Such was the aspect of the times when the folds of the Englishbanner, with the Red Cross in its field, were flung out over acompany of Puritans. Their leader, the famous Endicott, was a manof stern and resolute countenance, the effect of which washeightened by a grizzled beard that swept the upper portion ofhis breastplate. This piece of armor was so highly polished thatthe whole surrounding scene had its image in the glitteringsteel. The central object in the mirrored picture was an edificeof humble architecture with neither steeple nor bell to proclaimit--what nevertheless it was--the house of prayer. A token of theperils of the wilderness was seen in the grim head of a wolf,which had just been slain within the precincts of the town, andaccording to the regular mode of claiming the bounty, was nailedon the porch of the meeting-house. The blood was still plashingon the doorstep. There happened to be visible, at the samenoontide hour, so many other characteristics of the times andmanners of the Puritans, that we must endeavor to represent themin a sketch, though far less vividly than they were reflected inthe polished breastplate of John Endicott.
In close vicinity to the sacred edifice appeared that importantengine of Puritanic authority, the whipping-post--with the soilaround it well trodden by the feet of evil doers, who had therebeen disciplined. At one corner of the meeting-house was thepillory, and at the other the stocks; and, by a singular goodfortune for our sketch, the head of an Episcopalian and suspectedCatholic was grotesquely incased in the former machine while afellow-criminal, who had boisterously quaffed a health to theking, was confined by the legs in the latter. Side by side, onthe meeting-house steps, stood a male and a female figure. Theman was a tall, lean, haggard personification of fanaticism,bearing on his breast this label,--A WANTON GOSPELLER,--whichbetokened that he had dared to give interpretations of Holy Writunsanctioned by the infallible judgment of the civil andreligious rulers. His aspect showed no lack of zeal to maintainhis heterodoxies, even at the stake. The woman wore a cleft stickon her tongue, in appropriate retribution for having wagged thatunruly member against the elders of the church; and hercountenance and gestures gave much cause to apprehend that, themoment the stick should be removed, a repetition of the offencewould demand new ingenuity in chastising it.
The above-mentioned individuals had been sentenced to undergotheir various modes of ignominy, for the space of one hour atnoonday. But among the crowd were several whose punishment wouldbe life-long; some, whose ears had been cropped, like those ofpuppy dogs; others, whose cheeks had been branded with theinitials of their misdemeanors; one, with his nostrils slit andseared; and another, with a halter about his neck, which he wasforbidden ever to take off, or to conceal beneath his garments.Methinks he must have been grievously tempted to affix the otherend of the rope to some convenient beam or bough. There waslikewise a young woman, with no mean share of beauty, whose doomit was to wear the letter A on the breast of her gown, in theeyes of all the world and her own children. And even her ownchildren knew what that initial signified. Sporting with herinfamy, the lost and desperate creature had embroidered the fataltoken in scarlet cloth, with golden thread and the nicest art ofneedlework; so that the capital A might have been thought to meanAdmirable, or anything rather than Adulteress.
Let not the reader argue, from any of these evidences ofiniquity, that the times of the Puritans were more vicious thanour own, when, as we pass along the very street of this sketch,we discern no badge of infamy on man or woman. It was the policyof our ancestors to search out even the most secret sins, andexpose them to shame, without fear or favor, in the broadestlight of the noonday sun. Were such the custom now, perchance wemight find materials for a no less piquant sketch than the above.
Except the malefactors whom we have described, and the diseasedor infirm persons, the whole male population of the town, betweensixteen years and sixty, were seen in the ranks of the trainband.A few stately savages, in all the pomp and dignity of theprimeval Indian, stood gazing at the spectacle. Theirflint-headed arrows were but childish weapons compared with thematchlocks of the Puritans, and would have rattled harmlesslyagainst the steel caps and hammered iron breastplates whichinclosed each soldier in an individual fortress. The valiant JohnEndicott glanced with an eye of pride at his sturdy followers,and prepared to renew the martial toils of the day.
