I WAS astonished at the sincerity and temper of this pious
Papist, as much as I was oppressed by the power of his reasoning; and it
presently occurred to my thoughts, that if such a temper was universal, we might
be all Catholic Christians, whatever Church or particular profession we joined
in; that a spirit of charity would soon work us all up into right principles;
and as he thought that the like charity would make us all Catholics, so I told
him I believed, had all the members of his Church the like moderation, they
would soon all be Protestants. And there we left that part; for we never
disputed at all. However, I talked to him another way, and taking him by the
hand, "My friend," says I, "I wish all the clergy of the Romish Church were
blessed with such moderation, and had an equal share of your charity. I am
entirely of your opinion; but I must tell you that if you should preach such
doctrine in Spain or Italy, they would put you into the Inquisition." - "It may
be so," said he; "I know not what they would do in Spain or Italy; but I will
not say they would be the better Christians for that severity; for I am sure
there is no heresy in abounding with charity."
Well, as Will Atkins and his wife were gone, our business there was over, so
we went back our own way; and when we came back, we found them waiting to be
called in. Observing this, I asked my clergyman if we should discover to him
that we had seen him under the bush or not; and it was his opinion we should
not, but that we should talk to him first, and hear what he would say to us; so
we called him in alone, nobody being in the place but ourselves, and I began by
asking him some particulars about his parentage and education. He told me
frankly enough that his father was a clergyman who would have taught him well,
but that he, Will Atkins, despised all instruction and correction; and by his
brutish conduct cut the thread of all his father's comforts and shortened his
days, for that he broke his heart by the most ungrateful, unnatural return for
the most affectionate treatment a father ever gave.
In what he said there seemed so much sincerity of repentance, that it
painfully affected me. I could not but reflect that I, too, had shortened the
life of a good, tender father by my bad conduct and obstinate self-will. I was,
indeed, so surprised with what he had told me, that I thought, instead of my
going about to teach and instruct him, the man was made a teacher and instructor
to me in a most unexpected manner.
I laid all this before the young clergyman, who was greatly affected with it,
and said to me, "Did I not say, sir, that when this man was converted he would
preach to us all? I tell you, sir, if this one man be made a true penitent,
there will be no need of me; he will make Christians of all in the island." -
But having a little composed myself, I renewed my discourse with Will Atkins.
"But, Will," said I, "how comes the sense of this matter to touch you just now?"
W.A. - Sir, you have set me about a work that has struck a dart though my
very soul; I have been talking about God and religion to my wife, in order, as
you directed me, to make a Christian of her, and she has preached such a sermon
to me as I shall never forget while I live.
R.C. - No, no, it is not your wife has preached to you; but when you were
moving religious arguments to her, conscience has flung them back upon you.
W.A. - Ay, sir, with such force as is not to be resisted.
R.C. - Pray, Will, let us know what passed between you and your wife; for I
know something of it already.
W.A. - Sir, it is impossible to give you a full account of it; I am too full
to hold it, and yet have no tongue to express it; but let her have said what she
will, though I cannot give you an account of it, this I can tell you, that I
have resolved to amend and reform my life.
R.C. - But tell us some of it: how did you begin, Will? For this has been an
extraordinary case, that is certain. She has preached a sermon, indeed, if she
has wrought this upon you.
W.A. - Why, I first told her the nature of our laws about marriage, and what
the reasons were that men and women were obliged to enter into such compacts as
it was neither in the power of one nor other to break; that otherwise, order and
justice could not be maintained, and men would run from their wives, and abandon
their children, mix confusedly with one another, and neither families be kept
entire, nor inheritances be settled by legal descent.
R.C. - You talk like a civilian, Will. Could you make her understand what you
meant by inheritance and families? They know no such things among the savages,
but marry anyhow, without regard to relation, consanguinity, or family; brother
and sister, nay, as I have been told, even the father and the daughter, and the
son and the mother.
W.A. - I believe, sir, you are misinformed, and my wife assures me of the
contrary, and that they abhor it; perhaps, for any further relations, they may
not be so exact as we are; but she tells me never in the near relationship you
speak of.
R.C. - Well, what did she say to what you told her?
W.A. - She said she liked it very well, as it was much better than in her
country.
R.C. - But did you tell her what marriage was?
W.A. - Ay, ay, there began our dialogue. I asked her if she would be married
to me our way. She asked me what way that was; I told her marriage was appointed
by God; and here we had a strange talk together, indeed, as ever man and wife
had, I believe.
