Solution Manual for Introductory Chemistry Atoms First

5th Edition Russo Silver 0321927117 9780321927118

Full link download

Test Bank:
https://testbankpack.com/p/test-bank-for-introductory-chemistry-atoms-first-5th-
edition-russo-silver-0321927117-9780321927118/
Solution Manual: https://testbankpack.com/p/solution-manual-for-
introductory-chemistry-atoms-first-5th-edition-russo-silver-0321927117-
9780321927118/
 CHAPTER

2
The Numerical Side of Chemistry

2.1 See solution in textbook.

2.2 Ike is more accurate. Mike’s average value is 262, which is higher than the actual value; Ike’s average
value is 260, which is equal to the actual value. However, Mike is more precise because his values
have a spread of 10 1266 - 2562 and Ike’s have a spread of 36 1278 - 2422.
2.3 Jack will be more accurate. If he completely fills the half-quart container twice, the total volume will
be very close to 1 quart. However, Jill needs to estimate 1> 40 of the 10-gallon container, which is
difficult to do with much accuracy 11>40 because 1 gallon = 4 quarts2.
2.4 See solution in textbook.
2.5 The uncertainty is {0.1 gallon because the last digit in the measured volume, 16.0 gallons, is in the
tenths column.
2.6 The uncertainty is {0.01 V because the tenths value can be read from the dial (each shorter mark on
the dial is 0.1 V). Thus the first digit that must be estimated is the one in the hundredths place.
2.7 See solution in textbook.
2.8 You would express the uncertainty {0.1 in. in the measured value 600 in. by using a decimal
point—600.—to indicate that both zeros are significant.
2.9 Number of significant figures Uncertainty
10.0 3 {0.1
0.004 60 3 {0.00001
123 3 {1
2.10 See solution in textbook.
2.11 0.473 (the negative exponent means the number gets smaller).
2.12 47, 325 (the positive exponent means the number gets larger).
2.13 See solution in textbook.
2.14 0.002 35
2.15 6000
2.16 See solution in textbook.

155

Copyright © 2015 Pearson Education, Inc.

2.17 4.710 000 0 * 1013. The fact that the uncertainty is {1 million tells you the final significant digit is
in the 1-million column, which in this number is the fifth zero from the left.
2.18 4.710 000 * 1013. The uncertainty of {10 million tells you the last significant digit is in the
10-millions column, the fourth zero from the left.
2.19 See solution in textbook.
2.20 44 miles2. The answer can have only two significant figures because of the 2.0 miles.
2.21 660. hours. The exact 3 has an infinite number of significant figures, meaning the number of signifi-
cant figures in the answer is determined by the value 220. hours. The decimal point following the
zero tells you this number has three significant figures, and that is how many the answer must have.
2.22 See solution in textbook.
2.23 See solution in textbook.
2.24 (a) 6.1 * 10 2 pounds/in. The answer can have only two significant figures because of the 2.0 in.
(b) 6.11 * 10 2 or 611 pounds/in. The answer can have only three significant figures because of the
2.00 in.
(c) 86.88 cm because the 4 you multiply by is an exact number, assumed to have an infinite number
of significant figures. Thus the product of 21.72 * 4 should contain the same number of digits as
there are in 21.72.
2.25 See solution in textbook.
2.26 1555 cm
+ 0.001 cm
+ 0.08 cm
1555.801 cm, which rounded off to the correct number of significant figures is 1556 cm.
2.27 142 cm
- 0.48 cm
141.52 cm, which rounded off to the correct number of significant figures is 142 cm.
2.28 See solution in textbook.
2.29 4.736 km. The fact that 1 km is the same as 1000 m means that 4.736 km is the same as
4.736 * 1000 m = 4736 m.
2.30 25 mm. The fact that 1 mm is the same as 0.001 m means that 25 mm is the same as
25 * 0.001 m = 0.025 m.
2.31 See solution in textbook.
2.32 Because 1 mL is 1> 1000 of a liter, multiply the given number of liters by 1000 to get 2.5 * 10 3
milliliters.
2.33 1 cm3 = 1 mL, which means that 246.7 cm3 = 246.7 mL.
2.34 K = °C + 273.15; therefore °C - K = 273.15; 263.5 K - 273.15 = -9.7 °C.
9
°F = 32 + °C = 15 °F
5

2.35 See solution in textbook.

156 Complete Solutions

Copyright © 2015 Pearson Education, Inc.

2.36 The volume of the cube is 10.0 mm * 10.0 mm * 10.0 mm = 1.00 * 103 mm3. Because
the problem asks for grams per milliliter, you must convert this volume to milliliters. The
easiest way to do this is to first change mm3 to cm3. Note that 10.0 mm = 1.00 cm; thus:
110.0 mm23 = 11.00 cm23 or 1.00 * 10 3 mm3 = 1.00 cm3.

The density of the cube is therefore:

4.70 g>1.00 cm3 = 4.70 g>cm3.
Because 1.00 cm3 = 1.00 mL, the density is 4.70 g>mL.
500.0 g
2.37 = 3.322 g>mL
150.5 mL
2.38 See solution in textbook.
1 day 24 h
2.39
24 h 1 day
1h
2.40 50.0 miles * = 0.0833 h
600.0 miles
600.0 miles
2.41
1h * 50.0 h = 3.00 * 104 miles

2.42 See solution in textbook.

1000 mL 0.001 30 g
2.43 500.0 L * * = 650. g = 6.50 * 10 2 g
1L 1 mL
1 kg
650. g * = 0.650 kg
1000 g

453.6 g 1 mL
2.44 1.50 lb * * = 59.7 mL
1 lb 11.4 g

6 cups flour 1 cup flour

2.45 Conversion factors:
1 cake 120.0 g flour
1 cup flour 1 cake
6955 g flour * * = 9.660 cakes
120.0 g flour 6 cups flour

You can bake nine cakes (it’s not possible to bake a partial cake).
2.46 Your time conversion is easy enough—hours to minutes—but going from meters squared to feet
squared knowing only the conversion factors given in the chapter means several multiplications plus
squaring the factors:

m2 1h 100 cm 2 1 in. 2 1 ft 2
250.0 * * a b * a b * a b = 44.85 ft2 >min
h 60 min 1m 2.54 cm 12 in.

The answer has four significant digits because 2.54 cm in the centimeter–inch conversion factor is an
exact number.
2.47 See solution in textbook.
2.48 See solution in textbook.
Copyright © 2015 Pearson Education, Inc.
2.49 See solution in textbook.

Chapter 2: The Numerical Side of Chemistry 157

Copyright © 2015 Pearson Education, Inc.

