On Saturday evenings the people look sour and sad; on the Sabbath they appear to have lost their dearest friends, and are almost speechless; they walk softly; they even observe it with more exactness than did the Jews. A Quaker preacher told them, with much truth, that they worshipped the Sabbath, and not the God of the Sabbath. These hospitable people, without charity, condemned the Quaker as a blasphemer of the holy Sabbath, fined, tarred, and feathered him, put a rope about his neck, and plunged him into the sea; but he escaped with life, though he was about seventy years of age.
In 1750 an episcopal clergyman, born and educated in England, who had been in holy orders above twenty years, once broke their sabbatical law by combing a discomposed lock of hair on the top of his wig; at another time, for making a humming noise, which they called whistling; at a third time, by walking too fast from church; at a fourth, by running into church when it rained; at a fifth, by walking in his garden and picking a bunch of grapes: for which several crimes he was complained of by the Grand Jury, had warrants granted against him, was seized, brought to trial, and paid a considerable sum of money. At last, overwhelmed with persecution and vexation, he cried out: “No Briton, nay, no Jew, should assume any public character in Connecticut till he has served an apprenticeship of ten years in it; for I have been here seven years, and strictly observed the Jewish law concerning the Sabbath, yet find myself remiss in respect to the perfect law of liberty!”
The people are extremely fond of strangers passing through the colony, but very averse to foreigners settling among them; which few have done without ruin to their characters and fortunes, by detraction and lawsuits, unless recommended as men of grace by some known and revered republican protestant in Europe. The following story may be amusing:
An English gentleman, during a short residence in a certain town, had the good luck to receive some civilities from the Deacon, Minister, and Justice. The Deacon had a daughter, without beauty, but sensible and rich. The Briton (for that was the name he went by), having received a present from the West-Indies of some pineapples and sweetmeats, sent his servant with part of it to the Deacon’s daughter, to whom, at the same time, he addressed a complimentary note, begging Miss would accept the pineapples and sweetmeats, and wishing he might be able to make her a better present. Miss, on reading the note, was greatly alarmed, and exclaimed, “Mamma, mamma! Mr. Briton has sent me a love-letter.” The mother read the note and shewed it to the Deacon, and, after due consideration, both agreed in pronouncing it a love-letter. The lawyer, justice, and parson were sent for, who in council weighed every word in the note, together with the golden temptation which the lady possessed, and were of opinion that the writer was in love, and that the note was a love-letter, but worded so carefully that the law could not punish Briton for attempting to court Miss without having obtained her parents’ consent. The parson wrung his hands, rolled up his eyes, shrugged up his shoulders, groaned out his hypocritical grief, and said, “Deacon, I hope you do not
blame me for having been the innocent cause of your knowing this imprudent and haughty Briton. There is something very odd in all the Britons; but I thought this man had some prudence and modesty however, Deacon,” putting his hand on his breast, and bowing, with a pale, deceitful face, “I shall in future shun all Britons, for they are all strange creatures.” The lawyer and justice made their apologies, and were sorry that Briton did not consider the quality of the Deacon’s daughter before he wrote the letter. Miss, all apprehension and tears, at finding that no punishment could reach Briton in the course of law, cried out to her counsellors, “Who is Briton? Am I not the Deacon’s daughter? What have I done, that he should take such liberties with me? Is he not the natural son of some priest, or foundling? Ought he not to be exposed for his assurance to the Deacon’s daughter?”
Her words took effect. The council voted that they would show their contempt of Briton by neglecting him for the time to come. On his return home, the parson, after many great signs of surprise, informed his wife of the awful event which had happened by the imprudence of Briton. She soon communicated the secret to her sister-gossips, prudently cautioning them not to report it as from her. But, not content with that, the parson himself went among all his acquaintance, shaking his head, and saying, “O sirs! have you heard of the strange conduct of friend Briton—how he wrote a love-letter, and sent it, with some pineapples, to the Deacon’s daughter? My wife and I had a great friendship for Briton, but cannot see him any more.”
Thus the affected parson told this important tale to
every one except Briton, who, from his ignorance of the story, conducted himself in his usual manner towards his supposed friends, though he observed they had a show of haste and business whenever he met with any of them. Happily for Briton, he depended not on the Deacon, minister, or colony, for his support. At last a Scotchman heard of the evil tale, and generously told Briton of it, adding that the parson was supposed to be in deep decline merely from grief and fatigue he had endured in spreading it. Briton thanked the Scotchman, and called on the friendly parson to know the particulars of his offence. The parson, with sighs, bows, and solemn smirkings, answered, “Sir, the fact is, you wrote a love-letter to the Deacon’s daughter without asking her parents’ consent; which has given great offence to that lady, and to all her acquaintance, of whom I and my wife have the honour to be reckoned a part.” Briton kept his temper. “So, then,” said he, “I have offended you by my insolent note to the Deacon’s daughter! I hope my sin is venial. Pray, sir, have you seen my note?” “Yes,” replied the parson, “to my grief and sorrow. I could not have thought you so imprudent, had I not seen and found the note to be your own handwriting.” “How long have you known of this offence?” “Some months.” “Why, sir, did you not seasonably admonish me for this crime?” “I was so hurt and grieved, and my friendship so great, I could not bear to tell you.” Mr. Briton then told the parson that his friendship was so fine and subtle, it was invisible to an English eye; and the Gospel ministers in England did not prove their friendship by telling calumnious stories to everybody
but the person concerned. “But I suppose,” added he, “this is genuine New-England friendship, and merits thanks more than a supple-jack.” The parson, with a leering look, sneaked away towards his wife; and Briton left the colony without any civil or ecclesiastical punishment, telling the Scotchman that the Deacon’s daughter had money, and the parson faith without eyes, or he should never have been accused of making love to one who was naturally so great an enemy to Cupid. Of such or worse sort being the reception foreign settlers may expect from the inhabitants of Connecticut, it is no wonder that few, or none, choose to venture among them.
The custom of settling and dismissing a sober dissenting minister is very singular. All the parishioners meet and vote to apply to the Association for a candidate, and one is accordingly sent. If he pleases, the people vote to give him a call; if he accepts the call, the actual communicants, and they alone, make the covenant between him and them as Christ’s Church, and thus they are married to him. After the candidate is ordained, others, by acknowledging and swearing to support the covenant, become married to him also. (N. B. Baptism is not sufficient to take them out of their natural state.) The call is an invitation from the parishioners to the candidate to take upon him the ministerial office of their Church, on condition that he be allowed 300l. or 400l. settlement, and perhaps 100l. salary, besides wood, &c. &c. during his residence among them in that capacity. The candidate, after looking round him and finding no better terms offered from any other parish, answers in this manner: “Brethren