N.B. - This dialogue between Will Atkins and his wife, which I took down in
writing just after he told it me, was as follows:-
WIFE. - Appointed by your God! - Why, have you a God in your country?
W.A. - Yes, my dear, God is in every country.
WIFE. - No your God in my country; my country have the great old Benamuckee
God.
W.A. - Child, I am very unfit to show you who God is; God is in heaven and
made the heaven and the earth, the sea, and all that in them is.
WIFE. - No makee de earth; no you God makee all earth; no makee my country.
[Will Atkins laughed a little at her expression of God not making her
country.]
WIFE. - No laugh; why laugh me? This no ting to laugh.
[He was justly reproved by his wife, for she was more serious than he at
first.]
W.A. - That's true, indeed; I will not laugh any more, my dear.
WIFE. - Why you say you God makee all?
W.A. - Yes, child, our God made the whole world, and you, and me, and all
things; for He is the only true God, and there is no God but Him. He lives for
ever in heaven.
WIFE. - Why you no tell me long ago?
W.A. - That's true, indeed; but I have been a wicked wretch, and have not
only forgotten to acquaint thee with anything before, but have lived without God
in the world myself.
WIFE. - What, have you a great God in your country, you no know Him? No say O
to Him? No do good ting for Him? That no possible.
W.A. - It is true; though, for all that, we live as if there was no God in
heaven, or that He had no power on earth.
Wife. - But why God let you do so? Why He no makee you good live?
W.A. - It is all our own fault.
WIFE. - But you say me He is great, much great, have much great power; can
makee kill when He will: why He no makee kill when you no serve Him? no say O to
Him? no be good mans?
W.A. - That is true, He might strike me dead; and I ought to expect it, for I
have been a wicked wretch, that is true; but God is merciful, and does not deal
with us as we deserve.
WIFE. - But then do you not tell God thankee for that too?
W. A. - No, indeed, I have not thanked God for His mercy, any more than I
have feared God from His power.
WIFE. - Then you God no God; me no think, believe He be such one, great much
power, strong: no makee kill you, though you make Him much angry.
W.A. - What, will my wicked life hinder you from believing in God? What a
dreadful creature am I! and what a sad truth is it, that the horrid lives of
Christians hinder the conversion of heathens!
WIFE. - How me tink you have great much God up there [she points up to
heaven], and yet no do well, no do good ting? Can He tell? Sure He no tell what
you do?
W.A. - Yes, yes, He knows and sees all things; He hears us speak, sees what
we do, knows what we think though we do not speak.
WIFE. - What! He no hear you curse, swear, speak de great damn?
W.A. - Yes, yes, He hears it all.
WIFE. - Where be then the much great power strong?
W.A. - He is merciful, that is all we can say for it; and this proves Him to
be the true God; He is God, and not man, and therefore we are not consumed.
[Here Will Atkins told us he was struck with horror to think how he could
tell his wife so clearly that God sees, and hears, and knows the secret thoughts
of the heart, and all that we do, and yet that he had dared to do all the vile
things he had done.]
WIFE. - Merciful! What you call dat?
W.A. - He is our Father and Maker, and He pities and spares us.
WIFE. - So then He never makee kill, never angry when you do wicked; then He
no good Himself, or no great able.
W.A. - Yes, yes, my dear, He is infinitely good and infinitely great, and
able to punish too; and sometimes, to show His justice and vengeance, He lets
fly His anger to destroy sinners and make examples; many are cut off in their
sins.
WIFE. - But no makee kill you yet; then He tell you, maybe, that He no makee
you kill: so you makee the bargain with Him, you do bad thing, He no be angry at
you when He be angry at other mans.
W.A. - No, indeed, my sins are all presumptions upon His goodness; and He
would be infinitely just if He destroyed me, as He has done other men.
WIFE. - Well, and yet no kill, no makee you dead: what you say to Him for
that? You no tell Him thankee for all that too?
W.A. - I am an unthankful, ungrateful dog, that is true.
WIFE. - Why He no makee you much good better? you say He makee you.
W.A. - He made me as He made all the world: it is I have deformed myself and
abused His goodness, and made myself an abominable wretch.
WIFE. - I wish you makee God know me. I no makee Him angry - I no do bad
wicked thing.
[Here Will Atkins said his heart sunk within him to hear a poor untaught
creature desire to be taught to know God, and he such a wicked wretch, that he
could not say one word to her about God, but what the reproach of his own
carriage would make most irrational to her to believe; nay, that already she had
told him that she could not believe in God, because he, that was so wicked, was
not destroyed.]