Another document from Scribd.com that is
random and unrelated content:
William Harris, to whom a legal dispute was as the very air he breathed.
For many years he was Roger Williams’ thorn in the flesh until that
usually mild and forgiving individual had him arrested on a charge of
treason for his persistent opposition to the government.
William Coddington, who, perhaps more than any other person, had
been to blame for the discord that distressed Roger Williams, now came
forward and promised obedience. Much as we disapprove of his
disloyalty, we cannot help admiring his simple and dignified behavior as
he publicly professed his allegiance:
“I, William Coddington, do freely submit to the authority of his
Highness in this colony as it is now united, and that with all my heart.”
During Roger Williams’ presidency, Warwick and Pawtuxet continued
to be a source of vexation. Certain inhabitants of those settlements still
rebelled against their proper authorities, claiming that they owed
allegiance to Massachusetts alone. Even the Indians used the name of the
Bay Colony to cover acts of lawlessness. Roger Williams protested in
writing to Massachusetts against her encouragement of such a state of
affairs. Not receiving a satisfactory answer to his first letter, he wrote a
second time.
One matter which he discussed in this correspondence—the question
of defence against possible Indian outbreaks—was as vital as land
disputes. It was necessary that his colony secure a supply of ammunition.
Twice he asked Massachusetts for the privilege of purchasing it from her,
but she flatly refused to sell it. Her action was both unneighborly and
unjust.
The condition of Providence Plantations at this time was extremely
dangerous. As an exposed frontier colony, unshielded from the Indians
about her, her risk of attacks by them was always greater than that of her
more protected sister colonies. Though the natives, as a general thing,
had a wholesome respect for Roger Williams, yet it was not safe to trust
the best of them. Canonicus and Miantonomo were both dead. There was
no knowing to what lengths their tribe might go when equipped with
firearms and strong drink. There was no doubt that they had been so
supplied by unscrupulous Dutchmen and the very same Englishmen who
had refused to sell to the colonists. Roger Williams’ indignant words
showed clearly what he thought of such practices:
 “For myself ... I have refused the gain of thousands by such a
murderous trade, and think no law yet extant ... secure enough against
such villainy.”
In addition to the possibility of Indian attacks, there was also a chance
that the colony might go to war with the neighboring Dutch province.
Such an outbreak would indeed be a calamity, as many supplies came by
way of New Amsterdam; still, as England and Holland were at war,
hostilities might easily extend to America.
Now Roger Williams and his colony were firm believers in
preparedness. Not being able to keep ammunition and liquor entirely out
of reach of the natives, they resolved upon the next best thing—to meet
the danger by having the colony ready to defend itself should occasion
arise. In such a course alone lay safety. Instead of waiting until actual
attacks were begun, it was wise to take time by the forelock and prepare
beforehand.
A beginning had already been made along this line years before.
“Train bands” were organized early in the history of the colony for
military drill, and in 1650 the towns were required by law to have their
guns in good condition and to keep a magazine of arms and ammunition.
Newport’s apportionment was the greatest of all, as she was the largest
and most flourishing of the settlements. Yet even her means of defence
was pitifully small—three barrels of powder, one thousand pounds of
lead, twelve pikes and twenty-four muskets.
Another measure of defence was now proposed—the erection of a fort
at Stampers’ Hill, in Providence. The story of the naming of this spot is
too curious to be passed by. One of the Rhode Island historians tells the
story thus:
“Soon after the settlement of Providence, a body of Indians
approached the town in a hostile manner. Some of the townsmen, by
running and stamping on this hill, induced them to believe that there was
a large number of men stationed there to oppose them, upon which they
relinquished their design and retired. From this circumstance the hill was
always called Stampers’ Hill, or more generally, the Stampers.”
A street of this name is still to be found on the map of Providence.
The same year that the fort was discussed, a consignment of powder
and shot was received by the colony from John Clarke in England. It was
placed in the hands of Roger Williams and distributed by him so that
each town received one barrel of powder and two barrels of shot each. It
was ordered by the General Assembly that money be raised to pay for it
to the sum of “ten pound in good and well-sorted strung peage
(wampum), after the rate of eight white per penny, and four black per
penny, from each town.” Clarke’s assignment was inadequate enough for
the needy colony, still it was something.
Happily, the worst of the threatened troubles did not materialize. As a
result of Roger Williams’ second letter to Massachusetts, John Endicott,
then governor, invited his old friend to Boston. Roger Williams accepted
the invitation and his trip did much to lessen friction between the two
colonies. A curious record shows that stormy little Warwick did her part
to make the president’s mission a success. She voted forty shillings out
of her treasury, provided a horse for the journey, and also a pair of
“Indian breeches” for Roger Williams’ Indian.
The Dutch war cloud failed to burst. Peace was declared between the
warring nations across the water before New Netherland and Providence
Plantations came to blows.
The fear of the Indians, too, gradually lessened. The matter of
fortifications was apparently dropped and neither during Roger
Williams’ term of office nor for many years afterwards did the
Narragansetts spoil their record by shedding the blood of their white
neighbors. We like to think that the colony’s best safeguard at this time
was its president—a better defence than firearms and forts, one that
stood for justice and harmony.
 CHAPTER XIII
THE COMING OF THE QUAKERS

