# Hobomok/Chapter X

A Tale of Early Times - published in 1824
Their judge was conscience, and her rule their law.
Cowper
Men so entirely uncongenial as Brown and his companions could not long tolerate each other. To the talents and virtues of many of them he gave a voluntary tribute of respect and admiration; but some of them were so far below his intellectual standard, that nothing could have saved them from his contempt, save the strong bond of religious unity; and under no circumstances, and in no situation whatever, could Brown have been a Puritan. Perhaps he and his adversaries equally mistook the pride of human opinion, for conscientious zeal; but their contradictory sentiments owed their origin to native difference of character. Spiritual light, like that of the natural sun, shines from one source, and shines alike upon all; but it is reflected and absorbed in almost infinite variety; and in the moral, as well as the natural world, the diversity of the rays is occasioned by the nature of the recipient.
Brown had gradually grown more daring in the declaration of his belief; but it was not until the Sabbath after ordination that he publicly evinced his adherence to the rites of the Episcopal church. A meeting was held in a vacant building which had been erected as a common house until more convenient dwellings could be procured. Here a considerable number were collected; and the English ritual was read, and the sacrament administered by Mr. Blackstone in his full, canonical robes, according to the ceremonies prescribed by James and his Bishops at the council of Hampton House.
This was a thing not to be passed over. Mr. Blackstone living alone in his solitary hut at Tri-Mountain, was out of their jurisdiction; but Brown and his brother were the next morning ordered to appear before an assembly of the elders, to answer the charges brought against them. At 4 o'clock in the afternoon the inhabitants of Salem were seen again collecting at their meetinghouse to hear what could be said in defence of the culprits. After a suitable pause, the Governor arose, as he said, "You Mr. Charles and Samuel Brown are accused of fomenting disturbance among the people, forasmuch as you have taught them that under the shadow of the mitre is the only place where men ought to worship. Do you plead guilty thereto?"
"That I bow with reverence before the holy mitre, is most true, Governor Endicott; but in no respect whatever have I bred disturbance among the people."
"Have you not," interrupted Mr. Conant, "have you not made them drink of the wine of Babylon? Yea, have you not made them drunk with her fornication? Have you not, like the red dragon, pursued the church into the wilderness, and poured out a flood after her, that you might cause her to be destroyed?"
"My answers are to Governor Endicott, and the elders of what you term the church," replied Brown, with respectful coldness.
"Mr. Conant," said the Governor, "these things should be done decently, and in order. It is the business of men in authority to inquire into this matter. Have you, young man, upheld the ritual of the first-born daughter of the church of Rome, and maintained that the arm of royal authority ought to enforce obedience thereto?"
"I have said," replied Brown, "that `Religio docenda est, non coercenda,' was a bad maxim of state policy; and that `Hæresis dedocenda est, non permittenda, ' was a far better. If by the first-born daughter of Rome, you mean that church descended in a direct line from Jesus Christ and his Apostles, a church at the feet of which the most sacred and virtuous Elizabeth bowed down her majestic head, and beneath the shelter of whose mighty arm the learned king James, and our liege prince Charles, have reposed their triple diadem---if you mean this church, I do say, her sublime ritual should be enforced, till every fibre of the king's dominions yields a response thereto. Saints have worn her white robe, and her mitre has rested on holy men. The sacred water hath been on my unworthy head, and therewithal have their hands signed the mystic symbol of redemption. And I would rather," continued he, raising the tones of his fine, manly voice, "I would rather give my limbs to the wolves of your desert, than see her sceptre broken by men like yourselves."
"Think you," said Governor Endicott, smiling, "that king James cared aught for the church, save that he considered it the basis of the throne? You forget his open declaration in the assembly at Edinburgh. `The church of Geneva,' saith he, `keepeth pasche and yule; what have they for them? They have no institution. As for our neighbour kirk of England, their service is an evil said mass in English. They want none of the mass but the liftings.' "
"King James had not then come to the English throne," answered Brown. "He found cause to alter his opinion after he had felt the blessed influence of that church, and seen many of her corner stones, elect and precious."