"Come, my stout hearts!" quoth he, drawing his sword. "Let usshow these poor heathen that we can handle our weapons like menof might. Well for them, if they put us not to prove it inearnest!"
The iron-breasted company straightened their line, and each mandrew the heavy butt of his matchlock close to his left foot, thusawaiting the orders of the captain. But, as Endicott glancedright and left along the front, he discovered a personage at somelittle distance with whom it behooved him to hold a parley. Itwas an elderly gentleman, wearing a black cloak and band, and ahigh-crowned hat, beneath which was a velvet skull-cap, the wholebeing the garb of a Puritan minister. This reverend person bore astaff which seemed to have been recently cut in the forest, andhis shoes were bemired as if he had been travelling on footthrough the swamps of the wilderness. His aspect was perfectlythat of a pilgrim, heightened also by an apostolic dignity. Justas Endicott perceived him he laid aside his staff, and stooped todrink at a bubbling fountain which gushed into the sunshine abouta score of yards from the corner of the meeting-house. But, erethe good man drank, he turned his face heavenward inthankfulness, and then, holding back his gray beard with onehand, he scooped up his simple draught in the hollow of theother.
"What, ho! good Mr. Williams," shouted Endicott. "You are welcomeback again to our town of peace. How does our worthy GovernorWinthrop? And what news from Boston?"
"The Governor hath his health, worshipful Sir," answered RogerWilliams, now resuming his staff, and drawing near. "And for thenews, here is a letter, which, knowing I was to travel hitherwardto-day, his Excellency committed to my charge. Belike it containstidings of much import; for a ship arrived yesterday fromEngland."
Mr. Williams, the minister of Salem and of course known to allthe spectators, had now reached the spot where Endicott wasstanding under the banner of his company, and put the Governor'sepistle into his hand. The broad seal was impressed withWinthrop's coat of arms. Endicott hastily unclosed the letter andbegan to read, while, as his eye passed down the page, a wrathfulchange came over his manly countenance. The blood glowed throughit, till it seemed to be kindling with an internal heat, nor wasit unnatural to suppose that his breastplate would likewisebecome red-hot with the angry fire of the bosom which it covered.Arriving at the conclusion, he shook the letter fiercely in hishand, so that it rustled as loud as the flag above his head.
"Black tidings these, Mr. Williams," said he; "blacker never cameto New England. Doubtless you know their purport?"
"Yea, truly," replied Roger Williams; "for the Governorconsulted, respecting this matter, with my brethren in theministry at Boston; and my opinion was likewise asked. And hisExcellency entreats you by me, that the news be not suddenlynoised abroad, lest the people be stirred up unto some outbreak,and thereby give the King and the Archbishop a handle againstus."
"The Governor is a wise man--a wise man, and a meek andmoderate," said Endicott, setting his teeth grimly."Nevertheless, I must do according to my own best judgment. Thereis neither man, woman, nor child in New England, but has aconcern as dear as life in these tidings; and if John Endicott'svoice be loud enough, man, woman, and child shall hear them.Soldiers, wheel into a hollow square! Ho, good people! Here arenews for one and all of you."
The soldiers closed in around their captain; and he and RogerWilliams stood together under the banner of the Red Cross; whilethe women and the aged men pressed forward, and the mothers heldup their children to look Endicott in the face. A few taps of thedrum gave signal for silence and attention.
"Fellow-soldiers--fellow-exiles," began Endicott, speaking understrong excitement, yet powerfully restraining it, "wherefore didye leave your native country? Wherefore, I say, have we left thegreen and fertile fields, the cottages, or, perchance, the oldgray halls, where we were born and bred, the churchyards whereour forefathers lie buried? Wherefore have we come hither to setup our own tombstones in a wilderness? A howling wilderness itis! The wolf and the bear meet us within halloo of our dwellings.The savage lieth in wait for us in the dismal shadow of thewoods. The stubborn roots of the trees break our ploughshares,when we would till the earth. Our children cry for bread, and wemust dig in the sands of the sea-shore to satisfy them.Wherefore, I say again, have we sought this country of a ruggedsoil and wintry sky? Was it not for the enjoyment of our civilrights? Was it not for liberty to worship God according to ourconscience?"