In the year 1656, Boston was in a fever of excitement. Some Quakers

had come to town.
The sect had first put in an appearance in England under the teachings
of one George Fox, an earnest, conscientious preacher who, at the early
age of nineteen, had felt called upon to give up everything for religion.
How his disciples came to receive their curious name is not positively
known. One theory is that they were so-called because they were given
to excitable, nervous tremblings, but the Quakers themselves have
claimed a different origin. According to them, at one time when Mr. Fox
was arrested and sent to prison in England, he called upon those around
him to tremble at the word of the Lord. Thereupon the magistrate who
pronounced the sentence bestowed the term “Quakers” upon his
followers. In any case, it was a nickname, a term of contempt in the
seventeenth century, and did not then, as later, carry with it respect and
honor.
But why should Massachusetts be alarmed at the coming of this
people? Did she object to their habit of using “thee” and “thou” in
ordinary speech? Did she consider that, by keeping their heads covered
even in the presence of the authorities, they were lacking in proper
respect? Or was it that their refusal to take up arms even in a just war
was a dangerous doctrine? The Bay Colony doubtless disapproved of all
these things. But there were other reasons—and stronger ones—why she
frowned upon the newcomers.
First, the Quakers professed to be guided by an “inner light.”
Whatever it directed them to do, or they thought it directed them to do,
that they did, regardless of consequences. It was their sole authority,
higher even than the commands of the Massachusetts magistrates and
elders. The colony decided to put an end to such unheard-of thinking at
once. They were all the more resolved to do this because of the peculiar
actions of the Quakers. A few misguided ones, professing to be led by
this same “inner light,” did the most extravagant things in their zeal to
spread their faith. They used rude, harsh language, they went about half-
naked, were disorderly in the streets, and in other ways tried to attract
attention. One Quaker even created a disturbance in a meeting-house in
Boston. Entering with two bottles in his hands, he crashed them before
the assembled congregation, crying, “Thus will the Lord break you in
pieces!” In these frenzied disciples of Fox there was almost no
resemblance to the quiet, respectable, inoffensive Friends of to-day.
If such outbreaks had occurred in other parts of New England, the
offenders would have been punished—yes, even in the liberal colony
planted by Roger Williams. For being annoyed, Massachusetts cannot be
blamed. For resorting to the extreme measures she did in dealing with
the followers of Fox, the Bay Colony had no excuse. It is one of the dark
blots on her history.
The very year the Quakers appeared, a severe law was put into effect
against them. It provided that all ship-masters bringing Quakers into the
colony should be fined one hundred pounds and should give security to
carry them back whence they came, that all persons of this belief should
be committed to the House of Correction, first whipped and then kept
hard at work until transported. In addition, a fine of five pounds was
imposed for every Quaker book or writing found in the colony. The
penalty for defending Quaker opinions was forty shillings for the first
offence, four pounds for the second, and banishment for the third.
Calmly, unresistingly, the persecuted ones paid their fines, served their
prison terms, allowed themselves to be banished, and—kept on doing the
same things over and over again! Massachusetts did not realize in the
least that she was using the very best means of encouraging the faith that
she wished to stamp out. The Quakers wanted to be martyrs. They
gloried in suffering and abuse. The more they were downtrodden, the
more they increased and prospered.
Now we come to the part played by the little colony of Providence
Plantations in the controversy. Roger Williams was still president when
the severities of Massachusetts began. When banished from that colony,
the Quakers had to seek a new home, of course. What more convenient
or attractive refuge than that of Narragansett Bay, where liberty of
worship was not considered a crime? So they flocked thither in
increasing numbers.
Roger Williams’ great principle, upon which the colony was founded,
was now put to a severe test, the most severe it had ever known.
Hitherto, all pilgrims of whatever creed, or no creed at all, had been
made heartily welcome. But would a like invitation be extended this
strange, peculiar people, who were in disgrace everywhere else? The
answer came boldly, courageously—yes.
The United Colonies decided it was their duty to show their liberal
sister colony the error of her ways. The commissioners, therefore,
informed her that as they considered they could not be too careful in
preserving themselves from such a pest as “Quakers, ranters, and such
notorious heretics,” they would ask that all persons of the despised sect
be removed from the Colony of Providence Plantations and in the future
be prohibited from entering it.
The reply to this command was exactly what might be expected.
Roger Williams’ term of office had expired, but his spirit was still in the
air. In two letters the brave little colony placed herself on record as to the
stand she took in regard to the unpopular Quakers.
“As concerning these Quakers which are now among us,” the first
letter went on, “we have no law among us whereby to punish for only
declaring by words, etc., their minds and understandings concerning the
things and ways of God, as to salvation and an eternal condition.”
One shrewd bit of advice was also given, which the other colony
might well have heeded. Providence Plantations pointed out that if no
attention was paid the Quakers, they would quickly cease to be
troublesome.
“And we moreover find,” the writers explained, “that in those places
where these people aforesaid in this colony are most of all suffered to
declare themselves freely and are only opposed by arguments in
discourse, there they least of all desire to come, and we are informed that
they begin to loathe this place, for that they are not opposed by the civil
authority, but with all patience and meekness are suffered to say over
their pretended revelations and admonitions, nor are they like or able to
gain many here to their way; surely we find that they delight to be
persecuted by civil powers, and when they are so, they are like to gain
more adherents by the conceit of their patient sufferings than by consent
to their pernicious sayings.”
In the second letter penned by Providence Plantations, the colony
reminded the commissioners that she still prized “freedom of different
consciences as the greatest happiness that men can possess in this
world.” If the Quakers disturbed the civil peace, then, and then only,
would interference be justified. In that case, the matter would be referred
to England and the offenders be sent thither.

Statue of Roger Williams, Roger Williams Park, Providence

The United Colonies then replied, hinting that Providence Plantations

would be cut off from all trade if disobedience was persisted in. After
this threatened boycott, the colonists concluded it was wise to take some
steps for protecting themselves, but recede from their position they
would not. They therefore sent a letter to their good friend and agent in
England, John Clarke, asking that he use his influence in their behalf.
“They seem secretly to threaten us,” the letter ran, “by cutting us off
from all commerce and trade with them.... They make the prices, both of
our commodities and their own also, because we have not English coin,
but only that which passeth among these barbarians and such
commodities as are raised by the labor of our hands, as corn, cattle,
tobacco, and the like, to make payment in, which they will have at their
own rate, or else not deal with us.
“So may it please you to have an eye and care open in case our
adversaries should seek to undermine us in our privileges granted unto us
and to plead our case in such sort as we may not be compelled to exercise
any civil power over men’s consciences, so long as humane orders in
point of civility are not corrupted and violated.”
Brave, ringing words, that deserve to be written in letters of gold!
Massachusetts, meanwhile, continued in her unfortunate course,
which, happily, the other colonies did not follow so severely.
Imprisonment, fines, and banishment were followed by physical
mutilation. As a final step, profession of the Quaker faith was made a
capital offence. This law was not popular with the people at large, who
were far more tender-hearted than their magistrates. Very few received
this extreme sentence. The only woman to pay the death penalty was
Mary Dyre, wife of one of the leading citizens of Providence Plantations,
who refused to keep out of the forbidden territory.
In 1661, Charles II, then the reigning monarch of England, issued a
decree putting a stop to further persecution. Thus closed the five dreadful
years of Quaker punishment in New England.
The Quakers, let alone, became useful and respected citizens and
contributed a large share toward the well-being of the communities in
which they lived. In the colony of Providence Plantations, they steadily
gained followers and for over one hundred years took an active part in
public affairs. They occupied positions of prominence and influence,
especially in Newport. For five years, beginning 1672, Rhode Island had
a succession of Quaker governors.
The noble part played by the colony in the dark days of Quaker history
was due, in large part, to the teachings of Roger Williams. The stand
taken by him and his fellow colonists deserves all the more credit
because, personally, they disliked and disapproved of the Quakers. How
easy, then, it would have been to inflict punishment upon them and to
have found a perfectly good excuse for so doing!
Roger Williams wrote John Winthrop, Jr., his Connecticut
correspondent, that he rejoiced the latter’s name was not blurred but
rather honored, for his prudent and moderate hand in the Quaker trials.
For a moment we must skip a few years to the date 1672, which brings
us to the last chapter of Quaker history which has to do with Roger
Williams. In view of that part of the story that has gone before, the
admirers of the great man are a bit sorry that this chapter ever had to be
written. It happened when George Fox, the noted leader of the Quakers,
visited the colony. Roger Williams promptly challenged him to a debate,
religious discussions of this kind being very common in that day. Failing
to make arrangements to carry out this plan, he debated with three of
Fox’s most capable disciples instead. They argued three days in Newport
and one day in Providence. In order to reach the first debating-place,
Roger Williams rowed all the way from Providence to Newport, a
distance of thirty miles. It was an all day’s work—no small task for a
man about seventy years of age.
The meeting was a heated one. Nearly every one lost his temper and
even Roger Williams was unlike his usual kindly, charitable self.
Nobody’s opinion was changed and both sides claimed the victory. Each
published a book presenting long, dry, uninteresting arguments. That of
Roger Williams was entitled “George Fox digged out of his Burrows,”
while the Quaker volume was called “A New England Firebrand
Quenched.”
Whatever may be thought about Roger Williams’ part in these
proceedings, he himself thought he was doing the colony a service by
arguing the matter in public. It was probably his purpose to show that the
community did not approve of disorder and disrespect of the authorities.
He maintained that it was not persecution to punish moderately for such
disrespect and grotesque offences as had marked the advent of the
Friends in Massachusetts.
In spite of his views concerning the early Quakers, Roger Williams
numbered among his friends many of this faith. He never allowed his
prejudices to govern him in his dealings with them. Best of all—and to
his lasting glory be it said—he never lifted a finger against them, and no
page of the history of the colony he founded is stained with Quaker
blood.
 CHAPTER XIV
ROGER WILLIAMS AS CITIZEN

