“Yes, Charley,” replied Grandfather; “but when Roger Williams travelled thither, over hills and valleys, and through the tangled woods, and across swamps and streams, it was a journey of several days. Well, his little plantation has now grown to be a populous city; and the inhabitants have a great veneration for Roger Williams. His name is familiar in the mouths of all, because they see it on their bank-bills. How it would have perplexed this good clergyman if he had been told that he should give his name to the ROGER WILLIAMS BANK!”
“When he was driven from Massachusetts,” said Lawrence, “and began his journey into the woods, he must have felt as if he were burying himself forever from the sight and knowledge of men. Yet the whole country has now heard of him, and will remember him forever.”
“Yes,” answered Grandfather; “it often happens that the outcasts of one generation are those who are reverenced as the wisest and best of men by the next. The securest fame is that which comes after a man’s death. But let us return to our story. When Roger Williams was banished, he appears to have given the chair to Mrs. Anne Hutchinson. At all events, it was in her possession in 1687. She was a very sharp-witted and well-instructed lady, and was so conscious of her own wisdom and abilities that she thought it a pity that the world should not have the benefit of them. She therefore used to hold lectures in Boston once or twice a week, at which most of the women attended. Mrs. Hutchinson presided at these meetings, sitting with great state and dignity in Grandfather’s chair.”
“Grandfather, was it positively this very chair?” demanded Clara, laying her hand upon its carved elbow.
“Why not, my dear Clara?” said Grandfather. “Well, Mrs. Hutchinson’s lectures soon caused a great disturbance; for the ministers of Boston did not think it safe and proper that a woman should publicly instruct the people in religious doctrines. Moreover, she made the matter worse by declaring that the Rev. Mr. Cotton was the only sincerely pious and holy clergyman in New England. Now, the clergy of those days had quite as much share in the government of the country, though indirectly, as the magistrates themselves; so you may imagine what a host of powerful enemies were raised up against Mrs. Hutchinson. A synod was convened; that is to say, an assemblage of all the ministers in Massachusetts. They declared that there were eighty-two erroneous opinions on religious subjects diffused among the people, and that Mrs. Hutchinson’s opinions were of the number.”
“If they had eighty-two wrong opinions,” observed Charley, “I don’t see how they could have any right ones.”
“Mrs. Hutchinson had many zealous friends and converts,” continued Grandfather. “She was favored by young Henry Vane, who had come over from England a year or two before, and had since been chosen governor of the colony, at the age of twenty-four. But Winthrop and most of the other leading men, as well as the ministers, felt an abhorrence of her doctrines. Thus two opposite parties were formed; and so fierce were the dissensions that it was feared the consequence would be civil war and bloodshed. But Winthrop and the ministers being the most powerful, they disarmed and imprisoned Mrs. Hutchinson’s adherents. She, like Roger Williams, was banished.”
“Dear Grandfather, did they drive the poor woman into the woods?” exclaimed little Alice, who contrived to feel a human interest even in these discords of polemic divinity.
“They did, my darling,” replied Grandfather; “and the end of her life was so sad you must not hear it. At her departure, it appears, from the best authorities, that she gave the great Chair to her friend Henry Vane. He was a young man of wonderful talents and great learning, who had imbibed the religious opinions of the Puritans, and left England with the intention of spending his life in Massachusetts. The people chose him governor; but the controversy about Mrs. Hutchinson, and other troubles, caused him to leave country in 1637. You may read the subsequent events of his life in the History of England.”
“Yes, Grandfather,” cried Laurence; “and we may read them better in Mr. Upham’s biography of Vane. And what a beautiful death he died, long afterwards! beautiful, though it was on a scaffold.”