’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
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:
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,
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.