Through all the ups and downs of her troubled history, Providence
Plantations had remained loyal to England. The little colony had allowed
unusual liberty in many ways—liberty unknown in other parts of New
England—but had never faltered in her obedience to the mother country.
Thus when Oliver Cromwell was at the head of affairs, she considered
him her rightful ruler. A like loyalty was paid his son Richard. Again,
when the country once more became a monarchy, in 1660, she hastened
to assure Charles II that the inhabitants of the Narragansett Bay province
were his true and faithful subjects.
The news of his accession to the throne was received with great
enthusiasm. The General Court appointed an hour for proclaiming “His
Royal Majesty, King Charles the Second, King of England, with all the
dominions and territories thereunto belonging” and military officers were
ordered to rally the “train band” for the occasion. Besides this, another
special day was set apart for solemnizing the event, which was also
carried out in true military fashion. All children and servants were given
a holiday. The flowery and submissive language with which Charles was
acknowledged monarch must sound curious enough to the democratic
descendants of these same colonists.
In the midst of all the joyful festivities, one concern filled the minds of
everybody. Their right to continued existence must be confirmed. It was
clear that Cromwell’s approval was out of date. It would have no weight
with the restored Stuart sovereign. A second charter must be obtained,
one that would bear the undeniable stamp of royal authority. Thereupon
Providence Plantations sent word to her faithful agent, John Clarke,
asking him to secure the desired charter. By this time the patient man
must have been prepared for any kind of request from over the sea.
His success was announced in the year 1663. It would seem that
charters were going up in price. According to Roger Williams’
testimony, this second one meant an outlay of about a thousand pounds.
It was cheap at that, considering the great privileges it carried with it.
Under this precious new document, the colony continued to live for one
hundred and eighty years, long after the close of Roger Williams’ life.
When finally abandoned, it was the oldest constitutional charter in the
world.
A “very great meeting of the freemen” of the colony was held to
receive the royal paper with due respect and honor. With appropriate
ceremony, Captain George Baxter, the bearer, opened the box in which it
was kept and read the gracious words of Charles to the assembly, after
which the charter was “held up on high and presented to the perfect view
of the people,” then safely locked up in the box again.
By virtue of this latest document, the colony received a new name—
or, rather, a bulky addition to its old one. In this charter it was called
“The English Colony of Rhode Island and Providence Plantations, in
New England, in America.” From now on, the name “Rhode Island”
became more prominent and “Providence Plantations” less so until, in
common usage, it was dropped altogether. In 1776, the word “State” was
substituted for “English Colony.”
Besides a change of name, the charter also provided that henceforth
governors should take the place of presidents and the first governor and
his assistants were named. Roger Williams was one of the latter and he
repeatedly held this office in the years following.
The most wonderful part of the whole charter was that section
granting perfect liberty of conscience to the colony. It was all the more
remarkable and surprising, as King Charles was not noted for either
tolerance or liberality.
“Our royal will and pleasure is that no person within the said colony
any time hereafter, shall be any wise molested, punished, disquieted, or
called in question, for any differences in opinion in matters of religion,
and do not actually disturb the civil peace of our said colony; but that all
and every person and persons may, from time to time, and at all times
hereafter, freely and fully have and enjoy his and their own judgments
and consciences, in matters of religious concernments, throughout the
tract of land hereafter mentioned.”
The words might have been penned by Roger Williams himself. Very
likely they never would have been written had it not been for his
persistent struggle for that same liberty of conscience, about which he
said, “We must part with lands and lives before we part with such a
jewel.”
 The founder of Rhode Island and Providence Plantations was now
approaching the evening of life. He had carefully watched and tended the
infant colony so that it could stand alone. He had raised it to a position of
respect and importance. For his unselfish and loving labors, he surely
deserved a brief period of rest. Yet, contrary to his wishes, he was drawn
into public life again. He wrote his friend Winthrop these reluctant
words: “I have since been occasioned and drawn (being nominated in the
charter to appear again upon the deck) from my beloved privacy; my
humble desires are to contribute my poor mite (as I have ever, and I hope
ever shall) to preserve plantation and public interest of the whole New
England and not interest of this or that town, colony, opinion, etc.”
From this time on, both in and out of office, Roger Williams showed
what an immense amount of good can be accomplished by a public-
spirited citizen if he is willing to sacrifice selfish aims for the benefit of
all. Time and again there was occasion for him to act as peace-maker, as
in the years gone by. Gentleness, tact, and forbearance were the means
he used. In a word, he was a great diplomat. Because his victories were
bloodless ones, his fellow-citizens did not appreciate his greatness.
For one thing, Roger Williams was chosen to copy the charter into the
records of the colony. For drawing up colonial documents of various
kinds, his skill was constantly in demand. In 1664, when a revision of the
laws was thought necessary, he was appointed member of a committee to
attend to this business. In the same year he was named one of the agents
to determine an eastern boundary line between the colony and Plymouth.
Indian troubles were never settled without his intervention. Here he
knew his ground perfectly and could be trusted by all parties concerned
to give just decisions. The Indians of Warwick, as we have seen, caused
endless trouble for the colonists, claiming that as they had pledged
allegiance to Massachusetts, Providence Plantations had no right to
punish them for lawless acts. Now the sachem Pumham, who occupied
Warwick Neck, had no legal right to the land, as his superior sachem had
sold it years before. Again and again he stubbornly refused to budge an
inch, though the town of Warwick had paid him twenty pounds to seek a
home elsewhere.
About this time, four commissioners were sent over to New England
by King Charles for the purpose of hearing complaints, settling boundary
disputes and like claims, and establishing the peace and security of the
country. They now applied themselves to the task of ousting the mulish
Indian chief.
Before long Roger Williams took a hand in the matter. He got in touch
with Sir Robert Carr, one of the royal agents, and calmly and clearly
reviewed for him the entire history of the quarrel. Then, instead of urging
force and harshness, he explained that very different means must be
employed with the natives. He likened them to oxen, who, if treated with
cruelty, will die rather than yield, but with patience and gentleness, can
be made to give good and willing service. “Lay all the blame on me,” he
concluded, “and on my intercession and mediation, for a little further
breathing to the barbarians until harvest, in which time a peaceable and
loving agreement may be wrought, to mutual consent and satisfaction.”
Roger Williams was a wise prophet. The sensible commissioner took
advantage of his co-operation and finally the matter was closed to
everybody’s satisfaction. And this without a drop of blood being shed,
thanks to the man who believed that even erring natives should be treated
