THE CHART AND THE PILOTS.
“And sovereign law, the state’s collected will,
O’er thrones and globes elate,
Sits empress, crowning good, repressing ill.”
SIR WILLIAM JONES.
“To do the genteel deeds—that makes the gentleman.”
CHAUCER.
’Tis a trite saying, that legislation reflects character. The penal
code of a state mirrors the culture, the thought, and the habits of
its citizens; because laws grow from men’s exigencies. Of course, the
Pilgrims had a legal chart, and they wrote its quaint characters in
the ink of their peculiarities. Unlike our statute-book, it made no
fine distinctions and it used no legal fictions, but was very simple
and very plain; results due to the primitive social customs of the
colonies, to the lack of lawyers, and to the constant effort to avoid
litigation; for in those days they did not mean
——“With subtle cobweb cheats,
To catch in knotted law, like nets;
In which, when men are once imbrangled,
The more they stir, the more they’re tangled.”
The founders of New England had little sympathy with, and made no
provision for, legal legerdemain. They were much too earnest and
honest to admire that kind of justice which Pope has satirized:
“Once—says an author, where I need not say—
Two travellers found an oyster in their way:
Both fierce, both hungry, the dispute grew strong,
When, scale in hand, dame Justice passed along.
Before her each with clamor pleads the laws,
Explains the matter, and would win the cause.
Dame Justice, weighing long the doubtful right,
Takes, opens, swallows it, before their sight.
The cause of strife removed so rarely well,
‘There take’—says Justice—‘take you each a shell.
We thrive at Westminster on fools like you:
’Twas a fat oyster—live in peace—adieu.’”
But while the Pilgrims knew nothing of law as a vehicle for quarrels
to ride on and for trickery to drive, they made use of it as a bit
to curb disorder. “Some of their enactments exhibit profound wisdom,
sagacity, and forecast; others show their strong attachment to the
precepts of the Bible; and still others descend to matters of such
trivial nature as to appear puerile; yet of these it may be said that
they are preventive. The Pilgrims believed in nipping crime in the
bud. The things forbidden may have been, in themselves, comparatively
unimportant; but their influence, if unchecked, might have led to
gross offences. By destroying the seed of wickedness, they labored to
prevent the fruits.”[1012]
Very evidently the colonists were not free traders, for, three years
after the landing at Plymouth Rock, a protective law was passed,
by which it was enacted that “no handicraftsmen, as shoemakers,
tailors, carpenters, joiners, smiths, and sawyers, belonging to this
plantation, shall work for any strangers and foreigners until the
domestic necessities be served.”[1013] And at the same time, in order
to prevent the return of a famine which had repeatedly visited them,
it was enacted that “until farther orders, no corn, beans, or peas,
be exported, under penalty of a confiscation of such exports.”[1014]
Marriage was held to be a civil contract,[1015] and the intention to
marry was to be published fourteen days, including three Sabbaths,
before the union, and was then to be consummated only on the consent
of the parents or guardian of the lady, if she were under “parental
covert.”[1016]
Denial of the Scriptures as the rule of life, was an indictable
offence, and was punishable by whipping; so were violations of
the Sabbath, the neglecting of public worship, and slander.[1017]
Once a Miss Boulton, on conviction of slander, was condemned to
the humiliating punishment of sitting in the stocks, with a paper
fastened to her breast on which were written the details of her
offence in capital letters.[1018] At another time, two men were
similarly dealt with for having disturbed a meeting;[1019] and this
same court also “sharply reproved John Whitson for writing a note
on common business on the Lord’s day.”[1020] Women who abused their
husbands or who struck their fathers-in-law, were fined or whipped at
the option of the magistrate.[1021]
Very odd and very arbitrary all this seems to us; but it came
naturally from the theocratic idea, which subordinated every other
interest to religion. And with all its singularities, it must be
confessed that the Pilgrim code was, as a whole and at that time,
adapted to secure a higher moral character to the community than
would have been attained by the naturalization of the then existing
laws of any other people.[1022]
Occasionally, “whales used to be driven ashore, whereupon the
Pilgrims would obtain oil from them. Ere long it was ordained that
when such an incident occurred, or when any whale was cut up at sea
and brought into port, one full hogshead of oil should be paid to the
state;”[1023] and this was the first impost, from which have grown
the custom-houses of our age.
