The Greatest Works of Charles Carleton Coffin. Charles Carleton Coffin
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ladies, representing Faith, Hope, and Charity, had drunk so much wine that they could not speak their parts. Ben Jonson had prepared a part for Victory, but the wine had gone to her head, and she became crazy for the time being, slapped the lords and ladies in the face with her olive-branch of peace, and made so much disturbance that the servants were obliged to put her out of the hall.
The people loved games, and on market-days, in the country towns, there was cock-fighting, worrying of bulls by dogs, and games in which women and girls took part — running for prizes, or seeing which could make the broadest grin or loudest yawn; noblemen, courtiers, and many ministers spent much of their time in gambling with cards and dice in the tobacco-shop, for the people were learning to smoke.
The Puritans believed that life was not a holiday, but that men were in this world for a grand purpose; that they were accountable to God for every act; that it was the duty of everybody to live soberly and righteously. They brought the power of the world to come to bear upon every thought and act. No person had a right to be idle. A frivolous life was a wasted life.
Such ideas were distasteful to the crowd of courtiers, who ridiculed the sober-minded men and women who were ever talking of duty and obligation. Thus it came about that society was divided into two classes: the king, nobility, courtiers, bishops, the ministers who had fat livings and who loved their ease, the rich tradesmen, the play-actors, those who loved sports on Sunday, on one side; on the other were many farmers and peasants, some tradesmen and mechanics, some ministers, not many of the nobility, and very few of the courtiers. Only a small portion of the people were Puritans while James was king, but their numbers increased as the years rolled on; not altogether because people became more religious, but because of the arbitrary acts of James and his son Charles. Political questions made men Puritans.
James wanted more money than Parliament was willing to grant, and obtained it by selling titles. If a man wished to be a viscount, he must pay one hundred thousand dollars; if an earl, one hundred and fifty thousand.
“Why not create a new title and raise more money?” suggested Sir Thomas Shirley. James acted upon the hint, and created the title of baronet, and reaped a harvest of a million dollars.
Parliament had granted the king duties on all goods brought into or sent from England, at a fixed rate; but James discovered a way to put money in his pockets by increasing the rates. Vessels, for instance, which came from Greece brought cargoes of dried currants, which paid two shillings sixpence on every hundred pounds; James raised it to seven shillings sixpence without consulting Parliament; and so with everything else — putting all into his own pocket.
The judges of the Star-chamber and the bishops of the court of High Commission did as he desired. The laws said that no man who was accused of a crime should be compelled to testify against himself, but the judges and bishops disregarded it. Two men were brought before the bishops for not conforming to the ritual, and to answer other charges.
“We will not take an oath to testify against ourselves,” they said.
The bishops sent them to prison; but they appealed to the judges of another court for a writ of habeas corpus, which means “to have the body;” that is, the judges of the other court had power to order the sheriff to take the two men from prison, and bring them before their court for examination; and they could order their release if they pleased, or send them to prison again. Mr. Fuller argued the case before the judges of the King’s Bench.
“They ought to be released,” he said, “because the High Commission has not been empowered by law to fine or imprison, neither to administer oaths.”
That was a blow at the authority of the bishops, who summoned Fuller to appear before them; and, when he refused to take the oath, they threw him into prison, and compelled him to pay a fine of one thousand dollars. The judges of the King’s Bench did not interfere, and the Star-chamber and High Commission went on with their oppression. Men were put into prison, whipped, branded on the cheek, or had their noses and ears cut off for not conforming to the ritual, or for denying the authority of the bishops.
For light offences men were subjected to cruel punishments. In every village there was a whipping-post, pillory, and stocks. If a woman scolded her husband or neighbors, she was put in the pillory, or whipped, or tied to the ducking-stool and soused in a pond. If a man spoke disrespectfully of the bishops or king, he was flogged. For stealing or breaking into houses, men were hung.
It was a ghastly spectacle that the passengers across London Bridge beheld — skeletons hanging in chains and swinging in the wind. Those who passed beneath the Temple gate saw rows of skulls grinning upon them from the parapet.
It was believed that unless bodily pain was inflicted; unless offenders were whipped, or had their noses cut off; unless they were imprisoned or hung, there would not be a proper administration of justice, and society would not be secure. The laws were brutal, because the people were brutal. What we call the spirit of the age, is only our own spirit. When criminals were hung, thousands flocked to behold the hanging, and made sport when the sheriff swung them off. The multitude experienced a savage pleasure in seeing Jack Ketch cut off a man’s head.
The judges had a great deal to say about the majesty of the law. Bishops claimed the right to compel everybody to believe as they believed and worship as they worshipped, and had power to punish by fines, flogging, and imprisonment all who would not obey their commands.
Will the people who cross the Atlantic to settle America, who have been subject to persecution, at once become charitable? Change of place cannot change the spirit of an age. Time alone can do it.
Chapter V
The Beginning of Two Civilizations
A coach blazing with gold, with white lilies on its panels — the arms of France — rumbled through a narrow street in Paris on the afternoon of July 14th, 1610. In the coach was a gray-haired man, with a hooked nose, sharp chin, wrinkled face, and stiff gray mustache. Fifty-seven years had passed since his birth in an old stone castle at Pau, in the Pyrenees, where his fond grandfather poured wine and garlic down his throat to make him strong (see “Story of Liberty”); twenty years had gone by since his white plume, waving in the thickest of the fight at Ivry, had won a great victory for the Huguenots — toleration for them and peace to France — through the Edict of Nantes, that alike protected Catholic and Huguenots. Henry IV., beloved by the people, hated by the Jesuits, was riding alone through the narrow street, where the quaint old houses, jutting story over story, shut out the sunlight. Two carts blocked the way, and the coach came to a standstill. A stout man with red whiskers, deep-set, wolfish eyes, the Jesuit Ravaillac, wearing a cloak, stepped up to the window. A dagger gleamed in the air, and then was buried to the handle in the heart of the king. A gasp, a gargling in the throat, a sinking of the body upon the cushions, and all is over. He is gone; gone also the peace of Europe, the tranquillity of France, the hope of the Huguenots; but there is rejoicing in convents and nunneries, for no more will the Jesuits be thwarted in their plans by Henry IV.
Marie de Medicis, pliant, unprincipled, wicked — regent for her little son till he shall become king — will be a supple tool in their hands; whatever they ask she will grant, and they will train the son to follow in the footsteps of the mother.
What glorious news! The red men of America all becoming Christians! Young Biencourt, son of Baron Pontrincourt, brings the intelligence.
Four years had passed since the abandonment of Port Royal by Sieur de Monts, who, having lost much money, sold all his rights in Acadia to Baron Pontrincourt, who hastened across the sea to take possession of his purchase. There was rejoicing in the wigwams of the Indians when his vessel dropped anchor in Port Royal. The houses and the furniture remained just as Sieur de Monts had left them. Membertu, the Indian chief, who was very old, welcomed his friends the French once more.
“ I have served the devil all my life, and now I want to be good,” he said.
Possibly he remembered the dinners he had eaten