He dared not look upon.
EDITH.
As persecuted,
Yet not forsaken; as unknown, yet known;
As dying, and behold we are alive; 220
As sorrowful, and yet rejoicing always;
As having nothing, yet possessing all!
WHARTON.
And Leddra, too, is dead. But from his prison,
The day before his death, he sent these words
Unto the little flock of Christ: “Whatever 225
May come upon the followers of the Light, —
Distress, affliction, famine, nakedness,
Or perils in the city or the sea,
Or persecution, or even death itself, —
I am persuaded that God’s armor of Light, 230
As it is loved and lived in, will preserve you.
Yea, death itself; through which you will find entrance
Into the pleasant pastures of the fold,
Where you shall feed forever as the herds
That roam at large in the low valleys of Achor. 235
And as the flowing of the ocean fills
Each creek and branch thereof, and then retires,
Leaving behind a sweet and wholesome savor;
So doth the virtue and the life of God
Flow evermore into the hearts of those 240
Whom he hath made partakers of his nature;
And, when it but withdraws itself a little,
Leaves a sweet savor after it, that many
Can say they are made clean by every word
That He hath spoken to them in their silence.” 245
EDITH (rising and breaking into a kind of chant).
Truly we do but grope here in the dark,
Near the partition-wall of Life and Death,
At every moment dreading or desiring
To lay our hands upon the unseen door!
Let us, then, labor for an inward stillness, — 250
An inward stillness and an inward healing;
That perfect silence where the lips and heart
Are still, and we no longer entertain
Our own imperfect thoughts and vain opinions,
But God alone speaks in us, and we wait 255
In singleness of heart, that we may know
His will, and in the silence of our spirits,
That we may do His will, and do that only!
A long pause, interrupted by the sound of a drum approaching; then shouts in the street, and a loud knocking at the door.
MARSHAL.
Within there! Open the door!
MERRY.
Will no one answer?
MARSHAL.
In the King’s name! Within there!
MERRY.
Open the door! 260
UPSALL (from the window).
It is not barred. Come in. Nothing prevents you.
The poor man’s door is ever on the latch.
He needs no bolt nor bar to shut out thieves;
He fears no enemies, and has no friends
Importunate enough to need a key. 265
Enter JOHN ENDICOTT, the MARSHAL, MERRY, and a crowd. Seeing the Quakers silent and unmoved, they pause, awe-struck. ENDICOTT opposite EDITH.
MARSHAL.
In the King’s name do I arrest you all!
Away with them to prison. Master Upsall,
You are again discovered harboring here
These ranters and disturbers of the peace.
You know the law.
UPSALL.
I know it, and am ready 270
To suffer yet again its penalties.
EDITH (to ENDICOTT).
Why dost thou persecute me, Saul of Tarsus?
Act II
SCENE I. — JOHN ENDICOTT’S room. Early morning.
JOHN ENDICOTT.
“WHY dost thou persecute me, Saul of Tarsus?”
All night these words were ringing in mine ears!
A sorrowful sweet face; a look that pierced me
With meek reproach; a voice of resignation
That had a life of suffering in its tone; 5
And that was all! And yet I could not sleep,
Or, when I slept, I dreamed that awful dream!
I stood beneath the elm-tree on the Common
On which the Quakers have been hanged, and heard
A voice, not hers, that cried amid the darkness, 10
“This is Aceldama, the field of blood!
I will have mercy, and not sacrifice!”
Opens the window, and looks out.
The sun is up already; and my heart
Sickens and sinks within me when I think
How may tragedies will be enacted 15
Before his setting. As the earth rolls round,
It seems to me a huge Ixion’s wheel,
Upon whose whirling spokes we are bound fast,
And must go with it! Ah, how bright the sun
Strikes on the sea and on the masts of vessels, 20
That are uplifted in the morning air,
Like crosses of some peaceable crusade!
It makes me long to sail for lands unknown,
No matter whither! Under me, in shadow,
Gloomy and narrow lies the little town, 25
Still sleeping, but to wake and toil awhile,
Then sleep again. How dismal looks the prison,
How grim and sombre in the sunless street, —
The prison where she sleeps, or wakes and waits
For what I dare not think of, — death, perhaps! 30
A word that has been said may be unsaid:
It is but air. But when a deed is done
It cannot be undone, nor can our thoughts
Reach out to all the mischiefs that may follow.
