anne of 1635, arrives in Watertown with his father, William, and siblings.  Removes to Wethersfield, then Branford. 

  

 

 

Ancestors in New Netherland

 

Cornelis Melyn, Tailor, "Dresser of Fine Linens", and Patroon at Staten Island, ~1600-1674, origin Antwerp, then part of the Spanish Netherlands, travelled between Europe and New Netherland on various ships between 1638-1658.

Janneken (Adriaens) Melyn, Wife, ~1604-1674, Den Eyckenboom (The Oak Tree) of 1641, origin unknown.

Mariken Melyn, Daughter, 1637-after 1693, Den Eyckenboom (The Oak Tree) of 1641, marries as her second husband Matthias Hatfield in New Haven after the family flees New Netherland for the relative safety of New England.

 

Long Island Ancestors

 

Southampton, Long Island:

 

Nathaniel Kirtland, ~1613-1686, immigrates 1635, Hopewell, origin Sherington, Buckinghamshire.

Parnell (Unknown) Kirtland, Wife, ~1623-1694.  Son John marries Lydia Pratt, daughter of William and Elizabeth (Clarke) Pratt of Saybrook.

 

John Ogden, Stonemason, 1610-1682, immigrates 1641, origin poss. Yorkshire. Removes to Elizabethtown, New Jersey.

Jane (possibly Bond) Ogden, ~1618-bef. 1691.  Son Jonathan marries Rebecca (poss. Wood/Ward).

 

Southold, Long Island:

 

Barnabas Horton, Baker, 1600-1680, arr. 1639 prob., prob. origin Mowsley, Leicestershire.

Mary (poss. Langton) Horton, Wife, ~1611 – aft. 1691.  Son, Captain Jonathan Horton, marries Bethia Wells, daughter of William Wells below.

 

Jasper Griffing, Stonemason, ~1646-1718, immigrates by 1668, origin Wales.

Hannah (Unknown) Griffing, 1652-1699, born prob. Manchester, New England.  Son Robert marries Lydia Kirtland, granddaughter of Nathaniel and Parnell Kirtland of Southold and daughter of John and Lydia (Pratt) Kirtland of Saybrook.

 

Jeremiah Meacham, Fuller, ~1613-1695, arr. by 1650, origin Somersetshire.  Removes to Salem by 1660.

Margaret (Unknown) Meacham, Wife, ~1622- after 1679.

Jeremiah Meacham, Son, 1644 – 1743, marries Deborah Browne, daughter of John Browne and Hester (Makepeace) Browne, and granddaughter of Thomas Makepeace and Alice (Brasier) Makepeace.

 

Henry Tuthill, 1612-by 1650, immigrates by 1635 poss. from Tharston, County Norfolk.

Bridget (Unknown) Tuthill, Wife, ~1615 – before 1655.  Son John marries Deliverance King, daughter of William King of Salem.  After Henry's death, Bridget marries William Wells below.

 

Jeremiah Vail, Blacksmith, 1617-1687, immigrates to Salem ~1639, removes to Southold ~1659.

Mary (prob. Folger) Paine, Wife, Unk.-bef. 1685, widow of Peter Paine.  Son John marries Grace Brockett/Braddick.

 

William Wells, Lawyer, 1605-1671, immigrates prob. 1635-1639, poss. from Norwich, County Norfolk.

Mary (Unknown) Wells, Wife, ~1639 – 1709.  Daughter, Bethia, marries Jonathan Horton, son of Barnabas and Mary (Langton) Horton.

 

Martha's Vineyard and Nantucket

 

John Bland alias Smith, ~1585- before 1668, from Colchester, County Essex, possibly sailed on the Globe of 1635 ae 26, at Martha's Vineyard by 1646. This man is known as John Smith Sr. in the records of Watertown, where he lived prior to moving to Martha's Vineyard. 

Isabel (Drake) Bland, Wife, ~1590-1639, immigrates ~1635 possibly on the Globe.

Annabel Bland alias Smith, ~1615-bef. Aug. 1683, immigrates ~1635 possibly on the Globe, marries William Barsham of Watertown.

 

John Folger, Planter, Unknown - ~1660, from Diss, County Norfolk, immigrates to Watertown 1642, Martha's Vineyard in 1652.

Meribah (Gibbs) Folger, Wife, Unknown–after 1664, from Freudes Hall, Diss, County Norfolk.

Mary Folger, Daughter, ~1617- bef. July 18, 1685, marries 2nd Jeremiah Vail of Southold.

