 | CHAPTER IV. The doomed chief, or, Two hundred years ago |  |
4. CHAPTER IV.
Too grave, his prayers too long, his charities
Too pompously attended, and his speech
Larded too frequently, and out of time,
With serious phraseology,—were rents
That in his garments opened in spite of him,
Through which the well accustomed eye could see
The rottenness of his heart.”
Pollock's Hypocrite.
Night had now cast its sable mantle over the earth, and the
tumults of the day and the strong passions of human throngs
had subsided in the darkness. But soon the great, round
moon came rolling up from behind the seemingly long, watery
mound that bounded the sea-ward limits of the scene; and
anon the whole extended view of land and waters, first gradually
disclosed in the clustering pencils of her mellow beams,
shooting athwart the broad expanse of the sleeping bay, and
then tipping with silvered fringes the varied objects of the
surrounding shore, stood revealed in all the solemn splendors
of a moon-lit land-scape.
Perhaps there is no scene or situation that so much disarms
us of the promptings of selfish or evil inclinations, and disposes
up to pensive contemplation, as that in which we find
ourselves, when looking abroad in a bright moonlight night.
We feel that it is neither night nor day, and while we are
tempted to forego the mental quiescence of the one, we are
restrained from pondering the agitating schemes of the other,
partly, it may be, from the conscious uselessness of then nerving
mysteriously softening and benign influences of the hour
And that gravely humorous bard, who penned the couplet:—
That patroness of rogues the moon,”
Her patronage is not sought by the prowling felon and evil
doer, who love darkness, but by the lover and sentimentalist,
who delight to appropriate her propitious influences. Job
speaks of the sweet influences of the pleiades, but if any of
the heavenly bodies possess and exert any such properties on
the human family, the moon, we think, is clearly entitled to
the pre-eminence. And if, under her sober and quiet dispensation,
the thoughts of the imaginative and superstitious
sometimes take flights not warranted by reason, or shape
themselves into distempered fancies, it would hardly be fair
to hold her chargeable for their vagaries.
The same bright luminary, which had thus brought into
beautified prospect the varied features of the landscape, also
brought into view scores of the good people of Plymouth,
who, tempted by the beauty of the evening, and moved with
an uneasiness and concern that led them to seek companionship
for an interchange of opinions, had left their houses and
gone into the streets. And here they were seen standing in
scattered groups around the open doors, in the yards, or in
the road-ways, discussing, with subdued demeanors, and low,
suppressed tones, the incidents of the day, and the consequences
which might flow from them. From the anxious and
disturbed manner and tones every where observable among
both speakers and listeners, the fact became obvious that a
general feeling of doubt and perplexity had fallen on the
people; and that the boasted measure of their rulers, which
had that day been consummated, and from which so much
had been promised and predicted, towards intimidating King
but that what had been done would be likely to hasten on the
menaced evil. Mingling with the rest of one of the principal
groups thus assembled in the streets, were again found
most of the personages who were introduced in the opening
scene of the day; and among them stood the gab-gifted Shadow,
holding forth in his usual strain, but with words particularly
intended for those who had been timidly giving open expression
to the general feeling of doubt and apprehension, now
become too irrepressible to be longer concealed.