The court which framed this law also proposed, “as a thing very
commendable and beneficial to the towns where God’s providence cast
whales, that all should agree to set apart some portion of such fish
or oil for the encouragement of an able, godly ministry.”[1024]
But the chief strength of New England lay in the Puritan homes. These
were the nurseries of Christian freemen. Good could hardly fail to
result when “parents were required to see that their children were
taught to read the Scriptures and to recite some short orthodox
catechism, without the book; and when they ‘brought up’ their
families to some honest calling that made them useful to themselves
and to the commonwealth.”
The New England towns were perfect democracies. “Their formation
was promoted by the dread of, and danger from, Indians, and also
by the demand for churches and schools. The settlers, therefore,
did not scatter widely upon large plantations, but collected in
villages, with their farms around them. The town-meetings were held
annually—usually in the spring—and every voter was expected to be
present to take his part in the direction of affairs; this was looked
upon as a chief duty; and it was held that a man who would not use
his liberty and do this duty was no good citizen. The roll of voters
was often called, and the absentees were each fined eighteen pence.
At first they met in the church; but eventually each town provided
itself with a town-house, in which to conduct its business and hold
its courts. When the meetings came to order, some grave and good
citizen was chosen moderator. Then the town business was brought up
in order. Motions were made, briefly debated, and voted upon. Matters
passed at one meeting were often reversed at a subsequent one, and
the minutes read, ‘Undone next meeting.’ The voters granted lands,
established and repaired mills, roads, and ferries, and took order as
to clearing commons, paying the schoolmaster, raising the salary of
the minister, and electing deputies to the General Court. In every
town from three to seven ‘prudential men,’ afterwards called ‘select
men,’ were appointed to administer the town affairs between the
annual meetings; and these held petty courts, decided minor cases,
and acted as referees in most disputes. Such was the nursing on
which these states grew up a congeries of towns, true and strong and
free.”[1025]
Among the many peculiarities of the Pilgrim Fathers, perhaps the
oddest trait was either their lack of ambition or their sober sense
of the responsibilities of office, whose honors and emoluments so
little tempted them, that even the position of governor went begging.
Indeed, they had to be pricked up to their duty by statute; for
in 1632 it was provided that if any one should refuse to sit in
the gubernatorial chair, after election, he should be fined twenty
pounds.[1026] Winthrop, under the year 1633, makes this record:
“This year, Mr. Edward Winslow was elected governor of Plymouth, and
Mr. Bradford, having been governor about ten years, _now got off by
importunity_.”[1027]
How much happier we are in our age, for now-a-days thousands of
devoted patriots are perfectly willing to lay their privacy upon
the altar of their country by accepting any office, from a snuggery
in the custom-house to the presidency of the Republic. They only
beg to be used. Men no longer cite that speech of the father of
Themistocles, who, in attempting to dissuade his son from government,
showed him the old, discarded oars which the Grecian mariners had
thrown away upon the sea-shore, and said: “See; the people will
certainly treat their old rulers with the same contempt.”
But if the Pilgrims did not accept office readily, they did not hold
it lightly. No; they were real rulers, not cockades masquerading in
the garb of authority. They took high views of their duties, and
believed with Agapetus, that “the loftier the station one reaches
in the government, the truer should be his devotion to the service
of God;”[1028] and they were sensible of what Cotton Mather styles
that “great stroke” of Cicero: “_Nullâ re propiùs hominas ad Deum
accedunt, quam salutem hominibus dando_”—men approach nearest to the
character of God in doing good to mankind.
“The word _government_ properly signifies the _guidance of a ship_.
Tully uses it in that sense; and in Plutarch the art of steering a
vessel is called _government_.[1029] New England is a little ship
that has weathered many storms, and it is but fair that those who
have stood at the helm of the ship should be remembered in its
story.” Let us mention one or two of these honored pilots.
With William Bradford, the eldest of the New England governors, we
are already acquainted. Born in 1588, he had come to America in the
prime of his life, and devoted himself to God and the common weal.
He was “looked on as a common blessing and father to all,” and he
lived long enough to see those high hopes with which he had embarked
in the “Mayflower” more than realized; for the wilderness refuge
was thronged and prosperous beyond his wildest dreams.[1030] He was
fully appreciated at Plymouth; and with the exception of five years’
respite, when he “got off” by his “importunity,” he was reëlected
governor with annual regularity until death promoted him to a higher
station.[1031]
Bradford’s administration of affairs as connected with the
many vexatious questions arising from the difficulty with the
Merchant-adventurers and with the English partners of the
“Undertakers,” was a model of firmness, wisdom, patience,
forbearance, and energy. So also in his benevolent determination to
bring over the rest of the Leyden exiles at whatever cost, he showed
the fineness and beauty of his character. “Under the pressure of
misfortune, his example was a star of hope, for he never yielded to
despondency; and while, with Brewster, he threw the Pilgrims upon God
for support and provision, he never neglected to set in motion every
possible instrumentality for procuring supplies.”[1032] Patient,
sagacious, devout, heroic, he was the very ideal of a Christian ruler.
