Dealings With The Dead Volume I Part 21

Draco, I think, would have been perfectly satisfied with some portions of the primitive, colonial and town legislation of Ma.s.sachusetts. Hutchinson, i. 436, quotes the following decree--"Captain Stone, for abusing Mr.

Ludlow, and calling him _Justa.s.s_, is fined an hundred pounds, and prohibited coming within the patent, without the Governor's leave, upon pain of death."

Hazard, Hist. Coll. i. 630, has preserved a law against the Quakers, published in Boston, by beat of drum. It bears date Oct. 14th, 1656. The preamble is couched, in rather strong language--"Whereas there is a cursed sect of heretics lately risen up in the world, which are commonly called Quakers, who take upon them to be immediately sent of G.o.d," &c. The statute inflicts a fine of 100 upon any person, who brings one of them into any harbor, creek, or cove, compels him to carry such Quaker away--the Quaker to be put in the house of correction, and severely whipped; no person to speak to him. 5 penalty, for importing, dispersing, or concealing any book, containing their "devilish opinions;" 40 s.h.i.+llings for maintaining such opinions. 4 for persisting. House of correction and banishment, for still persisting.

The poor Quakers gave our intolerant ancestors complete vexation. Hazard, ii. 589, gives an extract from a law, for the special punishment of two of these unhappy people, Peter Pierson and Judah Brown--"That they shall, by the constable of Boston, be forthwith taken out of the prison, and stripped from the girdle upwards, by the executioner, tied to the cart's tail, and whipped through the town, with twenty stripes; and then carried to Roxbury, and delivered to the constable there, who is also to tie them, or cause them to be tied, in like manner, to the cart's tail, and again whip them through the town with ten stripes; and then carried to Dedham, and delivered to the constable there, who is again, in like manner, to cause them to be tied to the cart's tail, and whipped, with ten stripes, through the town, and thence they are immediately to depart the jurisdiction, at their peril."

The legislative designation of the Quakers was _Quaker rogues, heretics, accursed rantors, and vagabonds_.

In 1657, according to Hutchinson, i. 197, "an additional law was made, by which all persons were subjected to the penalty of 40 s.h.i.+llings, for every hour's entertainment, given to a known Quaker, and every Quaker, after the first conviction, if a man, was to lose an ear, and a second time the other; a woman, each time, to be severely whipped; and the third time, man or woman, to have their tongues bored through, with a red-hot iron." In 1658, 10 s.h.i.+llings fine were levied, on every person, present at a Quaker meeting, and 5 for speaking at such meeting. In October of that year, the punishment of death was decreed against all Quakers, returning into the Colony, after banishment. Bishop, in his "New England Judged," says, that the ears of Holden, Copeland, and Rous, three Quakers, were cut off in prison. June 1, 1660, Mary Dyer was hanged for returning, after banishment. Seven persons were fined, some of them 10 apiece, for harboring, and Edward Wharton whipped, twenty stripes, for piloting the Quakers. Several persons were brought to trial--"for adhering to the cursed sect of Quakers, not disowning themselves to be such, refusing to give civil respect, leaving their families and relations, and running from place to place, vagabond-like." Daniel Gold and Robert Harper were sentenced to be whipped, and, with Alice Courland, Mary Scott, and Hope Clifford, banished, under pain of death. William Kingsmill, Margaret Smith, Mary Trask, and Provided Southwick were sentenced to be whipped, and Hannah Phelps admonished.

Sundry others were whipped and banished, that year. John Chamberlain came to trial, with his hat on, and refused to answer. The verdict of the jury, as recorded, was--"_much inclining to the cursed opinions of the Quakers_." Wendlock Christopherson was sentenced to death, but suffered to fly the jurisdiction. March 14, 1660.--William Ledea, "_a cursed Quaker_,"

was hanged. Some of these Quakers, I apprehend, were determined to exhibit the naked truth to our Puritan fathers. "Deborah Wilson," says Hutchinson, i. 204, "went through the streets of Salem, naked as she came into the world, for which she was well whipped." At length, Sept. 9, 1661, an order came from the King, prohibiting the capital, and even corporal, punishment of the Quakers.

Oct. 13, 1657.--Benedict Arnold, William Baulston, Randall Howldon, Arthur Fenner, and William Feild, the Government of Rhode Island, addressed a letter, on the subject of this persecution, to the General Court of Ma.s.sachusetts, in reply to one, received from them. This letter is highly creditable to the good sense and discretion of the writers--"And as concerning these Quakers, (so called)" say they, "which are now among us, we have no law, whereby to punish any, for only declaring by words, &c., their mindes and understandings concerning the things and ways of G.o.d, as to salvation and an eternal condition. And we moreover finde that in those places, where these people aforesaid, in this Coloney, 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 they begin to loath 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; and surely we find that they delight to be persecuted by the civil powers, and when they are soe, they are like to gaine more adherents by the conseyte of their patient sufferings than by consent to their pernicious sayings."

