“And do you call that honest, Mr. Woodburn?” asked Thorsby.
“Yes, perfectly so, in his case. The law was expressly stated, in the preamble to the act, to be for the prosecution of the war. Mr. Fairfax, as a Quaker, has a decided objection to war, as unchristian. He could not pay it; but he was quite ready to allow the law to take his property for that purpose. He was willing to suffer, though he could not conscientiously pay the tax voluntarily. Well, what was the consequence? Distraints were made repeatedly on his goods for the amount. Nobody would buy them; and they were always bought back at the expiration of the number of days prescribed by law. At length the Commissioners sent for him. William Fairfax walked into their presence without his hat, and with his right-hand, as usual, thrust into his waistcoat.
“‘Mr. Fairfax,’ said the clerk to the Commissioners—a man of very dubious character, I must say—‘Mr. Fairfax, what trouble you give us. It is the law of the land, and you must obey it.’
“‘If,’ said Mr. Fairfax, ‘Parliament passes an act to set up Nebuchadnezzar’s image again, wouldst bow down to it?’
“‘No,’ said the clerk. ‘I would fly my country first!’
“‘Yes, the wicked flee when no man pursueth,’ said Mr. Fairfax, quietly; ‘the righteous stands his ground as bold as a lion.’
“Mr. Fairfax stood erect, grave, and without moving a muscle, in the midst of the circle of Commissioners, who burst into a roar of laughter at the hard hit which their lawyer clerk had received. William Fairfax walked unmoved out of the room, and a few weeks after the act was repealed. He never paid a penny of it.”
“Then I think he should,” said Thorsby.
“I don’t,” said Mr. Woodburn. “I think every man should stand boldly by his conscientious convictions. Mr. Fairfax did not care a straw about the amount of the tax. It was the public of Castleborough, doing homage to his uprightness, that refused to mulct him with the tax and the costs of the distraint. I could tell you many other remarkable acts of this genuine Quaker, as far from any cant or selfishness as Pole is from Pole; but I see George standing with a proposition in his face.”
“Yes,” said George, “it is a most delicious forenoon. The air is blowing charmingly, and tempers the heat. I am going to Hillmartin and a little beyond, and I want you, Letty, to mount Fairaway, and have a gallop in the breeze. It is what you want to take the dismals out of your blood. Ann, what say you?”