We are assured by Cotton Mather that Bradford was “a person for study
as well as for action; and hence, notwithstanding the difficulties
through which he passed in his boyhood, he attained a notable skill
in languages. The Dutch tongue was almost as vernacular to him as
the English; the French he could also manage; the Latin and the Greek
he had mastered; but the Hebrew he most of all studied, ‘Because,’
he said, ‘I would see with my own eyes the ancient oracles of God
in their native beauty.’ He was also well skilled in history, in
antiquity, and in philosophy; and for theology, he became so versed
in it, that he was an irrefragable disputant.”[1033]
But the crown of his shining life was not his genius in executive
affairs, or the journal which he has bequeathed to us as a record
of the cost at which he built at Plymouth Rock; it was “his holy,
prayerful, fruitful walk with God,” and this made him, in a better
sense than Plato meant,
“The shepherd-guardian of his human fold.”
Bradford’s immediate successors at Plymouth were Edward Winslow and
Thomas Prince, men of the same mould, and whose lives exhaled the
self-same fragrance. “Where the rulers are Christians the state
prospers,” was the old proverb, and in their case it was once more
verified.
John Winthrop was the foremost man in Massachusetts. He was educated,
he was gentlemanly, and he had been rich, but he spent his fortune
“in the furtherance of God’s work,” bidding his son not mourn for
it, but “certainly expect a liberal portion in the prosperity and
blessing of the future.”[1034] He was a man of much gentleness and
amiability; and “his private life was charming” as it crops out
in his exquisite letters to his wife, who remained for a time in
England.[1035]
He carried his admirable temper into public life. He had always an
open hand of charity. When Roger Williams was banished, he wrote
him privately to sustain and encourage him, and even suggested
Narragansett Bay as a safe asylum.[1036] He was always inclined to
lenient ways; and when in his later days he was asked to sign an
order for the banishment of an offending minister, he declined,
remarking: “No, I have done too much of that already.”[1037] With
this natural bent towards liberality, it was only with extreme
reluctance that he yielded to the imperious spirit of intolerance
which then reigned.
As governor, he was prudent, patient, courageous, and
energetic—traits which made him the successful pilot of the ship of
state in the unchartered waters on which he floated.
Winthrop never disdained to share equally with his brother Pilgrims.
It is related of him that once, in a famine, he divided his last peck
of meal with a hungry man, and was only not gnawed by hunger himself,
because a ship entered Salem harbor ere night with a well-stocked
larder, and changed the fast which had been appointed for the next
day into a thanksgiving.[1038]
He knew how to conquer hearts by kindness. One hard winter, complaint
was made to him that a man stole regularly to his woodpile and
abstracted fuel. “Does he?” asked Winthrop; “send him to me; I’ll
cure him.” The quaking wretch was brought in and expected to hear
a rigorous sentence. “Friend,” said he, “it is a cold winter, and
I fear you are but poorly provided with wood to meet it. You are
welcome to supply yourself at my pile till winter is over.”[1039]
Winthrop’s “religion shone out through all his life, and gave
a higher lustre to his character. He was zealous for truth and
righteousness. Often he bore witness to the minister in the midst of
the congregation; and frequently he visited the neighboring towns to
prophesy, as it was called, or as we say, exhort. He had admirers not
only in America, but in England and at court. ‘’Tis a pity,’ remarked
Charles I., ‘that such a worthy gentleman should have banished
himself to the hardships of a wilderness life.’”[1040]
In Massachusetts the colonists believed in rotation in office;
consequently, Winthrop was often displaced from the gubernatorial
chair, and then replaced again. He always filled the post with
dignity and with untarnished honor; so that on his death at sixty,
worn out by toil and care, he might have torn his books of account,
as Scipio Africanus did, and said: “A flourishing colony has been
led out and settled under my direction. I have spent my fortune and
myself in its service. Waste no more time in harangues, but give
thanks to God.”[1041]
Winthrop’s great rival in influence and position was stern Thomas
Dudley. His views corresponded far more completely with the
theocratic formulas than did those of his mild and somewhat pliant
friend. Dudley was bold, aggressive, and dogmatic; and he frequently
quarrelled with Winthrop, because that statesman would not hack
dissenters with his harsh hatchet, but was cautious, and temporizing,
and conciliatory, alike from temperament and from discipline. He
was always chosen deputy when Winthrop was elected governor; and on
several occasions he held the chief office himself. “He was a man of
sound sense, sterling integrity, and uncompromising faith. He was
rigid in his religious opinions, and urged the strictest enforcement
of the sedition laws. He considered that the various opinions that
were struggling to manifest themselves from time to time tended to
licentiousness; and he was desirous that his epitaph should be—‘I
died no libertine.’”[1042] To paint him in a word, Dudley was an
upright and downright man—a “piece of living justice.”