One is taken rather by surprise, upon meeting with such a sample of admirable common sense, in an adjoining Colony, and on such a subject, at that early day--so opposite withal to those principles of action, which prevailed in Ma.s.sachusetts.

The laws of the Colony, enacted from year to year, were first collected together, and ratified by the General Court, in 1648. Hutchinson, i. 437, says, "Mr. Bellingham of the magistrates, and Mr. Cotton of the clergy, had the greatest share in this work."

This code was framed, by Bellingham and Cotton, with a particular regard to Moses and the tables, and a singular piece of mosaic it was. "Murder, sodomy, witchcraft, arson, and _rape of a child_, under ten years of age,"

says Hutchinson, i. 440, "were the only crimes made capital in the Colony, which were capital in England." Rape, in the general sense, not being a capital offence, by the Jewish law, was not made a capital offence, in the Colony, for many years. High treason is not even named. The wors.h.i.+p of false G.o.ds was punished with death, with an exception, in favor of the Indians, who were fined 5 a piece, for powowing.

Blasphemy and reproaching religion were capital offences. Adultery with a married woman, whether the man were married or single, was punished with the death of both parties; but, if the woman were single, whether the man were married or single, it was not a capital offence, in either.

Man-stealing was a capital offence. So was wilful perjury, with intent to take away another's life. Cursing or smiting a parent, by a child over sixteen years of age, unless in self-defence, or provoked by cruelty, or having been "unchristianly neglected in its education," was a capital offence. A stubborn, rebellious son was punished with death. There was a conviction under this law; "but the offender," says Hutchinson, ibid. 442, "was rescued from the gallows, by the King's commissioners, in 1665." The return of a "cursed Quaker," or a Romish priest, after banishment, and the denial of either of the books, of the Old or New Testament, were punished with banishment or death, at the discretion of the court. The jurisdiction of the Colony was extended, by the code of Parson Cotton and Mr.

Bellingham, over the ocean; for they decreed the same punishment, for the last-named offence, when committed upon the high seas, and the General Court ratified this law. Burglary, and theft, in a house, or in the fields, on the Lord's day, were, upon a third conviction, made capital crimes. The distinction, between grand and petty larceny, which was recognized in England, till 1827, 7th and 8th Geo. IV., ch. 29, was abolished, by the code of Cotton and Bellingham, in 1648; and theft, without limitation of value, was made punishable, by fine or whipping, and rest.i.tution of treble value. In some cases, only double. Thus, ibid. 436, we have the following entry--"Josias Plaistowe, for stealing four baskets of corn from the Indians, is ordered to return them eight baskets, to be fined five pounds, and hereafter to be called by the name of Josias, and not Mr., as formerly he used to be."

This lenity, in regard to larceny, Mr. Cotton seems to have been willing to counterbalance, by a terrible severity, on some other occasions.

Mr. Hutchinson, ibid. 442, states, that he has seen the first draught of this code, in the hand-writing of Mr. Cotton, in which there are named six offences, made punishable with death, all which are altered, in the hand of Gov. Winthrop, and the death penalty stricken out. The six offences were--"Prophaning the Lord's day, in a careless or scornful neglect or contempt thereof--Reviling the magistrates in the highest rank, viz., the Governor and Council--Defiling a woman espoused--Incest within the Levitical degrees--The pollution, mentioned in Leviticus xx. 13 to 16--Lying with a maid in her father's house, and keeping secret, till she is married to another." Mr. Cotton would have punished all these offences with death.

On the subject of divorce, the code of 1648 differed from that of the present day, _with us_, essentially. Adultery in the wife was held to be sufficient cause, for divorce _a vinculo_: "but male adultery," says Hutchinson, i. 445, "after some debate and consultation with the elders, was judged not sufficient." The principle, which directed their decision, was, doubtless, the same, referred to and recognized, by Lord Chancellor Eldon, in the House of Lords, in 1801, as reported by Mr. Twiss, in his Memoirs, vol. i. p. 383.

No. LXIII.