as human beings. “I respect not one party more than the other,” he once
said in a similar quarrel, “but I desire to witness truth; and as I desire to
witness against oppression, so, also, against the slighting of civil, yea, of
barbarous order and government.”
We are glad to know that the commissioners of King Charles handed
their royal master a very favorable report of the Rhode Island colony.
They even had a good word for the Narragansett Indians. The natives
had pledged their allegiance to the king and, in token of their subjection,
promised to pay His Majesty two wolfskins a year. They also sent
Charles some truly barbarous tokens of affection, including two
wampum caps, two clubs inlaid with wampum, and a feather mantle,
besides a porcupine bag for the queen. It is a pity these gifts fell into the
hands of the Dutch and never reached their destination. What a sensation
they would have made at court among the nobles and ladies-in-waiting!
But the giving was not all on one side. Two coats were presented the
sachems in the king’s name, with which they were greatly pleased. It
would not be surprising if Roger Williams had made the suggestion,
knowing the Indian weakness in matters of dress.
An opportunity came for Roger Williams to use his influence in behalf
of John Clarke, the good friend of the colony who had labored in her
interests in the mother country for twelve long years. It had been voted to
pay him for his trouble, but due either to poverty or unwillingness
(probably both), the required amount had not been forthcoming. So the
matter dragged on, long after the charter affair was settled and the agent
had returned to America. Even back in London days, Mr. Clarke was so
short of funds that he had been obliged to mortgage his Newport home.
Stung to the quick by what he considered rank ingratitude, Roger
Williams wrote a sharp letter to Warwick, the most backward town.
“It is no more honest,” he wrote, “for us to withdraw in this case than
for men to come to an ordinary [tavern] and to call for the best wine and
liquors, the best meats, roast and baked, the best attendance, etc., and to
be able to pay for all and yet most unworthily steal away and not
discharge the reckoning.” Then changing his figure of speech, he
continued:
“Shall we say we are Christians ... to ride securely in a troublous sea
and time by a new cable and anchor of Mr. Clarke’s procuring, and be so
far from satisfying his engagement about them, that we turn him adrift to
languish and sink, with his back broke for putting under his shoulder to
ease us?”
The letter quickened the colony to further action. The mortgaged
home was saved, but, unfortunately, the debt was never paid in full.
There were boundary disputes during these years, both among the
colonists themselves and with outsiders. In Providence, troubles arose
from the Indian grants made so many years before. Mr. Harris, Roger
Williams’ old enemy, and others interpreted the language of the Indian
deed to mean that Canonicus and Miantonomo had really given away
several hundred thousand acres of land that had never been taken
possession of by the colonists. To-day, if a pretended claim of a similar
nature should come up, we would very likely call it a case of clear
“graft.” Roger Williams, ever on the defensive when the Indians were
concerned, declared stoutly that the chiefs had meant nothing of the kind.
And, indeed, what man was better informed on this subject than Roger
Williams himself? Had he not dealt directly with the Narragansett
sachems? Had he not talked with them in their own tongue? He so
persistently blocked and delayed every measure to appropriate the
territory in question that the matter was never carried to a successful
finish. Still the short-sighted grumblers called his whole-hearted interest
“meddling.” With saddened heart, he recorded their taunts:
“But some cried out, when Roger Williams had laid himself down as a
stone in the dust, for after-comers to step on in town and colony, ‘What
is Roger Williams? We know the Indians and the sachems as well as he.
We will trust Roger Williams no longer. We will have our bounds
confirmed us under the sachems’ hands before us.’”
The details of the other boundary quarrels make dry, difficult reading
in these days. They are interesting only as they bring out the character of
Roger Williams and the part he played in trying to adjust them. The
disputed land was principally the Narragansett country, or the southern
half of the present state of Rhode Island. Massachusetts claimed territory
here, so did Plymouth, and, added to their encroachments, were those of
Connecticut. If the land had been divided up as they all wished, little
enough would have been left of tiny Rhode Island to form a respectable
state afterwards!
Roger Williams saw in this desire to annex territory a prevailing greed
for land, which he looked upon as one of the greatest failings of New
England. He could not understand how his countrymen of the other
colonies “should not be content with those vast and large tracts (like
platters and tables full of dainties), but pull and snatch away their poor
neighbors’ bit or crust”; adding, “and a crust it is, and a dry, hard one,
too, because of the natives’ continual troubles, trials and vexations.”
To Major Mason of Connecticut he wrote a letter (which has since
become famous) upholding the rights of Rhode Island. That prominent
man afterwards advised his colony that he hardly thought it wise to
attempt to acquire the land in question. Thus we infer that Roger
Williams’ diplomacy did much to avert further aggression on the
Connecticut side at least.
Not all Roger Williams’ tasks were big ones. He was not the man to
say that because he was capable of great things, he would let the little
things slip by. He performed numberless neighborly services of a legal
character, either as witness or executor. It fell upon him to take charge of
the house and lot of a certain John Clawson, a Dutchman, whom he had
befriended when needy and employed as a household servant. He had
taught him to read and given him a Dutch Testament. It is amusing to
think that this Providence real estate was valued at eleven pounds. More
amusing still were the terms of its disposal. Roger Williams sold it for
“current country pay” in three yearly instalments of cloth, stockings,
corn and apples. Even on these easy terms, the buyer took about double
the time for payment that the agreement allowed.
 Public spirit was sometimes at a low ebb in early Providence. Thus
there was no end of trouble trying to erect a suitable bridge near the
center of the town and keeping it in proper repair. The townspeople
argued, deliberated, debated, but nobody seemed aggressive enough to
push the work. Finally Roger Williams stepped into the breach. “I will,
with God’s help, take this bridge unto my care.” What a relief it must
have been to realize that somebody had taken the initiative at last! He
made Providence a business-like proposition, whereby the citizens were
to donate their labor, the amount being apportioned to the use they would
make of the bridge and whether they had a team or not. This sharing of
work was only fair, for the inhabitants of the town were to be exempt
from toll, a moderate sum being asked of strangers only.
There was nothing striking, nothing impressive, about these public
services of Roger Williams and they did not win the applause of the
crowd. Sometimes they gained for him nothing but unpopularity. Yet at
no other period in his long career do we get a finer idea of the real
nobility of the man than in these latter years when old age was coming
on and his word was perhaps not listened to with the respect of former
days. He cheerfully took up and faithfully performed the local duties that
came his way, though he had been recognized by Parliament, had been
on an intimate footing with the greatest statesmen of England, and was
himself one of the wisest, most far-sighted men of his age. This was
citizenship at its best.
 CHAPTER XV
KING PHILIP’S WAR