“It is,” said he,—“it is from the sins of the people, and our
lack of duty-doing courage to wash our hands of them, by fitting
and acceptable acts of expiation, that we have only to
fear. Every day I behold doings that will make us to
stink in the nostrils of heaven. Every day mine eyes are
pained with sights among old and young, that proclaim us in
a loud voice—yea, in the voice of many thunders, to be a
perverse and sinful generation. Our women are seen decked
with vain ornaments. Our young men and maidens are seen
familiarly walking together in the streets in open day, or riding,
side by side, into the country for vain recreations, after the
manner of the carnal minded and uncircumcised. The holy
Sabbath is desecrated in our midst by cooking victuals, and secular
conversation on that sacred day. The land has become
full of heresies and abominable doctrines. And even we of the
household of faith, I greatly fear me, have erred and done foolishly
in that we have not frowned upon, and put a stop to
these loose doings of the people; and especially in that we
have not put down with the arm of the law, sanctified and
made strong by the orderings of the Church, the damnable
heresies of the Quakers, and other schismatics, as we formerly
did, and as the law even now commands us to do. Yea, I
greatly fear we have erred and gone astray by our want of
faithfulness and mistaken omissions of duty, to wipe away the
now great reason to hope that our skirts will soon become cleared
of the sin of our remissness. We have this day made manifest
our determination to avoid and avert from our guilty land
the curse that fell on Saul for sparing the heathen, Amalekitish
Agag, whom God had ordered his people to destroy. We
have this day executed vengeance on three worse heathen
than the idolatrous followers of Agag, wherein our modern
Agag of the wilderness will be made to fear and tremble.”
“He did not appear to fear and tremble much to-day,
methought, when he appeared before the whole court and people,
at the close of the execution, and so boldly told them
what they might expect from what they had done,” carelessly
remarked Vane Willis, the successful young marksman, before
introduced, who seemed to have been listening rather impatiently
to the Shadow's notions of duty and way of carrying
them out.
“The young man mistakes the manifestations,” rejoined
Dummer. “The scourging of Sathana will make him to rave
and howl, and the more he raves and howls, the stronger the
token that he hath been hit and balked in his devilish designs.
Now, I look upon the chafings and raging of that audacious
Sachem, and that she-devil and heathen sorceress he brought
with him, to alarm us with false prophecy, as a sure sign that
our wise and fearless rulers have done that which has struck
him in a vital part. It is a good omen, brethren. This chafing
child of Sathana, as he clearly is, may rage awhile, but he
will soon slink back to his place; and we shall hear no more
of him, or his rebellions. And this I know, is Deacon Mudgridge's
opinion.”
So saying, the self-satisfied zealot turned and walked off to
the residence of his oracle, the important personage whose
opinion he had just quoted as something too infallible ever to
to resume their discussion.
“Dummer is a man of great faith,” observed one of the
more thinking and discreet of the group, after the subject of
his remark had got out of hearing; “and I hope his predictions
about the effect and consequence of this day's work will
prove true ones. But—”
“But what?” interposed Sniffkin, the aristocratic young
court lackey of the opening scene of the story—“but what,
sir? Mr. Dummer is undoubtedly right. The court acted
wisely, and knew what they were about when they started this
measure. It was a grand stroke of policy; and what is better,
they have carried it to the end in a manner well calculated
to ensure the object. And the effect on the damned
Sachem will be just what Dummer predicts. I am confident
of it.”
“If you knew better what stuff Metacom was made of, you
might be a trifle less confident, perhaps,” responded Willis,
quietly.
“It is quite consistent,” retorted Sniffkin, contemptuously,
without turning to the speaker—“consistent, and to be expected,
that a fellow who showed so much sympathy for the
guilty heathen before their trial, and then at the trial assisted
a noted heretic to thwart justice and get them clear, should
now try to destroy the effect of the wholesome example of a
result he wished to prevent. If Mr. Dummer, whose face is
set like a flint against scoffers, and all those who consort with
heathens and heretics, had known the fellow he spoke to, his
just rebuke would not have been quite so mild a one, I fancy.
I think some folks had better look out, lest they soon find
their feet on slippery places.”
“I think so, too,” chimed in Dick Swain, still smarting
under the remembrance of the hazardous dilemma in which he
believed Willis had assisted Williams to place him at the
dogs are disposed of, the Quakers and heretics, I understand,
are to have their turn next.”
“And hypocrites, knaves, and fools are then to have their
own way without let or hindrance, I suppose,” rejoined the
marksman, with an air of undisguised disdain, as he whirled
on his heel, and left the group, on his way up the street.