‘T is time for morning prayers. I will go down. 35
My father, though severe, is kind and just;
And when his heart is tender with devotion, —
When from his lips have fallen the words, “Forgive us
As we forgive,” — then will I intercede
For these poor people, and perhaps may save them. [Exit. 40
SCENE II. — Dock Square. On one side, the tavern of the Three Mariners. In the background, a quaint building with gables; and, beyond it, wharves and shipping. CAPTAIN KEMPTHORN and others seated at a table before the door. SAMUEL COLE standing near them.
KEMPTHORN.
Come, drink about! Remember Parson Melham,
And bless the man who first invented flip!
They drink.
COLE.
Pray, Master Kempthorn, where were you last night?
KEMPTHORN.
On board the Swallow, Simon Kempthorn, master,
Up for Barbadoes, and the Windward Islands. 45
COLE.
The town was in a tumult.
KEMPTHORN.
And for what?
COLE.
Your Quakers were arrested.
KEMPTHORN.
How my Quakers?
COLE.
Those you brought in your vessel from Barbadoes.
They made an uproar in the Meeting-house
Yesterday, and they ‘re now in prison for it. 50
I owe you little thanks for bringing them
To the Three Mariners.
KEMPTHORN.
They have not harmed you.
I tell you, Goodman Cole, that Quaker girl
Is precious as a sea-bream’s eye. I tell you
It was a lucky day when first she set 55
Her little foot upon the Swallow’s deck,
Bringing good luck, fair winds, and pleasant weather.
COLE.
I am a law-abiding citizen;
I have a seat in the new Meeting-house,
A cow-right on the Common; and, besides, 60
Am corporal in the Great Artillery.
I rid me of the vagabonds at once.
KEMPTHORN.
Why should you not have Quakers at your tavern
If you have fiddlers?
COLE.
Never! never! never!
If you want fiddling you must go elsewhere, 65
To the Green Dragon and the Admiral Vernon,
And other such disreputable places.
But the Three Mariners is an orderly house,
Most orderly, quiet, and respectable.
Lord Leigh said he could be as quiet here 70
As at the Governor’s. And have I not
King Charles’s Twelve Good Rules, all framed and glazed,
Hanging in my best parlor?
KEMPTHORN.
Here ‘s a health
To good King Charles. Will you not drink the King?
Then drink confusion to old Parson Palmer. 75
COLE.
And who is Parson Palmer? I don’t know him.
KEMPTHORN.
He had his cellar underneath his pulpit,
And so preached o’er his liquor, just as you do.
A drum within.
COLE.
Here comes the Marshal.
MERRY (within).
Make room for the Marshal. 80
KEMPTHORN.
How pompous and imposing he appears!
His great buff doublet bellying like a mainsail,
And all his streamers fluttering in the wind.
What holds he in his hand?
COLE.
A proclamation. 85
Enter the MARSHAL, with a proclamation; and MERRY, with a halberd. They are preceded by a drummer, and followed by the hangman, with an armful of books, and a crowd of people, among whom are UPSALL and JOHN ENDICOTT. A pile is made of the books.
MERRY.
Silence, the drum! Good citizens, attend
To the new laws enacted by the Court.
MARSHAL (reads).
“Whereas a cursed sect of Heretics
Has lately risen, commonly called Quakers,
Who take upon themselves to be commissioned 90
Immediately of God, and furthermore
Infallibly assisted by the Spirit
To write and utter blasphemous opinions,
Despising Government and the order of God
In Church and Commonwealth, and speaking evil 95
Of Dignities, reproaching and reviling
The Magistrates and Ministers, and seeking
To turn the people from their faith, and thus
Gain proselytes to their pernicious ways; —
This Court, considering the premises, 100
And to prevent like mischief as is wrought
By their means in our land, doth hereby order,
That whatsoever master or commander
Of any ship, bark, pink, or catch shall bring
To any roadstead, harbor, creek, or cove 105
Within this Jurisdiction any Quakers,
Or other blasphemous Heretics, shall pay
Unto the Treasurer of the Commonwealth
One hundred pounds, and for default thereof
Be put in prison, and continue there 110
Till the said sum be satisfied and paid.”
COLE.
Now, Simon Kempthorn, what say you to that?
KEMPTHORN.
I pray you, Cole, lend me a hundred pounds!
MARSHAL (reads).
“If any one within this Jurisdiction
Shall henceforth entertain, or shall conceal 115
Quakers, or other blasphemous Heretics,
Knowing them so to be, every such person
Shall forfeit to the country forty shillings
For each hour’s entertainment or concealment,
And shall be sent to prison, as aforesaid, 120
Until the forfeiture be wholly paid.”
Murmurs in the crowd.
KEMPTHORN.
Now, Goodman Cole, I think your turn has come!
COLE.
Knowing them so to be!
KEMPTHORN.
At forty shillings
The hour, your fine will be some forty pounds!