 

Richard Gardner, Magistrate, ~1632 – 1724, born Salem, removed to Nantucket 1667.

Sarah Shattuck, Wife, ~1632-1724, immigrates to Salem 1641 with her widowed mother, Damaris (Unknown) Shattuck Gardner (The widow Damaris married Richard's father, Thomas Gardner of Salem.) 

Miriam Gardner, Daughter, Unknown-before 1704, marries John Worth in 1684.

 

Thomas Macy, Clothier/Merchant, 1608-1682, immigrates to Newbury, Essex County, MBC by 1637, removes to Salisbury 1648, first settler on Nantucket 1659, originally from Chilmark, County Wiltshire.

Sarah (Hopcott) Macy, Wife, ~1612-1706, arrives Salem ~1640.  Daughter, Sarah,

marries William Worth of Nantucket.

 

Richard Sarson, Merchant, ~1637-1703, immigrates by 1656.

Jane (Paine) Mayhew, Wife, ~1625-unknown, widow of Reverend Thomas Mayhew.  Daughter, Mehitable Sarson, marries Thomas Lathrop of Barnstable.

 

William Worth, Blacksmith & Mariner, Unknown-1724, arrived Nantucket by 1665.

Marries Sarah Macy above.  Son, John, marries Miriam Gardner, daughter of Thomas and Sarah (Hopcott) Gardner.

 

The Dyer Family

 

Mr. William Dyer, Milliner, 1609-1677, baptized Kirkby Laythorpe, Lincolnshire, immigrates to Boston 1635. 

Mary (Barrett) Dyer, Wife & Quaker Martyr, 1611-1660, immigrates 1635, dies by hanging on Boston Common.  Son, Samuel, born in 1635 in Boston, marries Anne Hutchinson, born 1643 in Boston, daughter of Edward Hutchinson and granddaughter of Anne Hutchinson.

 

Ancestors in Duxbury and Plymouth

 

William Collier, London Adventurer, Grocer, and Magistrate, 1585-1671, Southwark, Surrey, immigrates 1633.

Jane (Clark) Collier, Wife, ~1591-after 1666, origin unknown, immigrates 1633.

Sarah Collier, Daughter, 1616-1691, Southwark, Surrey, immigrates 1633, marries first Love Brewster and second Richard Parke.

 

Stephen Tracy, Weaver, 1596-~1655, Anne or Little James of 1623.

Tryphosa (Lee) Tracy, Wife, ~1597-before 1655, origin unknown, Jacob of 1625.

Sarah Tracy, Daughter, 1623-~1708, Leiden, Holland, Jacob of 1625, marries George Partridge.  Their daughter, Lydia Partridge marries William Brewster, son of Love and Sarah Brewster.

 

John Holmes, Messenger/Marshall, ~1611-after October 1651, possibly Colchester, County Essex, immigrates 1632.

Sarah (Unknown) Holmes, Wife, ~1615-1650, origin unknown, date of immigration unknown.  Their son, John Holmes, marries Patience Faunce, daughter of John Faunce of the Anne of 1623 and Patience (Morton) Faunce, also of the Anne.  John and Patience Holmes' daughter, Desire, marries John Churchill.

The Munroe-Pierce-Ball Family

 

William Munroe, ~1625 – 1718, origin Scotland, brought to America as a Prisoner of War after the Battle of Worcester in 1651, John & Sarah.

 

John Pierce, Weaver, ~1588 – 1661, Norwich, County Norfolk, immigrates to Watertown by 1636 (1st trip).

Elizabeth (Trull) Pierce, Wife, 1590 – 1667, Norwich, County Norfolk, immigrates to Watertown in 1637 with her husband (his 2nd trip) and 4 children.

Elizabeth Pierce, Daughter, 1624- by Oct. 1665, origin Norwich, County Norfolk, immigrates to Watertown in 1637, she marries John Ball below by 1644, and dies insane.

 

John Ball, Tailor, ~1620-1676, origin unknown, immigrates to Watertown by 1644, dies with his second wife and young son in Lancaster Massacre during King Phillip's War.

Mary Ball, Daughter, ~1651 – 1692, marries William Munroe at Cambridge Farms (Lexington) by 1673.

 

Ancestors in the Salem area, Massachusetts Bay Colony

 

Thomas Dickinson, Planter, 1620 – 1662, origin unknown, arrives Salem by 1638.

Jennet (Unknown) Dickinson, Wife, ~1620 – after 1662, origin unknown.

