Yesterday a strange thing happened in the meeting-house. The minister had gone on in his discourse, until the sand in the hour-glass on the rails before the deacons had wellnigh run out, and Deacon Dole was about turning it, when suddenly I saw the congregation all about me give a great start, and look back. A young woman, barefooted, and with a coarse canvas frock about her, and her long hair hanging loose like a periwig, and sprinkled with ashes, came walking up the south aisle. Just as she got near Uncle Rawson's seat she stopped, and turning round towards the four corners of the house, cried out: "Woe to the persecutors! Woe to them who for a pretence make long prayers! Humble yourselves, for this is the day of the Lord's power, and I am sent as a sign among you!" As she looked towards me I knew her to be the Quaker maiden, Margaret Brewster. "Where is the constable?" asked Mr. Richardson. "Let the woman be taken out." Thereupon the whole congregation arose, and there was a great uproar, men and women climbing the seats, and many crying out, some one thing and some another. In the midst of the noise, Mr. Sewall, getting up on a bench, begged the people to be quiet, and let the constable lead out the poor deluded creature. Mr. Richardson spake to the same effect, and, the tumult a little subsiding, I saw them taking the young woman out of the door; and, as many followed her, I went out also, with my brother, to see what became of her.
We found her in the middle of a great crowd of angry people, who reproached her for her wickedness in disturbing the worship on the Lord's day, calling her all manner of foul names, and threatening her with the stocks and the whipping-post. The poor creature stood still and quiet; she was deathly pale, and her wild hair and sackcloth frock gave her a very strange and pitiable look. The constable was about to take her in charge until the morrow, when Robert Pike came forward, and said he would answer for her appearance at the court the next day, and besought the people to let her go quietly to her home, which, after some parley, was agreed to. Robert then went up to her, and taking her hand, asked her to go with him. She looked up, and being greatly touched by his kindness, began to weep, telling him that it had been a sorrowful cross to her to do as she had done; but that it had been long upon her mind, and that she did feel a relief now that she had found strength for obedience. He, seeing the people still following, hastened her, away, and we all went back to the meeting-house. In the afternoon, Mr. Richardson gave notice that he should preach, next Lord's day, from the 12th and 13th verses of Jude, wherein the ranters and disturbers of the present day were very plainly spoken of. This morning she hath been had before the magistrates, who, considering her youth and good behavior hitherto, did not proceed against her so far as many of the people desired. A fine was laid upon her, which both she and her father did profess they could not in conscience pay, whereupon she was ordered to be set in the stocks; but this Mr. Sewall, Robert Pike, and my brother would by no means allow, but paid the fine themselves, so that she was set at liberty, whereat the boys and rude women were not a little disappointed, as they had thought to make sport of her in the stocks. Mr. Pike, I hear, did speak openly in her behalf before the magistrates, saying that it was all along of the cruel persecution of these people that did drive them to such follies and breaches of the peace, Mr. Richardson, who hath heretofore been exceeding hard upon the Quakers, did, moreover, speak somewhat in excuse of her conduct, believing that she was instigated by her elders; and he therefore counselled the court that she should not be whipped,
August 1.
Captain Sewall, R. Pike, and the minister, Mr. Richardson, at our house to-day. Captain Sewall, who lives mostly at Boston, says that a small vessel loaded with negroes, taken on the Madagascar coast, came last week into the harbor, and that the owner thereof had offered the negroes for sale as slaves, and that they had all been sold to magistrates, ministers, and other people of distinction in Boston and thereabouts. He said the negroes were principally women and children, and scarcely alive, by reason of their long voyage and hard fare. He thought it a great scandal to the Colony, and a reproach to the Church, that they should be openly trafficked, like cattle in the market. Uncle Rawson said it was not so formerly; for he did remember the case of Captain Smith and one Kesar, who brought negroes from Guinea thirty years ago. The General Court, urged thereto by Sir Richard Saltonstall and many of the ministers, passed an order that, for the purpose of "bearing a witness against the heinous sin of man-stealing, justly abhorred of all good and just men," the negroes should be taken back to their own country at the charge of the Colony; which was soon after done. Moreover, the two men, Smith and Kesar, were duly punished.
