“To Our trusty and well-beloved John Endicott, Esquire, &c.
“By his Majesty’s Command,
“William Morris.”
The bearer of this mandate from the King was one of the banished Quakers, formerly of Salem; and when he appeared at Gov. Endicott’s house, on Pemberton Square, was admitted to the presence, and ordered to take his hat off; and on receiving the mandamus the Governor took his own hat off (which he probably put on to receive his callers). After reading the document, he went out and bade the two Friends to follow him, and proceeded to consult, as it appeared, with Lieut.-Gov. Willoughby (not Bellingham, as some writers have it). His answer was, “We shall obey his majesty’s command.” So far as hanging was forbidden, the command was obeyed. The formality of sending Commissioners to England to defend and justify the measures of the colony was adopted, but never amounted to any thing.
The laws against the Quakers were afterwards revived to the extent of whipping, limited to “through three towns only;” and perhaps they did not choose to regard this display as “capital or corporal punishment.”
In May, 1664, Edward Wharton, of Salem, being in Boston, a Quaker meeting was held, when a warrant was issued for his arrest: but the meeting being over, he was found at a friend’s house; was arrested; the next day whipped, and sent to the constable at Lynn, to be whipped there, and then sent to Salem. In one instance, a girl, eleven years of age, allowing herself to be a Quaker, whether she knew what the word meant or not, was sent to prison, and afterwards brought before the great and dignified Court. The Court speak of “the malice of Satan and his instruments,” and determine that as “Satan is put to his shifts to make use of such a child, not being of the years of discretion, it is judged meet so far to slight her as a Quaker, as only to admonish and instruct her according to her capacity, and so discharge her.” Hutchinson says, “It would have been horrible, if there had been any further severity.”
In 1665, additional laws were made, or orders passed, levying a fine of ten shillings for attending a Quaker meeting, and five pounds for speaking at one; and, in the same year, the penalty of death was revived against all Quakers who should return to the colony after they had been banished. Some persons ventured to express their dissent with regard to some of these laws, and, probably owing to their respectability, escaped punishment; but Nicholas Upsall, who had shown compassion to some Quakers while in prison, in 1656-57, was fined and banished, and endured incredible hardships. Three years later, in 1660, he returned, and was again thrown into prison, and died in 1666.
The laws against Quakers and heretics were published in Boston “with beat of drum through its streets.” We presume they were read after the town-crier fashion of later days.
In 1677, when the toleration of the Quakers was thought to be one of the sins which brought on the Indian war, as a punishment, the Court ordered, “That every person found at a Quaker’s meeting shall be apprehended ex officio, by the constable, and, by warrant from a magistrate or commissioner, shall be committed to the House of Correction, and there have the discipline of the house applied to them, and be kept to work, with bread and water, for three days, and then released, or else shall pay five pounds in money, as a fine to the country, for such offence, and all constables neglecting their duty, in not faithfully executing this order, shall incur the penalty of five pounds, upon conviction, one third thereof to the informer.”
Upon this remarkable order, Hutchinson declares, “I know of nothing which can be urged as in anywise tending to excuse the severity of this law, unless it be human infirmity,” and, he adds, the practices of other religious sects who are persuaded that the indulgence of any other “was a toleration of impiety” and brought down the judgments of heaven. This law cost the colony many friends.
Soon after this a party was arrested and “whipped at the cart’s tail up and down the town with twenty lashes.” On the same day, fourteen Quakers were arrested at a meeting, and twelve of them whipped: the other two had their fines paid by their friends. At the next meeting, fourteen or fifteen more, including some strangers, were arrested and whipped. And yet the Quakers continued their meetings; and, finally, one of them was so large, that, as it is said, “fearfulness surprised the hypocrites,” and the meeting was not molested.[6]