Sarah Dickinson, Daughter, 1644 – 1724, marries Jeremiah Jewett.

 

Thomas Farrar, Farmer, 1615-1693, origin Burnley, County Lancaster, arrives Lynn 1640.  Accused of witchcraft in 1692 and imprisoned in Boston for several months.

Elizabeth (Unknown) Farrar, Wife, Unk. – 1681.

Sarah Farrar, Daughter, ~1648 – 1712, marries Melatiah Lothrop of Barnstable, Massachusetts, son of Thomas Lothrop of Barnstable, and grandson of Reverend John Lothrop.  Melatiah's sister, Mary, marries John Stearns of Billerica. 

 

Phineas Fiske, Captain, ~1600 – 1673, Wingfield, County Suffolk, arrives Salem by 1642,

Sarah (Francis) Fiske, Wife, unknown – 1659, arrives Salem by 1642.

Thomas Fiske, Son, 1630 – 1707, Wingfield, County Suffolk, Salem by 1642, marries Joanna White.  Thomas was the Foreman of the jury that first acquitted and then convicted Rebecca Nurse in the Salem Witch Trials.  He later apologized for his role in the tragedy.

 

Zeccheus Gould, Yeoman, 1589 – 1668, origin probably Hemel-Hempstead, Hertfordshire, arrives Weymouth & Lynn by 1639.

Phebe (Deacon) Gould, Wife, 1597 – 1663, arrives with Zeccheus and 5 children by 1639.

Mary Gould, Daughter, ~1621 - ~1680, origin Hemel-Hempstead, Hertfordshire, marries John Reddington, Sr. by 1649.

 

Henry Herrick, Yeoman, ~1598 – 1671, origin unknown, arrives Salem 1630, marries Edith Laskin by 1636.

Edith (Laskin) Herrick, Wife, ~1612 – after 1677, origin unknown, arrives Salem 1635 with her father and elder brother.  The Herrick's son, John, marries Mary Reddington, daughter of John Reddington, Sr. and Mary Gould.

 

Edward Holyoke, Grocer, 1586 – 1660, Agent for Lord Brooke, Judge, & Representative to the General Court, 1586 – 1660, origin Tanworth Parish in Alcester, Warwickshire, arrives Lynn ~1637.

Prudence (Stockton) Holyoke, Wife, 1584 – before 1648, arrives Lynn ~ 1637 with husband and 7 children.

Ann Holyoke, Daughter, 1621 – 1665, marries Thomas Putnam in 1643.  Daughter Prudence marries William Wyman.  Thomas and Anne's granddaughter, Anne Putnam, will be the primary accuser in the Salem Witch Trials of 1692.

 

Joseph Jewett, Merchant & Clothier, 1609 – 1661, origin Bradford, Yorkshire, arrives Salem 1638, John of London.

Mary (Mallinson) Jewett, Wife, 1606 – 1652, origin Bradford, Yorkshire, Salem 1638, John of London.

Jeremiah Jewett, Son, 1637 – 1714, Bradford, Yorkshire, Salem 1638, John of London, marries Sarah Dickinson, daughter of Thomas and Jennet (Unknown) Dickinson.

 

Hugh Laskin, Planter, ~1587 – 1659, origin unknown, arrives Salem 1635 with 2 adult children.

Edith Laskin, Daughter, ~1612 – after Mar. 1677, Salem 1635, marries Henry Herrick.

 

George Martyn, Servant to Samuel Winsley and Blacksmith, ~1618 – 1686, possibly from Knodishall, County Suffolk, arrives Salem ~1642.  His second wife, Susannah (North) Martyn, is accused of witchcraft repeatedly during her life and is eventually hanged in the Salem witch hysteria.

Hannah (Unknown) Martyn, Wife, unknown – by 1646.

Daughter Susannah Martyn, 1644 – 1730, marries Ezekiel Worthen.  Tradition holds that John Greenleaf Whittier's poem "The Witch's Daughter" is based on Hannah and her stepmother. 

 

Jeremiah Meacham, Fuller, ~1613-1695, arr. by 1650, origin Somersetshire.  After first settling in Southold, the family moved to Salem by 1660.

Margaret (Unknown) Meacham, Wife, ~1622- after 1679.

Jeremiah Meacham, Son, 1644 – 1743, marries Deborah Browne, daughter of John Browne and Hester (Makepeace) Browne, and granddaughter of Thomas Makepeace and Alice (Brasier) Makepeace.