W.A. - My dear, you mean, you wish I could teach you to know God, not God to
know you; for He knows you already, and every thought in your heart.
WIFE. - Why, then, He know what I say to you now: He know me wish to know
Him. How shall me know who makee me?
W.A. - Poor creature, He must teach thee: I cannot teach thee. I will pray to
Him to teach thee to know Him, and forgive me, that am unworthy to teach thee.
[The poor fellow was in such an agony at her desiring him to make her know
God, and her wishing to know Him, that he said he fell down on his knees before
her, and prayed to God to enlighten her mind with the saving knowledge of Jesus
Christ, and to pardon his sins, and accept of his being the unworthy instrument
of instructing her in the principles of religion: after which he sat down by her
again, and their dialogue went on. This was the time when we saw him kneel down
and hold up his hands.]
Wife. - What you put down the knee for? What you hold up the hand for? What
you say? Who you speak to? What is all that?
W.A. - My dear, I bow my knees in token of my submission to Him that made me:
I said O to Him, as you call it, and as your old men do to their idol
Benamuckee; that is, I prayed to Him.
WIFE. - What say you O to Him for?
W.A. - I prayed to Him to open your eyes and your understanding, that you may
know Him, and be accepted by Him.
WIFE. - Can He do that too?
W.A. - Yes, He can: He can do all things.
WIFE. - But now He hear what you say?
W.A. - Yes, He has bid us pray to Him, and promised to hear us.
WIFE. - Bid you pray? When He bid you? How He bid you? What you hear Him
speak?
W.A. - No, we do not hear Him speak; but He has revealed Himself many ways to
us.
[Here he was at a great loss to make her understand that God has revealed
Himself to us by His word, and what His word was; but at last he told it to her
thus.]
W.A. - God has spoken to some good men in former days, even from heaven, by
plain words; and God has inspired good men by His Spirit; and they have written
all His laws down in a book.
WIFE. - Me no understand that; where is book?
W.A. - Alas! my poor creature, I have not this book; but I hope I shall one
time or other get it for you, and help you to read it.
[Here he embraced her with great affection, but with inexpressible grief that
he had not a Bible.]
WIFE. - But how you makee me know that God teachee them to write that book?
W.A. - By the same rule that we know Him to be God.
WIFE. - What rule? What way you know Him?
W.A. - Because He teaches and commands nothing but what is good, righteous,
and holy, and tends to make us perfectly good, as well as perfectly happy; and
because He forbids and commands us to avoid all that is wicked, that is evil in
itself, or evil in its consequence.
WIFE. - That me would understand, that me fain see; if He teachee all good
thing, He makee all good thing, He give all thing, He hear me when I say O to
Him, as you do just now; He makee me good if I wish to be good; He spare me, no
makee kill me, when I no be good: all this you say He do, yet He be great God;
me take, think, believe Him to be great God; me say O to Him with you, my dear.
Here the poor man could forbear no longer, but raised her up, made her kneel
by him, and he prayed to God aloud to instruct her in the knowledge of Himself,
by His Spirit; and that by some good providence, if possible, she might, some
time or other, come to have a Bible, that she might read the word of God, and be
taught by it to know Him. This was the time that we saw him lift her up by the
hand, and saw him kneel down by her, as above.
They had several other discourses, it seems, after this; and particularly she
made him promise that, since he confessed his own life had been a wicked,
abominable course of provocations against God, that he would reform it, and not
make God angry any more, lest He should make him dead, as she called it, and
then she would be left alone, and never be taught to know this God better; and
lest he should be miserable, as he had told her wicked men would be after death.
This was a strange account, and very affecting to us both, but particularly
to the young clergyman; he was, indeed, wonderfully surprised with it, but under
the greatest affliction imaginable that he could not talk to her, that he could
not speak English to make her understand him; and as she spoke but very broken
English, he could not understand her; however, he turned himself to me, and told
me that he believed that there must be more to do with this woman than to marry
her. I did not understand him at first; but at length he explained himself, viz.
that she ought to be baptized. I agreed with him in that part readily, and
wished it to be done presently. "No, no; hold, sir," says he; "though I would
have her be baptized, by all means, for I must observe that Will Atkins, her
husband, has indeed brought her, in a wonderful manner, to be willing to embrace
a religious life, and has given her just ideas of the being of a God; of His
power, justice, and mercy: yet I desire to know of him if he has said anything
to her of Jesus Christ, and of the salvation of sinners; of the nature of faith
in Him, and redemption by Him; of the Holy Spirit, the resurrection, the last
judgment, and the future state."