“Dog him, Dick,” whispered Sniffkin, into the ear of the
other, pointing after his retiring rival; “dog him; see where
he goes. And as matters now appear to be in a good shape
to leave, I will go home.”
The two last named persons then departed on their different
destinations, leaving the rest of the company to continue the
discussion unbiased by the words or presence of either of the
contending parties, to whom they had been listening.
“I am afraid,” at length remarked the man who had ventured
to intimate some doubts respecting Dummer's confident
assurances. “I am afraid that young man, though rather
rough and irreverent, perhaps, towards Mr. Sniffkin and Dick
Swain, is right in what he evidently believes will be the consequence
of hanging these Indians. I am afraid our rulers
have been a little too fast.”
“And so am I,” responded another, who had also been
smothering his convictions. “I didn't think so much of it
till I heard King Philip, standing up there so calm and dignified
like, tell over how he had intended to keep peace, and
then come out so bold and square for war at last, on account
of what he had seen there to-day. I couldn't help thinking
that there was something kinder reasonable in what he said;
and then to hear the Indian woman, who is, like enough, a
witch, as Mr. Dummer says, and can foretell things, to hear
her curse and prophesy! Why, it enymost made my hair
stand up on my head!”
Others, now all restraints on giving free utterance to their
to the boding fears with which their minds were also
laboring; when they were cut short by the sudden appearance
of a man running towards them from another group that had
been standing at some distance, and in a more open part of the
street.
“Have you seen the great mystery?” he almost breathlessly
exclaimed; “have you here noticed the strange appearance of
the moon to-night?”
“No, what is it? what is it?” eagerly demanded a dozen
excited voices.
“Here, come to this open place, you can see it between the
houses—there,” continued the herald of the strange tidings, as
the others all now rushed to the spot, “there, only look there,
a blood-stained human scalp, right in the middle of the
moon!”
All eyes followed the eagerly pointed finger, till they rested
on the innocent face of the luminary that had so suddenly become
an object of suspicious interest; when, surely enough,
a scalp seemed, to their startled and distorted visions, to have
grown out of that scraggy, opake spot in the moon which has
so often attracted the eyes of wondering childhood, at all
times, but which now, owing to the peculiar state of the atmosphere,
was seen marked and defined with unusual distinctness.
First one, then another, and then all, assisted by
their excited imaginations, recognized the shape and appearance
of that horrid token of savage ferocity, and unanimously
proclaimed it an omen of coming war, which could no longer
be mistaken. But they were not to be required to rely alone
on the evidence of this monstrous prefiguration for proof of the
near approach of such a calamitous event. In a few moments
the amazed and shuddering gazers were aroused by the sounds
of multitudinous footfalls; and turning, they saw a dusty horseman,
with a mingled crowd of excited men and boys hurrying
them.
“News, news!” shouted a man, who now started forward in
advance of the rest of the new comers by way of heralding
their approach; “great news from the other colony! Here is
a man straight from Boston. Form a ring, form a ring, and
then we can all hear him relate the strange tidings he brings
us.”
A ring was accordingly formed, and the news-monger,
still sitting on his horse, proceeded to relate to the gaping
crowd, how, one or two days before, “in a clear, still, sunshiny
morning, there were divers persons in Maldon, who
heard in the air, on the south-east of them, a great gun go off,
and presently thereupon, the report of small guns, like musket
shot, very thick discharging, as if there had been a battle.”
In another town, the people had been astonished by “the flying
of bullets, which came singing over their heads; after which
the sound of drums, passing along west-ward was very audible.”
And in several other places, invisible troops of horses
were heard riding to and fro, like squadrons charging in hostile
conflict.[1]
Great was the fear and perplexity that fell on the minds
of the crowd as they listened to the narration of these prodigies,
which, with the one they themselves had just witnessed
they all, with one accord, and without one thought of attempting
to account for them on natural principles, set down as unmistakably
portents of war. And thinking of their wives and children,
in their agitation and dismay, they immediately broke up,
and hurried to their homes, as if the dreadful tomahawk might
be already busy there in the work of death.