COLE.
Knowing them so to be! That is the law. 125
MARSHAL (reads).
“And it is further ordered and enacted,
If any Quaker or Quakers shall presume
To come henceforth into this Jurisdiction,
Every male Quaker for the first offence
Shall have one ear cut off; and shall be kept 130
At labor in the Workhouse, till such time
As he be sent away at his own charge.
And for the repetition of the offence
Shall have his other ear cut off, and then
Be branded in the palm of his right hand. 135
And every woman Quaker shall be whipt
Severely in three towns; and every Quaker,
Or he or she, that shall for a third time
Herein again offend, shall have their tongues
Bored through with a hot iron, and shall be 140
Sentenced to Banishment on pain of Death.”
Loud murmurs. The voice of CHRISTISON in the crowd.
O patience of the Lord! How long, how long,
Ere thou avenge the blood of Thine Elect?
MERRY.
Silence, there, silence! Do not break the peace!
MARSHAL (reads).
“Every inhabitant of this Jurisdiction 145
Who shall defend the horrible opinions
Of Quakers, by denying due respect
To equals and superiors, and withdrawing
From Church Assemblies, and thereby approving
The abusive and destructive practices 150
Of this accursed sect, in opposition
To all the orthodox received opinions
Of godly men, shall be forthwith committed
Unto close prison for one month; and then
Refusing to retract and to reform 155
The opinions as aforesaid, he shall be
Sentenced to Banishment on pain of Death.
By the Court. Edward Rawson, Secretary.”
Now, hangman, do your duty. Burn those books.
Loud murmurs in the crowd. The pile of books is lighted.
UPSALL.
I testify against these cruel laws! 160
Forerunners are they of some judgment on us;
And, in the love and tenderness I bear
Unto this town and people, I beseech you,
O Magistrates, take heed, lest ye be found
As fighters against God!
JOHN ENDICOTT (taking UPSALL’S hand).
Upsall, I thank you 165
For speaking words such as some younger man,
I, or another, should have said before you.
Such laws as these are cruel and oppressive;
A blot on this fair town, and a disgrace
To any Christian people.
MERRY (aside, listening behind them).
Here ‘s sedition! 170
I never thought that any good would come
Of this young popinjay, with his long hair
And his great boots, fit only for the Russians
Or barbarous Indians, as his father says!
THE VOICE.
Woe to the bloody town! And rightfully 175
Men call it the Lost Town! The blood of Abel
Cries from the ground, and at the final judgment
The Lord will say, “Cain, Cain! where is thy brother?”
MERRY.
Silence there in the crowd!
UPSALL (aside).
‘T is Christison!
THE VOICE.
O foolish people, ye that think to burn 180
And to consume the truth of God, I tell you
That every flame is a loud tongue of fire
To publish it abroad to all the world
Louder than tongues of men!
KEMPTHORN (springing to his feet.)
Well said, my hearty!
There ‘s a brave fellow! There ‘s a man of pluck! 185
A man who ‘s not afraid to say his say,
Though a whole town ‘s against him. Rain, rain, rain,
Bones of St. Botolph, and put out this fire!
The drum beats. Exeunt all but MERRY, KEMPTHORN, and COLE.
MERRY.
And now that matter ‘s ended, Goodman Cole,
Fetch me a mug of ale, your strongest ale. 190
KEMPTHORN (sitting down).
And me another mug of flip; and put
Two gills of brandy in it. [Exit COLE.
MERRY.
No; no more.
Not a drop more, I say. You ‘ve had enough.
KEMPTHORN.
And who are you, sir?
MERRY.
I ‘m a Tithing-man,
And Merry is my name.
KEMPTHORN.
A merry name! 195
I like it; and I ‘ll drink your merry health
Till all is blue.
MERRY.
And then you will be clapped
Into the stocks, with the red letter D
Hung round about your neck for drunkenness.
You ‘re a free-drinker, — yes, and a freethinker! 200
KEMPTHORN.
And you are Andrew Merry, or Merry Andrew.
MERRY.
My name is Walter Merry, and not Andrew.
KEMPTHORN.
Andrew or Walter, you ‘re a merry fellow;
I ‘ll swear to that.
MERRY.
No swearing, let me tell you.
The other day one Shorthose had his tongue 205
Put into a cleft stick for profane swearing.
COLE brings the ale.
KEMPTHORN.
Well, where ‘s my flip? As sure as my name ‘s Kempthorn —
MERRY.
Is your name Kempthorn?
KEMPTHORN.
That ‘s the name I go by.
Delphi Complete Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (Delphi Poets Series Book 13) Page 111