I called Will Atkins again, and asked him; but the poor fellow fell
immediately into tears, and told us he had said something to her of all those
things, but that he was himself so wicked a creature, and his own conscience so
reproached him with his horrid, ungodly life, that he trembled at the
apprehensions that her knowledge of him should lessen the attention she should
give to those things, and make her rather contemn religion than receive it; but
he was assured, he said, that her mind was so disposed to receive due
impressions of all those things, and that if I would but discourse with her, she
would make it appear to my satisfaction that my labour would not be lost upon
her.
Accordingly I called her in, and placing myself as interpreter between my
religious priest and the woman, I entreated him to begin with her; but sure such
a sermon was never preached by a Popish priest in these latter ages of the
world; and as I told him, I thought he had all the zeal, all the knowledge, all
the sincerity of a Christian, without the error of a Roman Catholic; and that I
took him to be such a clergyman as the Roman bishops were before the Church of
Rome assumed spiritual sovereignty over the consciences of men. In a word, he
brought the poor woman to embrace the knowledge of Christ, and of redemption by
Him, not with wonder and astonishment only, as she did the first notions of a
God, but with joy and faith; with an affection, and a surprising degree of
understanding, scarce to be imagined, much less to be expressed; and, at her own
request, she was baptized.
When he was preparing to baptize her, I entreated him that he would perform
that office with some caution, that the man might not perceive he was of the
Roman Church, if possible, because of other ill consequences which might attend
a difference among us in that very religion which we were instructing the other
in. He told me that as he had no consecrated chapel, nor proper things for the
office, I should see he would do it in a manner that I should not know by it
that he was a Roman Catholic myself, if I had not known it before; and so he
did; for saying only some words over to himself in Latin, which I could not
understand, he poured a whole dishful of water upon the woman's head,
pronouncing in French, very loud, "Mary" (which was the name her husband desired
me to give her, for I was her godfather), "I baptize thee in the name of the
Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost;" so that none could know anything
by it what religion he was of. He gave the benediction afterwards in Latin, but
either Will Atkins did not know but it was French, or else did not take notice
of it at that time.
As soon as this was over we married them; and after the marriage was over, he
turned to Will Atkins, and in a very affectionate manner exhorted him, not only
to persevere in that good disposition he was in, but to support the convictions
that were upon him by a resolution to reform his life: told him it was in vain
to say he repented if he did not forsake his crimes; represented to him how God
had honoured him with being the instrument of bringing his wife to the knowledge
of the Christian religion, and that he should be careful he did not dishonour
the grace of God; and that if he did, he would see the heathen a better
Christian than himself; the savage converted, and the instrument cast away. He
said a great many good things to them both; and then, recommending them to God's
goodness, gave them the benediction again, I repeating everything to them in
English; and thus ended the ceremony. I think it was the most pleasant and
agreeable day to me that ever I passed in my whole life. But my clergyman had
not done yet: his thoughts hung continually upon the conversion of the
thirty-seven savages, and fain be would have stayed upon the island to have
undertaken it; but I convinced him, first, that his undertaking was
impracticable in itself; and, secondly, that perhaps I would put it into a way
of being done in his absence to his satisfaction.
Having thus brought the affairs of the island to a narrow compass, I was
preparing to go on board the ship, when the young man I had taken out of the
famished ship's company came to me, and told me he understood I had a clergyman
with me, and that I had caused the Englishmen to be married to the savages; that
he had a match too, which he desired might be finished before I went, between
two Christians, which he hoped would not be disagreeable to me.
I knew this must be the young woman who was his mother's servant, for there
was no other Christian woman on the island: so I began to persuade him not to do
anything of that kind rashly, or because be found himself in this solitary
circumstance. I represented to him that he had some considerable substance in
the world, and good friends, as I understood by himself, and the maid also; that
the maid was not only poor, and a servant, but was unequal to him, she being six
or seven and twenty years old, and he not above seventeen or eighteen; that he
might very probably, with my assistance, make a remove from this wilderness, and
come into his own country again; and that then it would be a thousand to one but
he would repent his choice, and the dislike of that circumstance might be
disadvantageous to both. I was going to say more, but he interrupted me,
smiling, and told me, with a great deal of modesty, that I mistook in my guesses
- that he had nothing of that kind in his thoughts; and he was very glad to hear
that I had an intent of putting them in a way to see their own country again;
and nothing should have made him think of staying there, but that the voyage I
was going was so exceeding long and hazardous, and would carry him quite out of
the reach of all his friends; that he had nothing to desire of me but that I
would settle him in some little property in the island where he was, give him a
servant or two, and some few necessaries, and he would live here like a planter,
waiting the good time when, if ever I returned to England, I would redeem him.