But, while these things were thus agitating, with doubts
and fears, the common people without, there was one within
was never more assured and exultant in his life; and that one
was the chief mover, and the most active participator in the
events of the past day—the untiring Deacon Mudgridge, to
whose affectedly plain, but really very costly mansion, we will
now take the reader.
The Deacon, having finished his supper, and visited his
private cupboard for that little addition to creature comforts,
which he occasionally took just “for stomach's sake,” had repaired
to his usual sitting room, where he was accustomed to
receive the numerous calls of those daily coming to consult
him on matters of church and state; for so important in the
public mind had his opinions become, that few things of any
moment, in either, were undertaken without his advice or
concurrence. He was now slowly pacing his room and soliloquizing
half aloud, in that kind of strange jumble of prayer
and self-gratulation, to which the scathing genius of Burns
subsequently gave form and habitation in “Holy Willie,” and
his prayer—
When thousands thou hast left in night,
That I am here before thy sight,
For gifts an' grace,
A burnin' an' a shinin' light,
To a' the place.”
“Ay, here, firm as a rock, while others faint, or would succumb
to the powers of darkness. And then the great matter
of this day—Lord, I bless thee for carrying me through it,
and exalting my horn in that thou hast given me the triumph—(Well,
I think they will see, now, that but for me,
the heathen had never been thus signally chastised and discomfited,
to the saving of the people and the glory of God.
But that accursed schismatic Williams! verily, I did not
know, one while, how the thing would befal.) Yet thou,
Nevertheless, Lord, do not let that vile man come between
me and thy helping hand again, lest, peradventure, the
people in their weakness be led away by him. Lord, put thy
hand upon him, and all thine enemies, and continue to build
up thy servant, whom thou hast so much blest, and particularly
aid and assist him by thine orderings, in that other
matter which thou knowest he has in mind to see perfected,
and—”
A gentle rap, rap, on the outside of the door opening from
the street into the apartment, here interrupted the Deacon,
and quickly assuming the meekly wise and sanctimonious air,
which he usually wore in public, he responded—
“Peace be with you! come in.”
The door opened, and the Shadow meekly entered.
“Well pleased at thy coming, friend Dummer, inasmuch
as it gives me opportunity to thank and congratulate thee on
thy faithful and opportune public services, during the day
just brought to such a triumphant close.”
“I did not come expecting such praise, Deacon Mudgridge,
and I greatly fear me, I do not deserve it. I feel myself but
a poor weak vessel, Deacon Mudgridge.”
“And therein consisteth your strength, because it maketh
you to lean directly on the Lord, who turneth trusting weakness
into a strength to the overcoming of the children of Belial.
Your prayers, to-day, friend Dummer, were full of holy
power, and had an extraordinary adaptedness.”
“I will not try to disguise how much it pleaseth my heart
to hear such words from one who hath it in his power to advance
those who are found worthy, to posts of greater usefulness
in the Lord's household; and I have sometimes thought
that if—”
“Ay—ay—I know, and it shall be brought about speedily,
against the adverse powers brought against me?”
“With admirable wisdom; and it was of that I principally
came to congratulate thee; and I think we of the household
of faith ought all to feel great and exceeding gratitude, that
we have such a buckler and shield to ward off the arrows of
Sathana, whose presence methought was never more visible
than to-day.”
“Your last remark shows you to be a man of discernment,
friend Dummer. You are verily right about the devilish
manifestations of to-day, especially in the untoward coming,
and through all the subtle managings and arguings of that
man of sin, the schismatic and dangerous Williams.”
“Yea, truly; but then, with what astonishing quickness
and power you met his devices, and overwhelmed him at every
point, Deacon?”
