Mr. Coddington became involved in the Anne Hutchinson controversy, as did Wheelwright, the founder of Exeter. Mrs. Hutchinson was banished, and took refuge with Coddington and others on Rhode Island. In the presence of Governor Winthrop and of Dudley, his deputy; of the a.s.sistants, among whom were Endicott, Bradstreet, and Stoughton; confronted by the foremost and hardest-sh.e.l.led ministers in the colony, such as Hugh Peters, Eliot, and Wilson, this woman defended herself, almost single-handed and with consummate address, against a court which had already prejudged her case, and which stubbornly refused, until the very last stage of the proceedings, to put the witnesses upon oath. As a specimen of the way in which justice was administered in the early day, and of judicial procedure, this trial is exceedingly curious.[260] Here is a specimen of brow-beating that recalls "Oliver Twist:"

_Deputy-governor._ "Let her witnesses be called."

_Governor._ "Who be they?"

_Mrs. Hutchinson._ "Mr. Leveret, and our teacher, and Mr. Coggeshall."

_Governor._ "Mr. Coggeshall was not present."

_Mr. Coggeshall._ "Yes, but I was, only I desired to be silent until I was called."

_Governor._ "Will you, Mr. Coggeshall, say that she did not say so?"

_Mr. Coggeshall._ "Yes, I dare say that she did not say all that which they lay against her."

_Mr. Peters._ "How dare you look into the court to say such a word?"

_Mr. Coggeshall._ "Mr. Peters takes upon him to forbid me. I shall be silent."

As the governor was about to pa.s.s sentence, Mr. Coddington arose and spoke some manly words:

_Mr. Coddington._ "I do think that you are going to censure, therefore I desire to speak a word."

_Governor._ "I pray you speak."

_Mr. Coddington._ "There is one thing objected against the meetings.

What if she designed to edify her own family in her own meetings, may none else be present?"

_Governor._ "If you have nothing else to say but that, it is a pity, Mr.

Coddington, that you should interrupt us in proceeding to censure."

Despite this reproof, Mr. Coddington had his say, and one of the a.s.sistants (Stoughton) insisting, the ministers were compelled to repeat their testimony under oath; which they did after much parleying and with evident reluctance. It is curious to observe that in this trial the by-standers were several times appealed to for an expression of opinion on some knotty question.[261] Had it not involved the liberty and fortunes of many more than the Hutchinsons, its ludicrous side would scarcely have been surpa.s.sed by the celebrated cause of "Bardell _vs._ Pickwick."

There is something inexpressibly touching in the decay of an old and honorable name--in the struggle between grinding poverty and hereditary family pride. Instead of finding the Coddingtons, as might be expected, among the princes of Newport, a native of the place would only shake his head when questioned of them.

Touching the northern limits of Newport is a placid little basin called Coddington's Cove. It is a remembrancer of the old governor. The last Coddington inherited an ample estate, upon the princ.i.p.al of which, like Heine's monkey, who boiled and ate his own tail, he lived, until there was no more left. The Cossacks have a proverb: "He eats both ends of his candle at once." Having dissipated his ancestral patrimony to the last farthing, the thriftless and degenerate Coddington descended all the steps from shabby gentility to actual dest.i.tution; yet, through all these reverses, he maintained the bearing of a fine gentleman. One day he was offered a new suit of clothes--his own had the threadbare gloss of long application of the brush--for the Coddington escutcheon that had descended to him. Drawing himself up with the old look and air, he indignantly exclaimed, "What, sell the coat of arms of a Coddington!"

Nevertheless, he at last became an inmate of the poor-house at Coddington's Cove; and that is the way the family escutcheon came to be hanging in the City Hall. I tell you the story as it was told to me.

The Wanton House, still pointed out in Thames Street, may be known by its ornamented cornice and general air of superior condition. It stands within a stone's-throw of the City Hall. The Wantons, like the Malbones, G.o.dfreys, Brentons, Wickhams, Cranstons, and other high-sounding Newport names, were merchants. Like the Wentworths of New Hampshire, this was a family, I might almost say a dynasty, of governors. When one Wanton went out, another came in. It was the house of Wanton, governing, with few intervals, from 1732, until swept from place by the Revolution.[262] As the king never dies, at the exit of a Wanton the sheriff should have announced, "The governor is dead. Long live the governor!"

Joseph Wanton, the last governor of Rhode Island under the crown, was the son of William. He was a Harvard man, amiable, wealthy, of elegant manners, and handsome person. In the description of his outward appearance we are told that he "wore a large white wig with three curls, one falling down his back, and one forward on each shoulder." I have nowhere met with an earlier claimant of the fashion so recently in vogue among young ladies who had hearts to lose.

[Ill.u.s.tration: NEWPORT STATE-HOUSE.]