He hoped I would not be unmindful of him when I came to England: that he would
give me some letters to his friends in London, to let them know how good I had
been to him, and in what part of the world and what circumstances I had left him
in: and he promised me that whenever I redeemed him, the plantation, and all the
improvements he had made upon it, let the value be what it would, should be
wholly mine.
His discourse was very prettily delivered, considering his youth, and was the
more agreeable to me, because he told me positively the match was not for
himself. I gave him all possible assurances that if I lived to come safe to
England, I would deliver his letters, and do his business effectually; and that
he might depend I should never forget the circumstances I had left him in. But
still I was impatient to know who was the person to be married; upon which he
told me it was my Jack-of-all-trades and his maid Susan. I was most agreeably
surprised when he named the match; for, indeed, I thought it very suitable. The
character of that man I have given already; and as for the maid, she was a very
honest, modest, sober, and religious young woman: had a very good share of
sense, was agreeable enough in her person, spoke very handsomely and to the
purpose, always with decency and good manners, and was neither too backward to
speak when requisite, nor impertinently forward when it was not her business;
very handy and housewifely, and an excellent manager; fit, indeed, to have been
governess to the whole island; and she knew very well how to behave in every
respect.
The match being proposed in this manner, we married them the same day; and as
I was father at the altar, and gave her away, so I gave her a portion; for I
appointed her and her husband a handsome large space of ground for their
plantation; and indeed this match, and the proposal the young gentleman made to
give him a small property in the island, put me upon parcelling it out amongst
them, that they might not quarrel afterwards about their situation.
This sharing out the land to them I left to Will Atkins, who was now grown a
sober, grave, managing fellow, perfectly reformed, exceedingly pious and
religious; and, as far as I may be allowed to speak positively in such a case, I
verily believe he was a true penitent. He divided things so justly, and so much
to every one's satisfaction, that they only desired one general writing under my
hand for the whole, which I caused to be drawn up, and signed and sealed,
setting out the bounds and situation of every man's plantation, and testifying
that I gave them thereby severally a right to the whole possession and
inheritance of the respective plantations or farms, with their improvements, to
them and their heirs, reserving all the rest of the island as my own property,
and a certain rent for every particular plantation after eleven years, if I, or
any one from me, or in my name, came to demand it, producing an attested copy of
the same writing. As to the government and laws among them, I told them I was
not capable of giving them better rules than they were able to give themselves;
only I made them promise me to live in love and good neighbourhood with one
another; and so I prepared to leave them.
One thing I must not omit, and that is, that being now settled in a kind of
commonwealth among themselves, and having much business in hand, it was odd to
have seven-and-thirty Indians live in a nook of the island, independent, and,
indeed, unemployed; for except the providing themselves food, which they had
difficulty enough to do sometimes, they had no manner of business or property to
manage. I proposed, therefore, to the governor Spaniard that he should go to
them, with Friday's father, and propose to them to remove, and either plant for
themselves, or be taken into their several families as servants to be maintained
for their labour, but without being absolute slaves; for I would not permit them
to make them slaves by force, by any means; because they had their liberty given
them by capitulation, as it were articles of surrender, which they ought not to
break.
They most willingly embraced the proposal, and came all very cheerfully along
with him: so we allotted them land and plantations, which three or four accepted
of, but all the rest chose to be employed as servants in the several families we
had settled. Thus my colony was in a manner settled as follows: The Spaniards
possessed my original habitation, which was the capital city, and extended their
plantations all along the side of the brook, which made the creek that I have so
often described, as far as my bower; and as they increased their culture, it
went always eastward. The English lived in the north-east part, where Will
Atkins and his comrades began, and came on southward and south- west, towards
the back part of the Spaniards; and every plantation had a great addition of
land to take in, if they found occasion, so that they need not jostle one
another for want of room. All the east end of the island was left uninhabited,
that if any of the savages should come on shore there only for their customary
barbarities, they might come and go; if they disturbed nobody, nobody would
disturb them: and no doubt but they were often ashore, and went away again; for
I never heard that the planters were ever attacked or disturbed any more.
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