“Ay, you must bear in mind I am an old soldier in the
Church Militant, friend Dummer. I saw from the first moment
of the trial, from tokens well known to me, that Sathan
had come up to defeat us, and was already busy with his invisible
instigations, at the ear of Williams, as was another I
could name. But arming myself in the panoply of prayer and
divine promptings, I followed the old sarpent in all his doublings
and windings, and think, as you say, that I completely
circumvented him at every point, and carried the battle gloriously;
yea, even unto the righteous termination thereof. But
not mine the praise—not mine the glory, friend Dummer.”
“Truly not, Deacon Mudgridge; but then we cannot help
admiring the chosen and honored instrument of such achieved
glories, whereby both church and state were crowned, as to-day,
with righteous judgment unto the manifest averting of calamities.”
“Thus much I don't know that I should try to prevent,
friend Dummer. But did you perceive anything in the goings
Sathan there also?”
“Verily I did think I perceived his promptings in the ravings
of the audacious Sachem, and moreover in the false
prophecies and vile cursings of the red sorceress, as I think
she must be, who was with him, at their mysterious coming.
Yea, I did perceive tokens of his presence, and have already
asserted it, in my laborings with the people, in the street, this
very evening.”
“You did right, both in the assertions, and in your laborings,
which, as I suggested, when we left the scene, seemed to
be required to calm, and put confidence into the minds of the
people, who, through their weakness, were, I perceived, troubled
with some misgivings. But you might have gone further and
pointed out to them the marvel of the breaking of the rope,
when the last of the damnable trio was swung off; for what
but Sathan's own hand could have sundered that strong, new
rope? Nothing. It was scorched and made rotten by the hot
grasp of his fiery fingers. But you saw that I did not allow
his cunning device to serve him; for the young imp, he had
thought thus to save, as soon as we had got his confession, was
sent to hellward almost as quick as his accursed companions.
Yea, I saw all that clearly; and when the impudent Sachem
and his she confederate so strangely appeared up there, as if they
had been transported to the spot through the air by the taking
of one under each arm, methought I could distinctly see him
standing bodily, in the shape of the great Apollyon himself,
leaning over from behind them, and grinning and gibbering
into their ears. It was then I gave the order to the soldiers
to fire, and had they done so quick enough, the Sachem had
died; since I had breathed a hasty blessing on the undischarged
bullets. And I an't so sure but the infernal prompter
himself would have been grievously wounded.”
“These things are truly marvelous, Deacon, and fill me
think we have done all we must do, in the purging out of
diabolisms and heresies in the land, before the Lord will fully
accept us and make us to be wholly victorious over our
enemies?”
“No, of a verity we have not; and it rejoiceth me exceedingly
to find one at least, who, like you, seems to have a just
and holy sense of what is required of the church and rulers
in these times of evil omen. We must first wrestle mightily
with God by prayer and fastings, and at the same time be
doing the works of faith by putting down, with a fearless
hand, all kinds of heresies and misdoings.”
“It is a truth, Deacon Mudgridge—a sad truth, and one
that should shame us to be up and doing. We are over slack
and timid in our marked lines of duty, and I concur with your
opinions, even unto the full measure thereof. Something must
be done; but where do you think it were most expedient to
make the beginning of the needful and wholesome work of
sin-purging and acceptable expiation?”
“On just the like of that dangerous schismatic, (and a rank
heretic, also, I doubt me not,) who made us so much trouble
to-day, whom I think our rulers erred in admitting to speak,
and who, instead, ought to have been put under arrest for
meet punishment. But our governor, though ready to put
down the heathen savages with an iron hand, and with a will
and courage that knows no trembling nor hesitation, seems not
to understand the devices of Satan and the dangerous workings
of heresies on a people, and so is timid and doubtful in
these matters.”
“Then you, Deacon, must be the man to move in the
matter of these crying abominations.”
“I suppose I must; for duty is duty, and seeing wherein it
ought to be done, I should not, it may be, shrink from the
with me.”
“The Lord helping me, I will not be laggard; but whither
more particularly pointeth the finger of duty among the multitude
of offenses requiring the hand of correction?”