If the materials, of which history and biography are made--the sources of information--were accessible to every reader, and the patience and ability were his, to examine for himself, there is, probably, no historian nor biographer, in whose accuracy and impartiality, his confidence would not be occasionally weakened. The statement or a.s.sertion, the authority for which lies scattered, among the pages of fifty different writers, perhaps, and which the historian has compressed within ten short lines, would, now and then, be found tinctured, and its true complexion materially altered, by the religious or political coloring of the writer's mind.

The entire history of one or more ages has been written, to support a particular code of religious or political tenets. The prejudices of an annalist have, occasionally, from long indulgence, become so habitual, that his offences, in this wise, become almost involuntary.

It is very probable, that the devoted followers--the wholesale admirers--of William Penn, who have presented their conceptions of his character, and their constructions of his conduct, to the world, from time to time, have been led into some little excesses, by the force of habitual idolatry. On the other hand, few readers, I believe, have failed to be surprised, by some of the statements and opinions, in regard to Penn, which are presented, on the pages of Mr. Macaulay's History of England.

In my last number, I alluded to the persecution of the Quakers in Ma.s.sachusetts. It is my purpose, to say something more of these "_cursed_"

Quakers, and, particularly, of William Penn. My remarks may extend over several consecutive numbers of these Dealings with the Dead; and, I flatter myself, that, from the nature of the subject, they will not be wholly uninteresting to the reader.

I have always cherished a feeling of regard and respect, for these "cursed" Quakers, originating in early impressions, and increased, by some personal intercourse, with certain members of the Society of Friends.

It appears, by the Salem Records, that John Kitchen was fined thirty pence, for "unworthy and malignant carriages and speeches, in open court, Sept. 25, 1662." I was very much chagrined, when I first glanced at this record; for he was my great, great, great-grandfather, by the mother's side; and grandfather of the Hon. Col. John Turner, of Salem, who commanded, at the battle of Haverhill. Great was my satisfaction, when I discovered, that John Kitchen's offence was neither more nor less, than an absolute refusal to take off his hat, in presence of the magistrate. For the luxury of keeping it on, and absenting themselves from the ordinances, he appears to have paid 40 stirling, in fines, for himself and Elizabeth, his wife. The "_cursed_" Quakers appear to have had a hard time of it, about the middle of the seventeenth century. Felt tells us, in his Annals, p. 204, that Robinson and Stevenson were hung in 1659, for returning from banishment; and, on p. 206, that Mary Dyer, of the Friends, was hung, June 1, 1660.

The deposition of John Ward and Thomas Mekens, is still of record, taken in that very month and year, showing that they saw Mrs. Kitchen pulled off her horse, and heard one Batter tell her, she was "_a base, quaking s.l.u.t_," and had been "_a powowing_."

Now, John Kitchen was a good Quaker, doubtless, so far as regarded the essential qualification of obstinately wearing his hat, and refusing to take an oath. But he was made of flesh and blood, like all other Quakers; and this outrage, in pulling my gr. gr. gr. grandmother down from her horse, was more than flesh and blood could bear. A copy of the deposition of Giles Corey is now before me, showing, that John, upon other occasions, was not so pacific, as he might have been--and that, upon one occasion, "_he struck up Mr. Edward Norris his heels_"--and, upon another, he beat Giles Corey himself, "_till he was all blody_." He seems to have been moved, by the spirit, to thrash them both. I take this Giles Corey to be the man, or the father of the man, who, as Felt says, p. 308, was pressed to death, in Salem, for standing mute, during the witch mania, September 19, 1692.

William Penn was, for many years, engaged in controversy, chiefly in defence of the peculiar, religious opinions of the Quakers. Wood, in his Athenae Oxonienses, iv. p. 647, Lond. 1820, gives the t.i.tles of fifty-two tracts and pamphlets, published by Penn, between 1668 and 1690. In the heat of controversy, his character was rudely a.s.sailed, and his conduct grossly misrepresented. The familiar relation, subsisting between him and James II., gave color, with some persons, to the report, that Penn, at heart, was a Papist and a Jesuit. These groundless imputations have, long ago, been swallowed up, in their own absurdity. So strong, however, was the hold, which these ridiculous fancies had taken of the public mind, that, after the revolution of 1688, he was examined before the Council, and obliged to give bond, for his appearance, from time to time; till, at last, he obtained a hearing before King William, and effectually established his innocence.