Turning out of narrow and noisy Thames Street into the broader and quieter avenues ascending the hill, we find ourselves on the Parade before the State-house. Broad Street, which enters it on one side, was the old Boston high-road; Touro Street, debouching at the other, loses its ident.i.ty ere long in Bellevue Avenue, and is, beyond comparison, the pleasantest walk in Newport.

The Parade, also called Washington Square, is the delta into which the main avenues of Newport flow. It is, therefore, admirably calculated as a starting-point for those street rambles that every visitor has enjoyed in antic.i.p.ation. On this ground I saw some companies of the Newport Artillery going through their evolutions with the steadiness of old soldiers. Their organization goes back to 1741, and is maintained with an _esprit de corps_ that a people not long since engaged in war ought to know how to estimate at its true value. A custom of the corps, as I have heard, was to fire a _feu de joie_ under the windows of a newly married comrade; if a commissioned officer, a field-piece.

[Ill.u.s.tration: COMMODORE PERRY'S HOUSE.]

At the right of the Parade, and a little above the hotel of his name, stands the house purchased by Commodore Perry after the battle of Lake Erie; in Clarke Street, near-by, is the church in which Dr. Stiles, afterward president of Yale, preached, built in 1733; and next beyond is the gun-house of the Newport Artillery.

The State-house is a pleasing, though not imposing, building, known to all evening promenaders in Newport by the illuminated clock in the pediment of the facade. It is in the style of colonial architecture of the middle of the last century, having two stories, with a wooden bal.u.s.trade surmounting the roof. The pediment of the front is topped by a cupola, and underneath is a balcony, from which proclamations, with "G.o.d save the king" at the end of them, have been read to a.s.sembled colonists; as in these latter days, on the last Tuesday of May, which is the annual election in Rhode Island, after a good deal of parading about the streets, the officials elect are here introduced by the high sheriff with a flourish of words: "Hear ye! Take notice that his Excellency, Governor ----, of Dashville, is elected governor, commander-in-chief, and captain-general of Rhode Island for the year ensuing. G.o.d save the State of Rhode Island, and Providence Plantations!" The candidate smiles, bows, and withdraws, and the populace, as in duty bound, cheers itself hoa.r.s.e. It loves the old forms, though some of them seem c.u.mbrous for "Little Rhody." Sometimes a sheriff has been known to get his formula "out of joint," and to tack the words "for the year ensuing" at the end of the invocation.

During the Revolution the State-house was used as a hospital by British and French, and of course much abused. In the restoration some little savor of its ancient quaintness is missed. The interior has paneled wainscoting, carved bal.u.s.ters, and wood-work in the old style of elegance. The walls of the Senate chamber are sheathed quite up to the ceiling, in beautiful paneling, relieved by a ma.s.sive cornice. Stuart's full-length portrait of Washington, in the well-known black velvet and ruffles, is here. I have somewhere seen that the French "desecrated," as some would say, the building by raising an altar on which to say ma.s.s for the sick and dying. In the garret I saw a section of the old pillory that formerly stood in the vacant s.p.a.ce before the building. Many think the restoration of stocks, whipping-post, and pillory would do more to-day to suppress petty crimes than months of imprisonment. They still cling in Delaware to their whipping-post. There, they a.s.sert, the dread of public exposure tends to lessen crime.

The pillory, which a few living persons remember, was usually on a movable platform, which the sheriff could turn at pleasure, making the culprit front the different points of the compa.s.s it was the custom to insert in the sentence. Whipping at the cart's tail was also practiced.

One of the finest old characters Rhode Island has produced was Tristram Burgess, who administered to that dried-up bundle of malignity, John Randolph, a rebuke so scathing that the Virginian was for the time completely silenced. Having roused the Rhode Islander by his Satanic sneering at Northern character and thrift, his merciless criticism, and incomparably bitter sarcasm, Burgess dealt him this sentence on the floor of Congress: "Moral monsters can not propagate; we rejoice that the father of lies can never become the father of liars."

It was at first intended to place the State-house with its front toward what was then known as "the swamp," in the direction of Farewell Street.

In 1743 it was completed. Rhode Island may with advantage follow the lead of Connecticut in abolishing one of its seats of government. At present its const.i.tution provides that the a.s.sembly shall meet and organize at Newport, and hold an adjourned session at Providence.[263]

[Ill.u.s.tration: JEWISH CEMETERY.]

Walking onward and upward in Touro Street, the visitor sees at its junction with Kay Street what he might easily mistake for a pretty and well-tended garden, but for the mortuary emblems sculptured on the gate-way. The chaste and beautiful design of this portal, even to the inverted flambeaux, is a counterpart of that of the Old Granary ground at Boston. This is the Jewish Cemetery.

"How strange it seems! These Hebrews in their graves, Close by the street of this fair sea-port town.