It is not easy to tell the true cause of King Philip’s War. There were
probably many causes, some of them dating years back. Such a struggle
was bound to come, sooner or later, to determine who should remain
masters of New England—the first comers or the white men from over
the sea. More than once Roger Williams had postponed the evil day, but
even his influence was not great enough to prevent the smouldering fires
of jealousy, distrust and revenge from finally bursting into a destructive
conflagration.
Back in 1620, when the Pilgrims landed in Plymouth, they had formed
a treaty of peace with Massasoit, chief of the Wampanoags. This faithful
Indian sachem kept his word during the remaining years of his life.
The colonists were not so fortunate in their dealings with his son and
successor, Wamsutta or Alexander. Word was sent to the governor that he
plotted mischief against the English and had asked the Narragansetts to
aid him in his rebellion. Determining to put an end to such disloyalty at
once, the governor, after Alexander’s refusal to attend court, had him
arrested and taken to Plymouth. It was a most unfortunate business, thus
to humiliate a proud chief on his own territory. Suddenly Alexander
became violently ill and died almost immediately. The exact cause of his
death is not known, but probably extreme heat and anger hastened the
end. Bad feeling between the Indians and their white neighbors was the
immediate result of this misfortune. Some of Alexander’s followers,
including his wife, even spread the report that the sachem had been
poisoned. This was untrue, but it furnished one of the causes of the
hostilities that followed.
Metacomet or Philip, Alexander’s brother and the next chief of the
Wampanoags, was not one to submit to wrongs tamely. Plymouth and
Massachusetts soon had occasion to suspect him of secretly planning
war. In their uneasiness, they appealed to Roger Williams and he
succeeded, for the time being, in breaking up Philip’s designs. Largely
through his influence, the war was put off for four years. Outwardly
obedient, the Wampanoag chief gave up about seventy guns to the
English as proof of his fidelity. There is no reason to think, however, that
he abandoned the idea of a war when the time should be ripe. For several
years he merely “marked time” until everything should be in readiness.
The struggle was finally begun in the summer of 1675, sooner than
Philip had meant. One of his nearest advisers, a converted Indian,
betrayed his chief’s plot to the English. It was therefore necessary to
strike at once. To be just to King Philip, he doubtless thought he had
good and sufficient reason for his action. He summed up the causes of
the conflict thus:
“By various means they [the English] got possession of a great part of
his [Massasoit’s] territory. But he still remained their friend till he died.
My elder brother became sachem. They pretended to suspect him of evil
designs against them. He was seized and confined, thereby thrown into
sickness and died. Soon after I became sachem, they disarmed all my
people. They tried my people by their own laws; assessed damages
against them, which they could not pay. Their land was taken. At length
a line of division was agreed upon between the English and my people,
and I myself was to be answerable. Sometimes the cattle of the English
would come into the cornfields of my people, as they did not make
fences like the English. I must then be seized and confined, till I sold
another tract of my country for satisfaction of all damages and costs.
Thus, tract after tract is gone. But a small part of the dominions of my
ancestors remains. I am determined not to live till I have no country.”
There was grave danger of a Narragansett alliance. Philip had been
working for it for a long time. The chief sachems of the Rhode Island
Indians at this time were Pessicus, Miantonomo’s brother, and
Canonchet, Miantonomo’s son, and therefore nephew of Pessicus. They
were joint rulers, much like Canonicus and Miantonomo in the earlier
days. But, whereas Canonicus and Miantonomo had been in favor of
peace at almost any price, their descendants were not so submissive. A
far different spirit fired them. Pessicus, it is true, gave Roger Williams to
understand that he was peaceable enough, but had difficulty restraining
the younger men of his tribe. Canonchet, on the other hand (the “hopeful
spark” of Miantonomo, as Roger Williams called him), was openly
declared the war sachem of the Narragansetts. The cruel death of his
father still rankled and he would have been less than human had he not
longed to make the most of the opportunity for revenge that now came to
him without his seeking.
 The colony of Rhode Island strongly opposed the war. The inhabitants
had no just quarrel with the Indians. Besides, they were under Quaker
influence and people of this faith did not believe in taking up arms.
Five Rhode Island citizens, probably Friends, bent on a peaceful
settlement of the dispute, arranged for a meeting with Philip. The story
of their conference is quaintly told by Mr. John Easton, the deputy
governor of the colony and the head of the party:
“We sat very friendly together. We told him [Philip] our business was
to endeavor that they might not ... do wrong. They said that was well;
they had done no wrong, the English wronged them. We said we knew
the English said the Indians wronged them, and the Indians said the
English wronged them, but our desire was the quarrel might rightly be
decided, in the best way, and not as dogs decided their quarrels. The
Indians owned that fighting was the worst way: then they propounded
how right might take place.”
It was unfortunate for the warring colonists, and the Indians as well,
that nothing came of this attempt at arbitration. There was one hope left
—Roger Williams. The Boston authorities sent three men to Rhode
Island with the earnest request that he try to bring the Narragansetts to
terms. He answered the call with his usual prompt willingness. Within
half an hour, he had left Providence and was on his way, with the three
messengers, to the Narragansett country. He had no trouble in securing
an audience with Canonchet, Pessicus and other leading Narragansetts.
They greeted him with fair, smooth words—altogether too fair and
smooth to be sincere. They agreed to hand over any of Philip’s men who
fell into their hands, to remain hostile to the Wampanoag sachem, to
deliver up all stolen goods to the English, to refrain from further theft,
and to serve as a guard about the Narragansett country for the protection
of the English.
Poor Roger Williams! Devotedly, unceasingly he worked until, as he
said, his old bones and eyes were weary with travel and writing. So
constantly was his pen in use that his stock of letter paper completely
gave out. Writing to the governor of Massachusetts, he said, “Since I am
oft occasioned to write upon the public business, I shall be thankful for a
little paper upon the public account, being now near destitute.”
And all the time he could not help but “suspect that all the fine words
from the Indian sachems to us were but words of policy, falsehood and
treachery.” His fears were well grounded. No sooner had the
Massachusetts men started on their homeward journey than one hundred
armed Narragansetts appeared in Warwick and terrified the town.
Warning was received, too, from Pessicus that the English in the
Narragansett country would do well to be on their guard and to keep
strict watch. If they could strongly fortify one or two houses, so much
the better; if not, then flight was their only course.
It was plain that the Narragansetts could be held in leash no longer.
The call of their Indian allies—blood of their blood—completely
drowned out the gentle voice of Roger Williams. The prayer of
Canonicus—yes, and of Massasoit, too—that their children after them
might live in love and peace with the English forever was not to be
realized. Sadly the best friend the Narragansetts ever had was forced to
confess that the tribe must be subdued as wolves who have attacked
sheep.
Meanwhile, the settlement of Swansea, near the boundary line
between Rhode Island and Plymouth, had been ravaged by Philip’s men
and several persons killed and wounded. The war then spread with
lightning rapidity through the different towns of Massachusetts.
Connecticut, too, was invaded, for the Indians of the Connecticut River
had thrown themselves into the struggle. Rhode Island as a colony kept
out of the war, but she was not allowed to remain untouched. The
Narragansett country became, in turn, a battle-ground in the winter of
1675.
The Narragansetts were accused by the English of having sheltered
Philip’s people, and, as some of the young braves now and then returned
to their homes wounded, it was considered proof that they had, too, been
on the war-path. Massachusetts, Plymouth and Connecticut decided to
break the power of the Narragansetts before they could join Philip in the
spring. They therefore raised a strong force of over a thousand men and,
strengthened by Rhode Island volunteers, marched to a point in the
neighborhood of what is now South Kingston.
The Indians had stoutly intrenched themselves in a fort in the midst of
a treacherous swamp. Here, on a bleak, freezing December day, a
desperate battle, commonly known as the “Great Swamp Fight,” was
fought to a bitter end. It was the dreadful massacre of Fort Mystic all
over again. As in the Pequot War of forty years before, the attacking
party forced an entrance into the fort and completed their work of
destruction by fire. Exposure and cold, added to the flames, reduced the
Indians quickly. They sacrificed several hundred—either slain outright or
taken prisoners—but the English also suffered severe losses.
Though the spirit of the Narragansetts was broken, the people of the
mainland towns were greatly alarmed. The General Assembly, meeting
at Newport in the spring of 1676, urged them to give up their homes and
take refuge on the Island of Rhode Island. Newport and Portsmouth
generously offered land for planting and even proclaimed that the new-
comers, “so wanting a liberty, shall have a cow kept upon the commons.”
Many families accepted the invitation with haste and thankfulness. The
protected stretch of land in Narragansett Bay became a perfect isle of
refuge. The entire town of Warwick moved thither and remained until the
war was over. It was the safest thing that could be done, for shortly
afterwards, the settlement was practically burned to the ground. Only one
dwelling remained standing.
Many Providence people emigrated also, including Mrs. Williams. Of
the five hundred inhabitants, less than thirty remained behind. Prominent
in the list of those “who stayed and went not away,” is the name of Roger
Williams. He did not know the meaning of fear and preferred to defend
his city rather than join the fugitives on the island. He had not been able
to turn aside the savage tide of fury and hate, but at least he could stem it
as far as possible. Though over seventy years old, he accepted a
commission as captain and faithfully drilled the few defenders under his
command. In addition, he started a subscription list to pay for fortifying a
house and building a second defence and himself pledged the largest sum
of all—ten pounds. And he was far from being a rich man, too.
On March 29, 1676, the city was attacked by the Indians and twenty-
nine dwellings burned. The following tradition shows that even at this
late hour Roger Williams attempted to change the will of the savages.
Leaning on his staff, he went to the heights at the north of the town to
meet them and reason with them as he had done so many times in the
past.
“Massachusetts,” said he, “can raise thousands of men at this moment,
and if you kill them, the King of England will supply their places as fast
as they fall.”
“Well,” answered one of the chieftains, “let them come. We are ready
for them. But as for you, Brother Williams, you are a good man. You
have been kind to us many years. Not a hair of your head shall be
touched.”
Quaker Rhode Island at last woke up and paid some attention to the
question of defence. It was all very well to hold theories about the
wickedness of war, but these ideas did not insure safety for one’s family
or keep the natives at bay. The colony records show that closely
following the attack upon Providence, a boat patrol was organized, a
garrison provided, and ammunition ordered. Care was taken that the
duties of the commander in charge should not interfere with “Captain
Williams’ power in the exercise of the train band.”
Canonchet was captured in April. He was surprised by some
Connecticut men and friendly Indian allies, and, in attempting to escape
by wading a river, slipped and fell an easy prey to a waiting Pequot on
the opposite bank. He was taken captive to Connecticut. As his father
Miantonomo had lost his life at the hands of Uncas, so now the son owed
his death to Uncas’ son. In many ways the earlier tragedy was enacted
over again. Canonchet showed the same disdainful pride that
Miantonomo had displayed. In answer to an Englishman who questioned
him, he replied scornfully, “You much child! No understand matters of
war! Let your brother or chief come. Him I will answer!” Being told that
he must die, he said calmly, “I like it well; I shall die before my heart is
soft, or I have said anything unworthy of myself.”
The tide had turned. It needed now but a final struggle to convince the
natives they were fighting against hopeless odds. Philip’s wife and son
were taken captive in the summer. Soon afterwards, a decisive battle
took place near Mount Hope on August 12th. Philip, betrayed by one of
his men, was killed. This ended the war.
The citizens of Providence came back to their partly burned town and
took up their daily duties once more, but with a greater sense of security.
Providence, son of Roger Williams, took his mother home from Newport
in a sloop that belonged to him.
The Wampanoags were nearly exterminated, while scarcely a hundred
Narragansetts survived. Captives were sold into slavery, either at home
or abroad. With this fate in store, Philip’s young son of nine years was
shipped to Bermuda.
The buying and selling of Indians was allowed even within the borders
of liberal Rhode Island. The people of that day were not so enlightened
as their descendants of a later age and saw no wrong in such a
proceeding. Then, too, they doubtless looked upon the subjection of the
red men as a means of safety. Yet this colony was far more humane than
her neighbors. The inhabitants passed a law prohibiting Indian slavery
for life and those unfortunate warriors who were held as bondmen served
a limited term of years only.
 CHAPTER XVI
BACK TO THE SHADOWS