Among the few men, of elevated standing, who gave, or pretended to give credit to the rumor, that Penn was a Papist, Burnet appears in the foremost rank. He, who could speak of Prior, as "_one Prior_," might be expected to speak of William Penn, as "_Penn the Quaker_." The appearance of Penn, at the Court of the Prince of Orange, could, on no account, have been agreeable to a Bishop, and, least of all Bishops, to Burnet; who saw, in the new comer, the confidential agent of his bitterest enemy, King James the Second; and who might, on other scores, have been jealous of the influence, even of "_Penn the Quaker_." Burnet's words are these, vol. ii.

p. 318, Lond., 1818--"Many suspected that he was a concealed Papist; it is certain he was much with father Peter, and was particularly trusted by the Earl of Sunderland." On the preceding page Burnet thus describes the Quaker--"He was a talking vain man, who had been long in the King's favor, he being the Vice Admiral's son. He had such an opinion of his own faculty of persuading, that he thought none could stand before it; though he was singular in that opinion; for he had a tedious, luscious way, that was not apt to overcome a man's reason, though it might tire his patience." It is impossible not to perceive, in this description, some touches, which, historians have told us, were singularly applicable to Burnet himself.

William, who perfectly comprehended the character of Halifax and Burnet, perceived the propriety of keeping them apart, when the former came to Hungerford, as a commissioner from the King, Dec. 8, 1688. How far I judge rightly, in applying a part of Burnet's description of Penn, to Burnet himself, may appear, in the following pa.s.sage from Macaulay, vol. ii. p.

538: "Almost all those, who were admitted to his (William's) confidence, were men, taciturn and impenetrable as himself. Burnet was the only exception. He was notoriously garrulous and indiscreet. Yet circ.u.mstances had made it necessary to trust him; and he would, doubtless, under the dexterous management of Halifax, have poured put secrets, as fast as words. William knew this well; and, when he was informed, that Halifax was asking for the Doctor, could not refrain from exclaiming, '_If they get together, there will be fine tattling_.'"

Mr. Macaulay remarks, that--"_To speak the whole truth, concerning Penn, is a task, which requires some courage_." He then, vol. i. page 505, delivers himself as follows--"The integrity of Penn had stood firm against obloquy and persecution. But now, attacked by royal wiles, by female blandishments, by the insinuating eloquence and delicate flattery of veteran diplomatists and courtiers, his resolution began to give way.

t.i.tles and phrases, against which he had often borne his testimony, dropped occasionally from his lips and his pen. It would be well, if he had been guilty of nothing worse than such compliances with the fas.h.i.+ons of the world. Unhappily it cannot be concealed, that he bore a chief part in some transactions, condemned, not merely by the rigid code of the society, to which he belonged, but by the general sense of all honest men.

He afterwards solemnly protested that his hands were pure from illicit gain, and that he had never received any gratuity from those, whom he had obliged, though he might easily, while his interest at court lasted, have made a hundred and twenty thousand pounds. To this a.s.sertion full credit is due. But bribes may be offered to vanity, as well as to cupidity; and it is impossible to deny that Penn was cajoled into bearing a part, in some unjustifiable transactions of which others enjoyed the profits."

This pa.s.sage will tend, in the ratio of Mr. Macaulay's influence, to disturb the popular opinion of William Penn. It is very carefully written, and will not always be so carefully read. It is, perhaps, unfortunate for Penn, that Mr. Macaulay felt obliged, in pursuing the course of his history, to postpone the presentation of the facts, upon which his opinions rest, until they arise, in their chronological order. Thus the impression, instead of being removed, qualified, or confirmed, by instant examination, is suffered to become imbedded in the mind. Having carefully collated this pa.s.sage, with every other pa.s.sage, relative to Penn, in Mr.

Macaulay's work, I must confess, that the exceedingly painful impression, produced by the paragraph, presented above, has been materially relieved, by a careful consideration of all the evidence, subsequently offered, by Mr. Macaulay himself, and by the testimony of other writers. Perhaps the reader will consent to go along with me, in the examination of this question.

No. LXIV.

Mr. Macaulay's second mention of William Penn may be found, vol. i. page 650. A number of young girls, acting under the direction of their school-mistress, had walked in procession, and presented a standard to Monmouth, at Taunton, in 1635. Some of them had expiated their offence already. That h.e.l.l-hound of a judge, Jeffreys, had literally frightened one of them to death. It was determined, under menace of the gibbet, to extort a ransom from the parents of _all_ these innocent girls. Who does not apply those lines of Shakspeare to this infernal judge!

"Did you say all? What, all? Oh, h.e.l.l-kite, all?

What, all my pretty chickens and their dam, At one fell swoop?"

"The Queen's maids of honor," says Mr. Macaulay, "asked the royal permission, to wring money out of the parents of the poor children; and the permission was granted." They demanded 7000, and applied to Sir Francis Warre, to exact the ransom. "He was charged to declare, in strong language, that the maids of honor would not endure delay," &c.