"Call you this liberty of conscience?" interrupted a voice on thesteps of the meeting-house.
It was the Wanton Gospeller. A sad and quiet smile flitted acrossthe mild visage of Roger Williams. But Endicott, in theexcitement of the moment, shook his sword wrathfully at theculprit--an ominous gesture from a man like him.
"What hast thou to do with conscience, thou knave?" cried he. "Isaid liberty to worship God, not license to profane and ridiculehim. Break not in upon my speech, or I will lay thee neck andheels till this time tomorrow! Hearken to me, friends, nor heedthat accursed rhapsodist. As I was saying, we have sacrificed allthings, and have come to a land whereof the old world hathscarcely heard, that we might make a new world unto ourselves,and painfully seek a path from hence to heaven. But what think yenow? This son of a Scotch tyrant--this grandson of a Papisticaland adulterous Scotch woman, whose death proved that a goldencrown doth not always save an anointed head from the block--"
"Nay, brother, nay," interposed Mr. Williams; "thy words are notmeet for a secret chamber, far less for a public street."
"Hold thy peace, Roger Williams!" answered Endicott, imperiously."My spirit is wiser than thine for the business now in hand. Itell ye, fellow-exiles, that Charles of England, and Laud, ourbitterest persecutor, arch-priest of Canterbury, are resolute topursue us even hither. They are taking counsel, saith thisletter, to send over a governor-general, in whose breast shall bedeposited all the law and equity of the land. They are minded,also, to establish the idolatrous forms of English Episcopacy; sothat, when Laud shall kiss the Pope's toe, as cardinal of Rome,he may deliver New England, bound hand and foot, into the powerof his master!
A deep groan from the auditors,--a sound of wrath, as well asfear and sorrow,--responded to this intelligence.
"Look ye to it, brethren," resumed Endicott, with increasingenergy. "If this king and this arch-prelate have their will, weshall briefly behold a cross on the spire of this tabernaclewhich we have builded, and a high altar within its walls, withwax tapers burning round it at noonday. We shall hear the sacringbell, and the voices of the Romish priests saying the mass. Butthink ye, Christian men, that these abominations may be sufferedwithout a sword drawn? without a shot fired? without blood spilt,yea, on the very stairs of the pulpit? No,--be ye strong of handand stout of heart! Here we stand on our own soil, which we havebought with our goods, which we have won with our swords, whichwe have cleared with our axes, which we have tilled with thesweat of our brows, which we have sanctified with our prayers tothe God that brought us hither! Who shall enslave us here? Whathave we to do with this mitred prelate,--with this crowned king?What have we to do with England?"
Endicott gazed round at the excited countenances of the people,now full of his own spirit, and then turned suddenly to thestandard-bearer, who stood close behind him.
"Officer, lower your banner!" said he.
The officer obeyed; and, brandishing his sword, Endicott thrustit through the cloth, and, with his left hand, rent the Red Crosscompletely out of the banner. He then waved the tattered ensignabove his head.
"Sacrilegious wretch!" cried the high-churchman in the pillory,unable longer to restrain himself, "thou hast rejected the symbolof our holy religion!"
"Treason, treason!" roared the royalist in the stocks. "He hathdefaced the King's banner!"
"Before God and man, I will avouch the deed," answered Endicott."Beat a flourish, drummerin honorof the ensign of New England. Neither Pope nor Tyrant hath partin it now!"
With a cry of triumph, the people gave their sanction to one ofthe boldest exploits which our history records. And foreverhonored be the name of Endicott! We look back through the mist ofages, and recognize in the rending of the Red Cross from NewEngland's banner the first omen of that deliverance which ourfathers consummated after the bones of the stern Puritan had lainmore than a century in the dust.
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