It is, however, to this controversy that we are indebted for the second of the pieces reprinted in this volume. While wandering among the uncivilized tribes of Indians, Mr. Cotton’s letter came into Mr. Williams’s hands.[39] It seems to have been a part of a somewhat extended correspondence between them, and to have originated in Mr. Cotton’s twofold desire to correct the aberrations, as he deemed them, of his old friend, and to shield himself from the charge of being not only an accessory, but to some degree the instigator of the sentence of banishment decreed against him. His defence of himself is unworthy of his candour, and betrays, by its subtle distinctions and passionate language, by his cruel insinuations and ready seizure of the most trifling inaccuracies, a mind ill at ease and painfully conscious that he had dealt both unjustly and unkindly with his former companion in tribulation. By some means, but without his knowledge, Mr. Cotton’s letter got into print, to him most “unwelcome;” and while in England, in 1644, Mr. Williams printed his reply. It will be seen that Mr. Williams has given the whole of it: and with scrupulous fidelity, adding thereto his remarks and reasonings. Mr. Cotton, however, did not hesitate to aver the righteousness of the persecution and banishment which Williams endured.[40]
In the Colonial Records, the date of Mr. Williams’s sentence is November 3, (1635). He immediately withdrew from all church communion with the authors of his sufferings. A few attached friends assembled around him, and preparations were made for departure.[41] It would seem that he had, for some time, contemplated the formation of a settlement where liberty, both civil and religious, should be enjoyed. This reached the ears of his adversaries. His Lord’s day addresses were attractive to many, and withdrew them from the congregations of the dominant sect. Provoked at “the increase of concourse of people to him on the Lord’s days in private,” and fearing the further extension of principles so subversive of their state-church proceedings, they resolved on Mr. Williams’s immediate deportation. Two or three months had to elapse, of the additional time granted for his departure, before their sentence could take effect. Delay was dangerous: therefore the Court met at Boston on the 11th of January, 1636, and resolved that he should immediately be shipped for England, in a vessel then riding at anchor in the bay. A warrant was despatched summoning him to Boston. He returned answer that his life was in hazard; and came not. A pinnace was sent to fetch him; “but when they came at his house, they found he had been gone three days before; but whither they could not learn.”[42]
His wife and two children, the youngest less than three months old, were left behind. By a mortgage on his property at Salem he had raised money to supply his wants. He then plunged into the untrodden wilds; being “denied the common air to breathe in, and a civil cohabitation upon the same common earth; yea, and also without mercy and human compassion, exposed to winter miseries in a howling wilderness.”[43]
After fourteen weeks’ exposure to frost and snow, “not knowing what bread or bed did mean,” he arrived at Seekonk,[44] on the east bank of Pawtucket river. Here he began to build and plant. In the following expressive lines he seems to refer to the kind support afforded him by the Indians:—
“God’s providence is rich to his,
Let none distrustful be;
In wilderness, in great distress,
These ravens have fed me.”[45]
Their hospitality he requited throughout his long life by acts of benevolence, and by unceasing efforts to benefit and befriend them. He taught them Christianity; and was the first of the American pilgrims to convey to these savage tribes the message of salvation.