After King Philip’s War, Roger Williams, now an old man, gradually
disappeared from public view. Only now and then do we obtain fleeting
glimpses of these last years. We know that at one time he was elected
assistant, but declined to serve. This by no means meant that his interest
in the colony had ceased, but rather that the burden of years and physical
ills had reduced his strength and endurance. He still followed closely the
course of events and whenever a word from him could further the cause
of right, his voice was heard with all its old-time vigor.
One of the last acts of his life was to write an earnest letter to the town
of Providence upholding the just levying of taxes. Clearly, logically, he
explained to the inhabitants the necessity of supporting government and
order, as they tended to the peace and good of mankind. He also
reminded them how fortunate they were to live under such a charter as
they possessed, for, said he, “Our charter excels all in New England, or
in the world, as to the souls of men.”
Again, when the people of Providence proposed to divide certain
common lands among themselves, he pleaded that they be left untouched
for the use of future new-comers who might have to flee from
persecution. To the very last, soul liberty was dear to his heart.
“I have only one motion and petition,” were his stirring words, “which
I earnestly pray the town to lay to heart, as ever they look for a blessing
from God on the town, on your families, your corn and cattle, and your
children after you, it is this, that after you have got over the black brook
of soul bondage yourselves, you tear not down the bridge after you, by
leaving no small pittance for distressed souls that may come after you.”
Both before and after the war, he spent considerable time preaching to
the English dwellers in the Narragansett country and it is very probable
that he had Indian congregations also. Once a month, for many years, he
journeyed back and forth, between his own home at Providence and Mr.
Smith’s at Narragansett, for this purpose. It is remarkable that a man of
his advanced age, handicapped by lameness and illness, could have
carried on such a work as long as he did.
 When he was finally forced to give up active life, he then turned to
profitable occupation indoors. He valued time and made the most of it.
“One grain of its inestimable sand,” he once said, “is worth a golden
mountain.” After such a long life of faithful service, he could have been
excused had he chosen to sit still in the twilight of his life with folded
hands. Instead, by the home fireside he put together the sermons he had
preached with an idea of having them published. He never saw them in
print. The fact that he had to apply to those of his friends in his own
colony, Massachusetts, Connecticut and Plymouth “who hath a shilling
and a heart to countenance such a work” to meet the expenses of
publication, shows that he must have been poor at this time. The written
pages numbered but thirty and the cost of their printing could not have
been an exorbitant sum.
There is every reason to think, in fact, that Roger Williams and his
wife were partly dependent upon their son Daniel toward the close of
their lives. And he cared for them with true filial devotion, too. “I
judge,” he said in the quaint language of that age, “they wanted nothing
that was convenient for ancient people.” Instead of saving for the
proverbial rainy day, the open-hearted founder of Rhode Island had
generously disposed of the best of his worldly possessions for the good
of others. Give, give, give! It had been the motto of his life. Said this
same son, “He gave away his lands and other estate to them that he
thought were most in want, until he gave away all, so that he had nothing
to help himself.... If a covetous man had that opportunity as he had, most
of this town would have been his tenants, I believe.”
The humble home in which Roger Williams spent his Providence days
was very likely much like that of his neighbors. They were truly
primitive dwellings—those early houses—usually consisting of a single
large room down stairs, one end of which was taken up by a generous
stone chimney, and a half-story loft above, reached by a steep, ladder-
like flight of stairs. As family needs increased, a “lean-to” was added to
the main structure. Even so, there must have been scarcity of elbow room
in those days of sizable families and free hospitality.
Neither the exact day nor month of Roger Williams’ death is known.
Like the date of his birth, it remains a mystery. The nearest we can come
to it is that it must have been some time between January 16th and May
10th, 1683. No reliable record has ever been found, and the only facts
that have come down to us regarding the close of this noble, self-
sacrificing life consist of two mere fragments of information. The one, a
brief extract from a letter written by one John Thornton from Providence
to his friend, Samuel Hubbard, at Newport, the other, a line from a
Colonial historian, are as follows:
“The Lord hath arrested by death our ancient and approved friend, Mr.
Roger Williams.”
“He was buried with all the solemnity the colony was able to show.”
Out of the shadows he came, back to the shadows he returned. The
death of the Apostle of Soul Liberty was nothing more than the slightest
ripple on the surface of the life of the community. The people with whom
Roger Williams lived had no conception of his real greatness. It
remained for a later age to appreciate him and his work.
Yet there is an interesting tradition which would seem to show that
nature at least did her best to save him from oblivion. He was buried in
the family plot at the rear of his dwelling on the slope of the hill which
led up from the bubbling spring where he first landed. When, in the rapid
growth of the city, it became necessary to remove the graves of the early
settlers, there was found in Roger Williams’ last resting-place only the
spreading root of an apple tree which, in the passing years, had taken on
a curious resemblance to the human form.
The personal belongings of Roger Williams at the close of his life
must have been few and, for the most part, of no great value. Still at least
two priceless relics may be seen to-day which have survived the wear
and tear of time. One of these—a pocket-compass—he used to “steer his
course” on that momentous journey from unfriendly Massachusetts Bay
to the shores of Narragansett. At the base of the instrument are the usual
pivoted needle and points of the compass. There is a sun-dial above, the
shadows being thrown upon hours cut in the brass rim around the edge of
the case. The compass was mentioned in an inventory made by
Providence Williams in 1686. It became a treasured family heirloom in
the years that followed until it found a permanent home in the rooms of
the Rhode Island Historical Society.
What thrilling stories the little compass might tell if it could only
speak—of New England woods bowed down with their mantle of snow
through which the weary traveler plodded his way, of days and days
when the wintry sun made no record upon the sun-dial face, of lurking
savages whose suspicion was changed to glad greeting once they
recognized the fugitive, of welcome wigwams where the fare was crude
but hospitably offered.