"Nay, Mr. Brown," rejoined the Governor, "there is enow wherewithal to convince your reason, for you are not wanting in the light which leadeth astray, that it was `king craft,' which made James turn his back upon a church whereunto he had given the name of the `sincerest kirk in the whole world;' and, with all reverence to his royal memory, I cannot but think that his love of forms and ceremonies was but a taint of hereditary evil from his Moabitish mother. Forasmuch as I am a loyal subject of king Charles, it is neither wise nor safe for me to find specks and blemishes in his government; but to my thinking, there is but a fine-spun thread between the crosier and the liturgy, the embroidered mantle and the bishop's gown; and who does not know that the heart of the king is fastened to the rosary of Henrietta Maria? And that the mummeries of Rome are, at her instigation, heard within the palace of St. James? But after all, Mr. Brown, there is one higher than princes. It was a cardinal truth, which Cardinal Pole spake unto Henry the Eighth, `Penes reges inferre bellum, penes autem Deum terminare.' "
"And I marvel that men of sense, like yourself, Governor Endicott, can expect the sword of the Lord to be quiet in its scabbard, when the robe of religion is torn, and her altars overturned," replied Brown; "and that too, by men unto whom you give your countenance--- a parcel of separatists and anabaptists, covering their sins with the cloak of religion, and concealing their own factious and turbulent spirit there-with."
Upon this Mr. Higginson and Mr. Skelton arose and made answer:
"Neither as factious men affecting a popular parity in the church, nor as schismatics aiming at the dissolution of the church ecclesiastical, but as faithful ministers of Christ, and liege subjects of king Charles, did we come hither. We have suffered much for nonconformity in our native land, and after much tribulation have we come to this place of liberty. Here the cap and the gown may not be urged upon us, for we consider these things as sinful abominations in the sight of God. So may the Almighty prosper us, as we have, in all humility, spoken the truth."
"Credat Judæus, non ego," replied Brown, scornfully. "It is easy to talk about conscience and humility, but wherein have you shown it, in that you judge the consciences of your brethren?"
"We have but testified against what we conceived to be the errors and abuses of the church," answered Mr. Higginson. "We have been made the humble instruments to begin the good work, which God will go on to perfect for his own praise and his people's. peace. Let good men sit still and behold his salvation. He that sitteth in the heavens, laugheth at the pride of men. The Most High hath them in derision; and their folly shall certainly be made known unto all."
"Mr. Brown," said the Governor, "you need not reply to this; for disrespectful words like unto those you have spoken, must not be repeated in my presence. Inasmuch as gentle means have been in vain used to convince you of your errors, it is our opinion that New England is no place for such haughty spirits to dwell within. Therefore, in the first vessel which departeth from these shores, we do order you to return from whence you came; and, in the meantime, we do command you to desist from convening the people together at any time; or in any wise calling their attention to common prayer."
"Let them that scorn the mitre, fear the crown," replied the angry young man. "Who is it that has wrought upon the minds of the people, persuading them that they should not march under the king's colors, pretending that his conscience is wounded by the popish sign of the cross, and thereby concealing his traitorous purposes against his sovereign? Mayhap you had spoken less freely within the court of St. James; but the sceptre can reach you even here, and you may yet tremble at its touch. There are those who can tell of your evil practices, and they shall be told in a voice of thunder." So saying, the young man and his brother, with stately step, departed from the house.
"The council will sit some time longer," said Brown to his brother; "for they have other heretical matters to discuss. If you will give me notice when they begin to disperse, I will go directly to Mr. Conant's; for I must see Mary to-night."
"I could hardly stoop to woo the daughter of that dogmatical rascal," replied Samuel; "though I will acknowledge, she is the very queen of women."
"Pride can endure much in such a cause," rejoined his brother; "but I must away."
The young man sprung over the log enclosure, ran across a mendow to conceal his intended route from those within the dwelling, and in a few moments coming out into the open footpath, he hurried along with the rapid pace of a man in whose bosom painful thoughts are struggling and busy.
