A copy of this was given to the
general court after Mary Dyar had
received sentence of death, about
the 8th or 9th month, 1659.
The day appointed to execute the bloody sentence, was the 27th of
October, when in the afternoon the condemned prisoners were led to the
gallows by the marshal Michaelson, and captain James Oliver, with a
band of about two hundred armed men, besides many horsemen; as if they
were afraid that some of the people would have rescued the prisoners:
and that no actors on the stage might be wanting, the priest Wilson
joined the company, who, when the court deliberated how to deal with
the Quakers, said, ‘Hang them, or else’ (drawing his finger athwart his
throat,) as if he would have said, ‘Dispatch ’em this way.’ Now the
march began, and a drummer going next before the condemned, the drums
were beaten, especially when any of them attempted to speak. Glorious
signs of heavenly joy and gladness were beheld in the countenances
of these three persons, who walked hand in hand, Mary being the
middlemost, which made the marshal say to her, who was pretty aged,
and stricken in years, ‘Are not you ashamed to walk thus hand in hand
between two young men?’ ‘No,’ replied she, ‘this is to me an hour of
the greatest joy I could enjoy in this world. No eye can see, nor ear
can hear, no tongue can utter, and no heart can understand, the sweet
incomes, or influence, and the refreshings of the spirit of the Lord,
which now I feel.’ Thus going along, W. Robinson said, ‘This is your
hour, and the power of darkness.’ But presently the drums were beaten;
yet shortly after the drummers leaving off beating, Marmaduke Stevenson
said, ‘This is the day of your visitation, wherein the Lord hath
visited you.’ More he spoke, but could not be understood, by reason of
the drums being beaten again. Yet they went on with great cheerfulness,
as going to an everlasting wedding feast, and rejoicing that the Lord
had counted them worthy to suffer death for his name’s sake.
When they were come near the gallows, the priest said in a taunting way
to W. Robinson, ‘Shall such jacks as you come in before authority with
their hats on?’ To which Robinson replied, ‘Mind you, mind you, it is
for the not putting off the hat we are put to death!’ Now being come
to the ladder, they took leave of each other with tender embraces, and
then Robinson went cheerfully up the ladder, and being got up, said to
the people, ‘This is the day of your visitation, wherein the Lord hath
visited you: this is the day the Lord is risen in his mighty power, to
be avenged on all his adversaries.’ He also signified, that he suffered
not as an evil-doer: and desired the spectators to mind the light that
was in them; to wit, the Light of Christ, of which he testified, and
was now going to seal it with his blood. This so incensed the envious
priest, that he said, ‘Hold thy tongue; be silent; thou art going to
die with a lie in thy mouth.’ The rope being now about his neck, the
executioner bound his hands and legs, and tied his neckcloth about his
face: which being done, Robinson said, ‘Now ye are made manifest;’
and the executioner being about turning him off, he said, ‘I suffer
for Christ, in whom I live, and for whom I die.’ He being turned off,
Marmaduke Stevenson stepped up the ladder, and said, ‘Be it known unto
all this day, that we suffer not as evil-doers, but for conscience
sake.’ And when the hangman was about to turn him off, he said, ‘This
day shall we be at rest with the Lord;’ and so he was turned off.
Mary Dyar seeing her companions hanging dead before her, also stepped
up the ladder; but after her coats were tied about her feet, the halter
put about her neck, and her face covered with a handkerchief, which the
priest Wilson lent the hangman, just as she was to be turned off, a cry
was heard, ‘Stop, for she is reprieved.’ Her feet then being loosed,
they bade her come down. But she whose mind was already as it were in
heaven, stood still, and said, she was there willing to suffer as her
brethren did, unless they would annul their wicked law. Little heed was
given to what she said, but they pulled her down, and the marshal and
others taking her by the arms, carried her to prison again. That she
thus was freed from the gallows, this time, was at the intercession
of her son, to whom it seems they could not then resolve to deny that
favour. She, now having heard why she was reprieved, wrote the next
day, being the 28th of October, the following letter to the court.
_The 28th of the Eighth month, 1659._
‘Once more to the general court assembled in Boston, speaks Mary
Dyar, even as before. My life is not accepted, neither availeth
me, in comparison of the lives and liberty of the Truth, and
servants of the living God, for which in the bowels of love and
meekness I sought you: yet, nevertheless, with wicked hands
have you put two of them to death, which makes me to feel, that
the mercies of the wicked are cruelty. I rather choose to die
than to live, as from you, as guilty of their innocent blood:
therefore seeing my request is hindered, I leave you to the
righteous Judge, and searcher of all hearts, who, with the pure
measure of light he hath given to every man to profit withal,
will in his due time let you see whose servants you are, and of
whom you have taken counsel, which I desire you to search into:
but all his counsel hath been slighted, and you would none of
his reproofs. Read your portion, Prov. i. 24 to 32. For verily
the night cometh on you apace, wherein no man can work, in which
you shall assuredly fall to your own master. In obedience to
the Lord, whom I serve with my spirit, and pity to your souls,
which you neither know nor pity, I can do no less than once more
to warn you, to put away the evil of your doings; and kiss the
Son, the light in you, before his wrath be kindled in you; for
where it is, nothing without you can help or deliver you out of
his hand at all; and if these things be not so, then say, there
hath been no prophet from the Lord sent amongst you; though we be
nothing, yet it is his pleasure, by things that are not, to bring
to nought things that are.
When I heard your last order read, it was a disturbance unto me,
that was so freely offering up my life to him that gave it me,
and sent me hither so to do, which obedience being his own work,
he gloriously accompanied with his presence, and peace, and love
in me, in which I rested from my labour; till by your order and
the people, I was so far disturbed, that I could not retain any
more of the words thereof, than that I should return to prison,
and there remain forty and eight hours; to which I submitted,
finding nothing from the Lord to the contrary, that I may know
what his pleasure and counsel is concerning me, on whom I wait
therefore, for he is my life, and the length of my days; and as I
said before, I came at his command, and go at his command.