Mr. Richardson said he did make a distinction between the stealing of men from a nation at peace with us, and the taking of captives in war. The Scriptures did plainly warrant the holding of such, and especially if they be heathen.
Captain Sewall said he did, for himself, look upon all slave-holding as contrary to the Gospel and the New Dispensation. The Israelites had a special warrant for holding the heathen in servitude; but he had never heard any one pretend that he had that authority for enslaving Indians and blackamoors.
Hereupon Mr. Richardson asked him if he did not regard Deacon Dole as a godly man; and if he had aught to say against him and other pious men who held slaves. And he cautioned him to be careful, lest he should be counted an accuser of the brethren.
Here Robert Pike said he would tell of a matter which had fallen under his notice. "Just after the war was over," said be, "owing to the loss of my shallop in the Penobscot Bay, I chanced to be in the neighborhood of him they call the Baron of Castine, who hath a strong castle, with much cleared land and great fisheries at Byguyduce. I was preparing to make a fire and sleep in the woods, with my two men, when a messenger came from the Baron, saying that his master, hearing that strangers were in the neighborhood, had sent him to offer us food and shelter, as the night was cold and rainy. So without ado we went with him, and were shown into a comfortable room in a wing of the castle, where we found a great fire blazing, and a joint of venison with wheaten loaves on the table. After we had refreshed ourselves, the Baron sent for me, and I was led into a large, fair room, where he was, with Modockawando, who was his father-in-law, and three or four other chiefs of the Indians, together with two of his priests. The Baron, who was a man of goodly appearance, received me with much courtesy; and when I told him my misfortune, he said he was glad it was in his power to afford us a shelter. He discoursed about the war, which he said had been a sad thing to the whites as well as the Indians, but that he now hoped the peace would be lasting. Whereupon, Modockawando, a very grave and serious heathen, who had been sitting silent with his friends, got up and spoke a load speech to me, which I did not understand, but was told that he did complain of the whites for holding as slaves sundry Indian captives, declaring that it did provoke another war. His own sister's child, he said, was thus held in captivity. He entreated me to see the great Chief of our people (meaning the Governor), and tell him that the cries of the captives were heard by his young men, and that they were talking of digging up the hatchet which the old men had buried at Casco. I told the old savage that I did not justify the holding of Indians after the peace, and would do what I could to have them set at liberty, at which he seemed greatly rejoiced. Since I came back from Castine's country, I have urged the giving up of the Indians, and many have been released. Slavery is a hard lot, and many do account it worse than death. When in the Barbadoes, I was told that on one plantation, in the space of five years, a score of slaves had hanged themselves."
"Mr. Atkinson's Indian," said Captain Sewall, "whom he bought of a Virginia ship-owner, did, straightway on coming to his house, refuse meat; and although persuasions and whippings were tried to make him eat, he would not so much as take a sip of drink. I saw him a day or two before he died, sitting wrapped up in his blanket, and muttering to himself. It was a sad, sight, and I pray God I may never see the like again. From that time I have looked upon the holding of men as slaves as a great wickedness. The Scriptures themselves do testify, that he that leadeth into captivity shall go into captivity."
After the company had gone, Rebecca sat silent and thoughtful for a time, and then bade her young serving-girl, whom her father had bought, about a year before, of the master of a Scotch vessel, and who had been sold to pay the cost of her passage, to come to her. She asked her if she had aught to complain of in her situation. The poor girl looked surprised, but said she had not. "Are you content to live as a servant?" asked Rebecca. "Would you leave me if you could?" She here fell a-weeping, begging her mistress not to speak of her leaving. "But if I should tell you that you are free to go or stay, as you will, would you be glad or sorry?" queried her mistress. The poor girl was silent. "I do not wish you to leave me, Effie," said Rebecca, "but I wish you to know that you are from henceforth free, and that if you serve me hereafter, as I trust you will, it will be in love and good will, and for suitable wages." The bondswoman did not at the first comprehend the design of her mistress, but, on hearing it explained once more, she dropped down on her knees, and clasping Rebecca, poured forth her thanks after the manner of her people; whereupon Rebecca, greatly moved, bade her rise, as she had only done what the Scriptures did require, in giving to her servant that which is just and equal.