Silent beside the never-silent waves, At rest in all this moving up and down!

"And these sepulchral stones, so old and brown, That pave with level flags their burial-place, Seem like the tablets of the Law, thrown down And broken by Moses at the mountain's base."

[Ill.u.s.tration: JEWS' SYNAGOGUE, NEWPORT.]

Close at hand is the synagogue, in which services are no longer held, though, like the cemetery, it is scrupulously cared for.[264] The silence and mystery which brood over each are deepened by this reverent guardianship of unseen hands. In 1762 the synagogue was dedicated with the solemnities of Jewish religious usage. It was then distinguished as the best building of its kind in the country. The interior was rich and elegant. Over the reading-desk hung a large bra.s.s chandelier; in the centre, and at proper distances around it, four others. On the front of the desk stood a pair of highly ornamented bra.s.s candlesticks, and at the entrance on the east side were four others of the same size and workmanship. As usual, there was for the women a gallery, screened with carved net-work, resting on columns. Over this gallery another rank of columns supported the roof. It was the commonly received opinion that the lamp hanging above the altar was never extinguished.

[Ill.u.s.tration: JUDAH TOURO.]

The Hebrews began to settle on the island before 1677. The deed of their ancient burial-place is dated in this year. They first worshiped in a private house. Accessions came to them from Spain, from Portugal, and from Holland, with such names as Lopez, Riveriera, Seixas, and Touro, until the congregation numbered as many as three hundred families. The stranger becomes familiar with the name of Touro, which at first he would have Truro, from the street and park, no less than the respect with which it is p.r.o.nounced by all old residents. The Hebrews of old Newport seem to have fulfilled the destiny of their race, becoming scattered, and finally extinct. Moses Lopez is said to have been the last resident Jew, though, unless I mistake, the Hebrew physiognomy met me more than once in Newport. This fraction formed one of the curious const.i.tuents of Newport society. Its history is ended, and "_Finis_"

might be written above the entrances of synagogue and cemetery.

Lord Chesterfield once told Lady Shirley, in a serious conversation on the evidences of Christianity, that there was one which he thought to be invincible, namely, the present state of the Jews--a fact to be accounted for on no human principle. The Hebrew customs have remained inviolate amidst all the strange mutations which time has brought. The Sabbath by which Shylock registered his wicked oath is still the Christian's Sat.u.r.day. In the Jewish burial rite the grave was filled in by the nearest of kin.

In no other cemetery in New England have I been so impressed with the sanct.i.ty, the inviolability of the last resting-place of the dead, as here among the graves of a despised people. The idea of eternal rest seemed really present. Not long since I heard the people of a thriving suburb discussing the removal of their old burial-place, bodily--I mean no play upon the word--to the skirts of the town. Being done, it was thought the land would pay for the removal, and prove a profitable speculation. Since Abraham gave four hundred shekels of silver for the field of Ephron, the Israelites have reverenced the sepulchres wherein they bury their dead. Here is religion without ostentation. In our great mausoleums is plenty of ostentation, but little religion.

The visitor here may note another distinctive custom of this ancient people. The inscription above the gate reads, "Erected 5603, from a bequest made by Abraham Touro."[265] They compute the pa.s.sage of time from the creation.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE REDWOOD LIBRARY.]

An hour, or many hours, may be well spent in the Redwood Library, founded by Abraham Redwood,[266] one of the Quaker magnates of old Newport. His fine and kindly face has been carefully reproduced in the engraving. The library building is in the pure yet severe style of a Greek temple. The painter Stuart considered it cla.s.sical and refined. It has a cool and secluded look, standing back from the street and shaded by trees, that is inviting to the appreciative visitor. This is one of the inst.i.tutions of Newport which all may praise without stint. It has grown with its growth; yet, after repeated enlargements, the increased collections in art and literature of this store-house of thought have demanded greater s.p.a.ce.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ABRAHAM REDWOOD.]

Another benefactor worthy to be ranked with Abraham Redwood was Charles Bird King, whose portrait is hanging in the hall. At his death he made a munificent bequest of real estate, yielding nine thousand dollars, his valuable library, engravings, and more than two hundred of the paintings which now adorn the walls.

Among other portraits here are those of Bishop Berkeley in canonicals, and of Governor Joseph Wanton, in scarlet coat and periwig, his face looking as if he and good living were no strangers to each other; of William Coddington, and of a long catalogue of soldiers and statesmen, many being copies by Mr. King. The library suffered from pilfering during the British occupation: it now numbers something in excess of twenty thousand volumes.[267]

I admit the first object in Newport I went to see was the Old Stone Mill. I went directly to it, and should not venture to conduct the reader by any route that did not lead to it. I returned often, and could only wonder at the seeming indifference of people constantly pa.s.sing, but never looking at it.