 

John Putnam, Husbandman, 1583 – 1662, origin Aston Abbotts, Buckinghamshire, arrives ~1640.

Priscilla (Gould) Putnam, Wife, ~1885 – unknown, origin Bovingdon, Buckinghamshire.

Thomas Putnam, Son, Farmer & Parish Clerk, 1615 – 1686, origin Aston Abbotts, Buckinghamshire, arrives ~1640, marries Anne Holyoke, daughter of Edward Holyoke. 

 

John Reddington Sr., Planter, ~1620 – 1690, origin possibly Hertfordshire, arrives by 1648.

Mary (Gould) Reddington, Wife, ~1621 - ~1680, origin Hemel-Hempstead, Hertfordshire, marries John Reddington, Sr. by 1649.

Mary Reddington, Daughter, 1651 – before 1690, marries John Herrick.

 

George Worthen, Joiner, ~1597 – ~1642, origin Bristol, Gloucestershire, arrives Salem by 1640 and possibly Lynn by 1638.

Margery (Hayward) Worthen, Wife, ~1593 – 1644, origin Trowbridge, Wiltshire., arrives Salem by 1640 and possibly Lynn by 1638

Ezekiel Worthen, Son, 1636 – 1716, arrives Salem by 1640 and possibly Lynn by 1638, marries Hannah Martyn, daughter of George Martyn.

Combatants and Noncombatant Victims in King Phillip's War

(immigrations status not included here)

 

George Abbott of Andover, 1627-1689

Ensign Edward Adams of Medfield, 1629-1716

Captain Samuel Adams of Chelmsford, 1617-1689

John Ball of Lancaster, ~1620-1676 (noncombatant, killed in raid on Lancaster)

Hugh Clark of Mount Hope, ~1613-1693,

Gershom Cutter of Cambridge, 1653-1738

Lieutenant John Dodge of Wenham, 1631-1711

Timothy Dwight of Dedham, ~1631 – 1718

John Ellis of Sandwich, 1596-1677

Jonas Fairbanks of Lancaster 1625-1676 (killed in raid on Lancaster)

Thomas Hazen of Rowley, 1658-1735 

Captain Edward Hutchinson of Boston, 1613-1675 (noncombatant, died of wounds after ambush in Nipmunk Territory)

Jeremiah Jewett of Ipswich, 1637-1714

Joseph Jewett of Rowley, 1656-1694

Abiel Lamb of Muddy River (Brookline), 1646-after 1710

Jacob Leonard of Weymouth, 1647-1717  

Capt. Samuel Marshall of Windsor, ~1627-1675 (fought and died at Great Swamp Fight)

John Nutting of Groton, ~1623-1676, (noncombatant, killed in raid on Groton)

Jonathan Prescott of Lancaster, 1646-1721

Thomas Sawin of Sherborn, 1657-7127

John Sharpe of Muddy River (Brookline), 1643-1676 (fought and died in raid on Sudbury)

Henry Spring of Watertown, 1628-1697

Henry Spring of Watertown, 1662-1749 

Capt. John Stearns of Billerica, 1654-1728

Ensign Samuel Tarbox of Lynn, 1647-1715 

Ensign Christopher Webb of Braintree, 1630-1694

William Woodcock of Hingham, ~1620-1703

 

Pennsylvania Beginnings

 

John Bevan, Minister, Judge, Assemblyman, 1646 – 1726, origin Trevorigg, Glamorganshire, Wales, immigrated in 1683, possibly on the Morning Star, although his household items sailed on the Bristol Factor.

Barbara (Aubrey) Bevan, Wife, 1637 – 1710, immigrated in 1683 with husband and children.

Elizabeth Bevan, Daughter, 1678 – before February 1760, immigrated at age 5 in 1683, marries Joseph Richardson.

 

Samuel Richardson, "Bricklayer" and Merchant, unknown – 1719, origin unknown, although believed to have been in London during the Peel Meeting in 1670, immigrated to Philadelphia via Jamaica in 1687.

Elinor (Talinger) Richardson, Wife, unknown – 1703, origin unknown, immigrated in 1687.

Joseph Richardson, Son, ~1667 – 1752, origin unknown, immigrated about age 20 in 1687, marries Elizabeth Bevan.

 

The Edwards and Tuttle Families of Hartford and New Haven

 

Anne (Wallingford) Edwards Cole, Widow of Reverend Richard Edwards and Wife of James Cole, ~1589 - ~1680. 