“I have already hinted what should be done with those
steeped in damnable heresies, like the man Williams and his
confederating disciples. There is another class that I consider
even more dangerous—I mean that pestilent sect called Quakers.
There is a law still in force requiring the branding of
them—boring with hot irons their tongues, which had uttered
false doctrines—whipping them from town to town on their
way to banishment, and the inflicting of the just penalty of
death if they returned. That wholesome law was once commendably
executed, and the land was blessed accordingly.
But now, in our guilty remissness, it has become but little
better than a dead letter. Quakers, and even returned Quakers,
I grieve to say, walk among us unmolested.”
“Yea, Deacon, I greatly fear this thing is so.”
“But what would you say of one who was both heretic and
Quaker, or at least was deeply tainted with their abominable
doctrines?”
“I should say of him, anathema maranatha, and count it a
God-bounden duty to move against him.”
“And yet, such an one, as I know, through the praise-worthy
faithfulness of our trusty, albeit sometimes a little irregular
brother, Dick Swain, appeared in the streets this very
morning, and openly took sides with the heathen prisoners,
and reviled our rulers. And then, to add to his contumacy
and wicked intent, the fellow unblushingly went to the side
of Williams, and prompted and aided him through the trial,
in perverting the evidence unto the defeating of justice and
judgment.”
“Surely that were a grievous offence. But, who is he?”
“A youngerly, but very froward fellow, called Vane Willis,
from some place out of town, though often here, it is thought,
and I fear with no good design. In truth, I have the most
painful surmises, that he is trying to tamper with some who
have been especially placed under godly influences, and the
protecting care of the Christian household. You well knew our
worthy sister, in the Lord, the widow Southworth, who left us
a few months ago?”
“Surely, I did,—a godly woman, eschewing all false doctrines,
and full of spiritual obedience.”
“You knew, likewise,” resumed the Deacon, drawing near
the other, and speaking lower, “that this family, on the fleeing
of her unfortunate husband, afterwards slain by salvages
no doubt, was put under my sole charge and guardianship,
which I discharged to the great satisfaction of our duty doing
sister, who always depended on me for advice in all that
related to the spiritual and temporal affairs of herself and her
daughter, now left behind her. But that daughter is not
like her mother in many things, being more inclined to doubts
in some of the matters of sound doctrines, as I have thought I
sometimes perceived, and less inclined to give ear to wholesome
counsel. Now her mother and I both labored to get
her into the fold of the church; but failing in that, we, at
length, fully agreed on betrothing her to my nephew, Timothy
Sniffkin, for her temporal advantage and spiritual safety, and
then, when her mother was taken away, I invited her to
take up her residence at my house, knowing that then she
would not have there any proper protectors; but she seemed
strangely perverse in all these matters. Now I greatly fear
that this pestilent fellow that I spoke of, with whom she confesses
to some acquaintance, has had some hand in her perverseness.”
“Heinous! how heinous, if so!” said the shocked Dummer,—
“I see,—I see the thoughtless and straying lamb of our flock is
means, Deacon?”
“In my holy anxieties, I have pondered the thing diligently,
and have hit upon a course. As a first step, I would
have you to-morrow go and labor with her, with counsel and
prayer, to induce her to come into the sacred fold. Peradventure,
with my backing, she will listen; and the path will
then be opened to almost certain success. Meanwhile, we
must narrowly watch the base beguiler. If he is a Quaker,
as Dick thinks it is clearly certain he is, then—”
Sharp outcries, and the sounds of hurrying footsteps in
the street, here cut short the conference of these worthies,
who, running to the window, soon gathered from the hurrying
passers, that a man, supposed to be Dick Swain, had
been seized by some of King Philip's crew, just outside the
town, and carried off; when the Deacon and his Shadow
snatched up their hats and joined the throng rushing on to
the rescue.
| CHAPTER IV. The doomed chief, or, Two hundred years ago | |