Warre excused himself. Mr. Macaulay proceeds as follows: "The maids of honor then requested William Penn to act for them, and Penn accepted the commission. Yet it should seem that a little of the pertinacious scrupulosity, which he had often shown, about taking off his hat, would not have been altogether out of place on this occasion. He probably silenced the remonstrances of his conscience, by repeating to himself, that none of the money, which he extorted, would go into his own pocket; that, if he refused to be the agent of the ladies, they would find agents less humane; that by complying he should increase his influence at the court; and that his influence at the court had already enabled him, and might still enable him to render greater services to his oppressed brethren. The maids of honor were at last forced to content themselves with less than a third part of what they had demanded."

Now it seems to me, that no clear-headed, whole-hearted, _impartial_ reader will draw the inference, from this pa.s.sage, which Mr. Macaulay would manifestly have him draw. Penn well understood the resolute brutality of Jeffreys, the never-dying obstinacy and vindictive malevolence of James, and the heartless greediness of these maids of honor. He knew, as Mr. Macaulay says, that "_if he refused to be the agent of the ladies they would find agents less humane_." There was no secrecy here--this thing was not done in a corner. Mr. Macaulay says, "they _charged_ Sir Francis Warre," &c.: and after he refused, they "_requested_ William Penn," &c. Penn acted as a peacemaker. He stood between these she wolves--these shameless maids of honor--and the Taunton lambs; and, instead of 7000, he persuaded those vampyres, who, under the royal grant, had full power in their hands to do their wicked will--to receive less than 2300. Mr. Macaulay admits, that Penn received not a farthing; and, that, had he refused, matters might have been worse for the oppressed.

The known character of Penn demands of us the presumption, in his favor, that he entered upon this business conscientiously, and not as an _extortioner_--and that he made, as the result leads us to believe he did, the very best terms for the parents. Wherein was ever the sin or the shame of negotiating, between the buccaneers of the Tortugas, and the parents of captive children, for their ransom? Does not Mr. Macaulay present the reign of James II. before us, as blotted all over, with official piracy and judicial murder? If the adjustment of this odious business increased the influence of Penn, at court, and thereby enabled him to "_render great services to his oppressed brethren_"--these were the natural consequences of the act; without them, there was enough of just and honorable motive, for a mediator, to step between the oppressor and the oppressed, and lessen, as much as possible, the weight of the oppression.

If the conduct of William Penn, upon this occasion, was the humane and Christian thing, which it certainly appears to have been, "_the pertinacious scrupulosity, which he had often shown, about taking off his hat_" would have been wholly out of place. And if so, what justification can be found for Mr. Macaulay's expressions--"_the remonstrances of his conscience_," and "_the money, which he extorted_."

It is proverbially hard, for an old dog to learn new tricks. He, to whose hand the hatchet is familiar, when he subst.i.tutes the rapier, will still hack and hew with it, as though it were a hatchet. It may well be doubted, if an impartial history, especially those parts of it, wherein the writer deals with character and motive, can ever be trustworthily and impartially written, by a veteran, professional reviewer, of the tomahawk school, however splendid his talents may be.

Upon this occasion, Penn, doubtless, persuaded the maids of honor to moderate their demands; at the same time, representing to the parents the uncompromising character of those, with whom they had to deal, and the unavoidable necessity of making terms. It is impossible to judge of the transaction aright, without taking into view the character of those dark days of tyranny and misrule, and the little security, then enjoyed by the subject.

On page 659, ibid., Mr. Macaulay, once more, introduces Penn to his readers--"William Penn, for whom exhibitions, which humane men generally avoid, seem to have had a strong attraction, hastened from Cheapside, where he had seen Cornish hanged, to Tyburn, in order to see Elizabeth Gaunt burned. He afterwards related that, when she calmly disposed the straw about her, in such a manner, as to shorten her sufferings, all the bystanders burst into tears." Here is another attempt to lower the Quaker, in public estimation.

That Penn ever, from the cradle to the grave, gazed, unsympathizingly, upon human suffering, n.o.body, but a madman, will credit, for a moment. Nor would Mr. Macaulay, notwithstanding the rather peculiar construction of the paragraph, venture _directly_ so to represent him. It has been my fortune to know several men, of kind and warm affections, who have confessed, without reserve, a strong desire to witness the execution of criminals. Cornish and Gaunt were executed on the same day, and their fate excited universal attention. Penn's account of the last moments of both was very minute; and shows him to have been a deeply interested observer.