William Edwards, Son, Cooper, ~1618 - ~1680, Aldgate, London, immigrated with his mother Anne and stepfather Cole.  He was the ancestor of more clergymen than any other New England settler (with the possible exception of Robert Williams of Roxbury.) 

Agnes (Harris) Spencer Edwards, Wife, 1604 - ~1672, widow of William Spencer, origin Barnstaple, Devonshire, England, immigrated by 1633.

Richard Edwards, Lawyer, 1647 – 1718, Hartford, marries Elizabeth Tuttle and divorces her 23 years later. 

Timothy Edwards, Reverend, 1669 – 1758, Hartford, graduates Harvard 1691, marries Esther Stoddard.  Son Reverend Jonathan Edwards was the brilliant and brittle "fire and brimstone" preacher and educator who married into the Pierpont family.

 

Salem Area Ancestors

(immigrant status not included)

Thomas Farrar, accused and imprisoned, died of natural causes in 1693.

Thomas Fiske, Foreman at Rebecca Nurse's trial.

Zeccheus Gould, convicted of providing hospitality to Quakers. His sister, Priscilla married John Putnam; they were the progenitors of the main accusers in the Salem Witch Trials.

 

The Herrick Family:

Joseph, Salem Constable, son of immigrant Henry Herrick.

Henry, Jury Member Rebecca Nurse's trial, recanted, son of immigrant Henry Herrick.

John, youth, son of John and Mary (Reddington) Herrick; grandson of immigrant Henry Herrick.

 

Jeremiah Jewett, no known involvement.

George Martyn, his second wife, Susannah (North) Martyn was hanged. 

Jeremiah Meacham, no known involvement, although tradition holds that the hangings at Proctor's Ledge were witnessed from his brother's house.

John and Anne (Holyoke) Putnam, parents and grandparents of principal accusers: Thomas and Ann Putnam.

Ezekiel Worthen, married Hannah Martyn, stepdaughter of Susannah (North) Martyn, tradition holds he was so disgusted with the witch trials that he converted to Quakerism.

Grissell (Fletcher) [Jewell] [Griggs] [Kibby] [Gurney] Burge was either the unluckiest woman when it came to marital longevity, or she had an uncanny ability to marry men destined to die soon, or she was a femme fatal, luring men into marriage and then helping them move on to their "greater reward".

 

Member of a well-documented Concord, Massachusetts Bay Colony, family, she married first a man from Braintree, whose records were scarce to non-existent.  Subsequent marriages shed little light on her life.  She was the subject of an in-depth article by Mary Lovering Holman, and her family history was investigated by Winifred Lovering Holman.  Both historians shed light on the events surrounding her life, but neither could answer the many questions surrounding the why's and how's.

 

I attempted to do just this, and while I was able to greatly amplify her life story, I was unable to tackle those pesky why's and how's.  

 

Nonetheless, I am happy to submit my work to the public record in the hope that other genealogists and historians can use it to shed light on this most enigmatic woman.

 

Click on the title above to read the article.

In honor of Women's History month I've written "The Law of Coverture and the Erasure of 199 Female Ancestors".  I developed the idea after conducting extensive genealogical research into North American family ancestors and discovering that out of several hundred ancestors, at least 199 women have been lost to history because either their first and/or last names were never recorded anywhere. 

 

The first woman to suffer this indignity was "Mrs. Chilton" who sailed on the Mayflower with her husband James and daughter Mary.  No historical source documents her name, and so despite having run into legal trouble in England for conducting unorthodox burial rites and despite sailing on one of most famous ships in history, no one can identify her other than as the wife of James Chilton.

 

The article begins with a general description of how women's names were kept out of historical records, follows with a concise description of the law of Coverture, under which a woman's legal existence was subsumed by her husband's, and ends with a list of 199 women whose unmarried identity was lost to history.

 

Click on the title above to read the article.

 

Lost to history. What happens when a young woman's surname is not stated in her wedding record, her children are only recorded under their father's name, her death goes unrecorded, and her tombstone disappears? To find her, I combed through records of every woman named Grace born in central Massachusetts. I disregarded women who were too old or too young, who married others, and who just didn't fit the known facts and probabilities. Along the way I spoke with historians, neighbors, and family experts. Eventually, I concluded that our Grace was Grace Fairbanks and solved a 340-year-old mystery.

 

Click on the title above to read the article.

Registered members of the New England Genealogical and Biographical Society can access the published version here: https://www.americanancestors.org/DB202/i/62067/167/0.