Roger Williams’ pocket-compass and sun-dial with cover. This

photograph was taken at the rooms of the Rhode Island Historical
Society.

Roger Williams’ watch. It is now kept at Fraunces Tavern, New

York City, but is the personal property of Mr. Henry Russell
Drowne, whose family received it from a lineal descendant of Roger
Williams.
 The other Roger Williams relic is an odd, old-fashioned silver watch,
with works of Dutch, and case of French, manufacture. It is heavy and
cumbrous, measuring an inch and a half in thickness, with rock crystal in
place of glass. The carved silver face has hands of gold and the day of
the month, which changes every twenty-four hours. The exterior case
(for it is a double-case watch) represents the familiar scene from the
“Iliad,” where Hector takes an affectionate farewell of Andromache and
their small son Astyanax:
“Thus having spoke, the illustrious chief of Troy
Stretched his fond arms to clasp the lovely boy.
The babe clung crying to his nurse’s breast,
Scared at the dazzling helm and nodding crest.
With secret pleasure each fond parent smiled,
And Hector hasted to relieve his child,
The glittering terrors from his brows unbound,
And placed the beaming helmet on the ground.”
It is believed that Roger Williams’ wife and children survived him, but
incidents of Mrs. Williams’ life are tantalizingly meagre. There were six
children—the oldest daughter Mary, born in Plymouth, Freeborn, born in
Salem, Providence, the first male child in the new colony, a third
daughter Mercy, and two other sons, Daniel and Joseph.
Of the oldest child Mary—the little maid of Plymouth and the first
who came to gladden her mother’s and father’s heart—almost nothing is
known.
Fortunately, Freeborn’s history is less mysterious. She married a
young shipmaster by the name of Hart and made her home in Newport
with her four children. After her husband’s death, she had the courage to
marry Walter Clarke, who had been twice a widower and was the father
of seven children.
Providence, a shop-keeper and shipmaster of Newport, never married.
Mercy Williams became the wife of Resolved Waterman and the
mother of five children. She was married a second time to Samuel
Winsor. Their son Samuel became minister of the Baptist Church in
Providence. In one point he agreed heartily with his grandfather Roger—
that ministers should receive no pay for their services. With something of
his kinsman’s spirit, he refused invitations to Sunday dinners “for fear
they should be considerations for Sunday sermons.”
 Daniel Williams married Rebecca Power, a widow whose husband had
been killed in the “Great Swamp Fight.” It fell to Roger Williams’ lot to
record the marriage, for he was then town clerk. He described it as “the
first marriage since God mercifully restored the town of Providence.”
Daniel’s children numbered five sons.
Joseph Williams, the youngest child, married Lydia Olney, who
survived him only three weeks. They had three sons. In Roger Williams
Park, Providence, may be seen the old family burial plot of Joseph
Williams and his descendants, containing weather-beaten stones bearing
old-fashioned inscriptions. That of the head of the family is quaint
enough to be given a place here:
“In King Philip’s War he courageously went through,
And the native Indians he bravely did subdue;
And now he’s gone down to the grave and he will be no more,
Until it please Almighty God his body to restore
Into some proper shape as he thinks fit to be,
Perhaps like a grain of wheat, as Paul sets forth, you see.”
In all probability Joseph Williams did his duty during the terrible
Indian scourge, yet we prefer to dwell upon those earlier, pleasanter days
when the friendship of the red man had not turned to distrust and hatred.
Roger Williams Park recalls that period, for it was formerly the
woodland and fields given by Canonicus and Miantonomo to the white
neighbor and friend they always loved and respected. In time it became
the possession of Miss Betsy Williams, who bequeathed it to the city in
memory of her famous and well-beloved ancestor. The hundred acres
have since been beautified and added to until to-day the picturesque
stretch of park-land is one of the most attractive in the United States—a
fitting and beautiful memorial to the great man whose name it bears.
Miss Williams attached one condition to her gift—that a statue of
Roger Williams should be erected by Providence. The condition was met
and to Mr. Franklin Simmons of Rome was entrusted the important but
difficult task of trying to express in granite and bronze something of the
nobility of one of the greatest of Americans.
Roger Williams has also been awarded a niche in the “Hall of Fame
for Great Americans” at New York University. He is one of an illustrious
company of wonderful characters who have made America—and the
world—better for their having lived.