"Well," thought he, "I shall at least see England again---again tread on her classic ground, and gaze on her antique grandeur and cultivated beauty. But, oh, to leave her in such a place, is the bitterest thought of all. And what would be her lot, if far away from her, I should go to `that bourne from whence no traveller returns?' "
But the heart of youth rebounds from the pressure of despondency---and presently brighter scenes were passing swiftly before him. One moment he was invested in the civil gown, the applause of princes and nobles resounding in his ears;---and the next presented Mary restored to her original rank, and shining amid the loveliest and proudest of the land. She too, had had many bitter thoughts; for she well knew the temper of the souls about her, and she felt that the decree of the assembly could not be otherwise than it had proved. When Brown entered, he received a cordial grasp both from the mother and daughter, as they anxiously inquired,
"What have they done?"
"A vessel sails for England in a week," replied Brown; "and Samuel and I depart from America, perhaps forever."
Whenever Mary thought of the possibility of separation, and of late she had frequently feared that the time would soon come, she had felt that the youth was still dearer and dearer to her heart. And now when she heard him announce the speedy certainty of this, her pale lip quivered, and in the silent unreserve of hearts long wedded to each other, she threw herself sobbing on his neck, her slender arms clinging around him, in all the energy of grief.
"I know not," said Mrs. Conant, dashing the tears from her cheek, "I know not that I ought to allow this. Remember, dear Mary, what I owe to your father."
"Madam Conant," replied Brown, "we have loved each other too long, and too purely, to stand upon idle ceremonies at this painful moment. Had I been treated with more moderation, perhaps I might never have been so hasty as to declare my religious opinions. Then these unhappy differences had never arisen, and with my Mary, I could happily have shared a log hut in the wilderness. But I have been spurned, goaded, trampled on, as a heretic---and worse than all, I have been doomed to hear every thing blasphemed which I held most sacred. As it is, you cannot deny us this sorrowful alleviation of our lot."
"It is the duty of woman to love and obey her husband," answered Mrs. Conant; "but had you known whereunto my heart has been inclined in this matter---" she would have said more, but something unbidden rose and prevented her utterance.
"I do know it," rejoined the young man; "and wherever I go, you will be in my pleasantest and most grateful thoughts. But, Mary, it will not be always thus---You will come to England and be my wife."
Mary looked at her mother and sighed.
"It may as well be said as not, my child," observed Mrs. Conant. "I shall not long hang a dead weight upon your young life. Nay, do not weep, Mary; I know that you are willing to bear the burden, and that you have been kind and cheerful beneath it; but the shadows of life are fleeting more dimly before me, and I feel that I must soon be gathered to my fathers."
The expression brought with it a flash of painful recollection.
"No," continued she, "like the wife of Abraham, I must be buried far from my kindred. If my greyhaired father could but shed one tear upon my grave, methinks it would furnish wherewithal to cheer my drooping heart. I loved my husband,---nor have I ever repented that I followed him hither; but oh, Mary, I would not have you suffer as I have suffered, when I have thought of that solitary old man. `The heart knoweth its own sorrows, and a stranger intermeddleth not with its grief."'
"Dear mother," replied Mary, "you know that grandfather loves you, and has long since forgiven you. I have told you how often he used to take me in his lap and kiss me, as he said how much I looked like his dear child."
The mournful smile of consumption passed over the pale face of Mrs. Conant,---one of those smiles in which the glowing light of the etherial inhabitant seemed gleaming through its pale and broken tenement.
"Well, Mr. Brown," said she, "Mary will write a letter to her grandfather, and when you deliver it, give him therewith the duty and affection of his dying daughter. I could wish that Mary might be always with her father. He loves her, notwithstanding his conscientious scruples cause him to seem harsh; and perhaps she might feel happier when her days are numbered like mine. But I don't know---It is no doubt a painful sacrifice."