Sir Harry Vane did not tarry long in New England; arriving in 1635,
he went home in 1637 to lend his name and brains to the dawning
revolution, and to carve his spirit on the marble of the ages. But
short as was his sojourn on the west of the Atlantic, he stayed long
enough to achieve wide honor and to leave plain traces of his genius.
He, too, was a Pilgrim, and “it is a singular fact in the history of
New England, that, among her pioneers, were such men as Vane, well
born, well bred, and able to command a splendid career at home.”[1043]
“Sir Henry Vane the younger,” remarks Bancroft, “was a man of the
purest mind, and a statesman of the rarest integrity, whose name
the progress of intelligence and liberty will erase from the rubric
of fanatics and traitors, and insert high among the aspirants after
truth and the martyrs for liberty. Almost in his boyhood he had
valued the ‘obedience of the gospel’ more than the successful career
of English diplomacy, and he cheerfully ‘forsook the preferments of
the court of Charles for the ordinances of religion in their purity
in New England.’”[1044]
While here he was the warm friend of Roger Williams and Anne
Hutchinson; and when he went home he carried back with him the same
ardor for Christian truth which had impelled him to grasp hands with
Winthrop in the wilderness. He had a heart, and “he was happy in the
possession of an admirable genius, though naturally more inclined to
contemplative excellence than to action. He was happy, too, in the
eulogist of his virtues; for Milton, ever parsimonious of praise,
reserving the majesty of his verse to celebrate the glories and
vindicate the providence of God, was lavish of his encomiums on the
youthful friend of religious liberty. But Vane was still more happy
in attaining early in life a firmly-settled theory of morals, and
in possessing an energetic will, which made all his conduct to the
very last conform to the doctrines he had espoused, turning his dying
hour into a seal of witness, which his life had ever borne with noble
consistency to the freedom of conscience and the people. ‘If he were
not superior to Hampden,’ says Clarendon, ‘he was inferior to no
other man;’ ‘his whole life made good the imagination that there was
in him something extraordinary.’”[1045]
Bluff John Endicott was another of the famous characters whose
names and fame are impressed on the vellum of colonial history. He
is said to have been perhaps the finest specimen of the genuine
Puritan character to be found among the early governors. “He was
quick of temper, with strong religious feelings; resolute to uphold
with the sword what he had received as gospel truth; and feared no
enemy so much as a gainsaying spirit. He tore the cross out of the
English flag, cut down the May-pole at Merry-Mount, rakish Morton’s
sometime den, published his detestation of long hair in a formal
proclamation, and set dissenters in the pillory. Inferior to Winthrop
in learning—in comprehension to Vane—in tolerance even to Dudley—he
excelled them all in the keen eye to discern the fit moment for
action, in the quick resolve to profit by it, and in the hand always
ready to strike.”[1046]
These are a few of the central figures, the pivotal men, of the
first half dozen Pilgrim decades in New England. There are many more
almost equally eminent and worthy of immortal honor—Bradstreet, and
Hopkins, and Eaton, and the younger Winthrop. Here is an _embarras
des richesses_, and neither time nor space serves to name the
lengthened list of worthies who lent lustre and dignity to the
colonial annals. The best of them were the peers of the first men
of any age or country; and the worst more than met the requirements
of the Latins in their rulers: “The Roman people,” says Cicero,
“selected their magistrates as if they were to be stewards of the
republic. Proficiency in other departments, if it existed, they
gladly tolerated; but if such additional accomplishments were
lacking, they were content with the virtue and honesty of their
public servants.”[1047]
The Pilgrim governors were at least all honest, and virtuous,
and true; and they would have pleased those Thebans who made the
statues of their judges without hands, importing that they were no
takers, for these men too were guiltless of handling bribes. God
blessed colonial New England rarely when he sent her such men as a
benediction. But they are gone—Bradford, and Winthrop, and Carver,
and Dudley, and Vane, and Endicott.
——“Woe the day!
How mingles mightiest dust with meanest clay.”