"Wherever I am," replied Brown, "my home shall be most gladly shared with Mary's father. Besides," continued he, smiling, "the prayer book should be hid, and not another word said about the surplice."
"I am glad to hear you speak so," interrupted Mary. "I was afraid you would be angry, inasmuch as I knew they would speak irreverently of our holy church."
"I was angry," answered Brown; "and I threatened that the king should be informed of heresy and treason."
"Oh, Charles, don't stir up their enemies in England," said Mary. "There are a great many good men among them; and I am sure they have difficulties enough already."
"I would not hurt a hair of their heads, if I could," rejoined her lover; "and sorry am I that my unruly tongue led me far beyond my reason in this matter. As you say, I believe some of them are conscientious; though the arch enemy of souls hath led them far from the true path of safety."
"I cannot think with you and Mary," observed Mrs. Conant, "about forms and ceremonies. But it appears to me that an error in judgment is nothing, if the life be right with God. I have lately thought that a humble heart was more than a strong mind, in perceiving the things appertaining to divine truth. Matters of dispute appear more and more like a vapor which passeth away. I have seldom joined in them; for it appears to me there is little good in being convinced, if we are not humbled; to know every thing about religion, and yet to feel little of its power--- yea, even to feel burdened with a sense of sin and misery, and yet be content to remain in it."
"Why, I must say," replied Brown, "that I think the Bible is clear enough, as explained by our holy bishops. But to my mind, the view of God's works brings more devotion than any thing relating to controversy."
"Ah, Mr. Brown, the Bible is an inspired book; but I sometimes think the Almighty suffers it to be a flaming cherubim, turning every way, and guarding the tree of life from the touch of man. But in creation, one may read to their fill. It is God's library--- the first Bible he ever wrote."
"Bless me," exclaimed Mary, "here is father at the very doors."
Her lover hastily relinquished her hand, and she sprang from his side; but there was no chance for him to retreat. Mrs. Conant's pulse throbbed high, for she saw that her husband was already in no pleasant humor. The old gentleman hung up his hat, and drew his chair forward, without being aware of the presence of any one but his own family, till Brown rose and stood before him. The countenance of Mr. Conant was flushed with anger, when he saw the bold intruder.
"Mr. Brown," said he, stamping his foot violently, "how came you hither?"
" Why , I came hither, you already know," replied the youth calmly; "and most gladly would I have had my last visit here, a peaceable one." The tyrannical man opened the door, and pointed to it, as he said, "A man may not touch pitch, and remain undefiled. I marvel if you bring not a curse on the whole house."
"I was about to depart," answered his guest; "but there is one thing I would say before I go. In my anger I spoke disrespectfully to men older and better than myself. It is a matter of choice as well as of necessity to leave New England, and be no more among you; and now, Mr. Conant, for the sake of those who are dear to me, I would fain have our parting, not that of churchman and non-conformist, but of christians."
"Out with you, and your damnable doctrines, you hypocritical son of a strange woman," exclaimed Mr. Conant.
Pride was struggling hard for utterance, as Brown moved towards the door; but for Mary's sake it was repressed---and before the old man was aware of his purpose, he stept back and took the hand of the mother and daughter, as he said,
"God bless you both. To me you have been all kindness."
He then made a formal, stately bow to Mr. Conant, who muttered,
"Take my curse with you," and slammed the door after him.
Mary rushed into her apartment, and hiding her face in the bed clothes, gave free vent to her tears.
But the poor may not long indulge their grief. Her father's supper must be prepared, and her mother's wants must not be neglected; and, with as much serenity as she could assume, she again appeared in his presence. The tears of his sickly wife had allayed the first gust of passion, and perhaps even the heart of that rigid man reproached him for its violence. However that might be, pride would suffer no symptoms of remorse to appear before his family. Every thing went wrong through the whole evening. The cake was burned,---and the milk was not sweet,---and there had been too much fire to prepare their little repast; till wearied out with his continual fretfulness, they both retired to their beds at an early hour, and Mary sobbed herself into an uneasy slumber.