To Execute or Pardon?
It’s been another historic week for this year: the King gave his assent to the Act of Indemnity on Wednesday, putting an end to fear of execution by all who sided against his father during the Wars of the Three Kingdoms. Or, in the case of those excluded from the indemnity, putting an end to them.
But how do you choose who to execute and who to pardon? Take Colonel Scroope for instance. Cromwell compelled him into service as head of security during the so-called ‘trial’ of Charles I, and thus required him to sign the king’s death warrant. But the Colonel has avoided all political wranglings since, and quickly agreed to pay a fine to preserve his life under Wednesday’s Act.
Except, at the last minute (almost literally – Tuesday!), the House of Lords declared that he would not now be protected by the new Act, and he has thus still been arrested and condemned to death for treason.
I’m sure our Lords have reasons for such machinations. But how are we commoners meant to judge our attitudes to one another when given such examples? Indeed, I had a case of my own to try this week…
Towards the end of last week, Mr Jenkins trusted me with half a crown to send his son. The last I saw of that money was when I asked my boy Will to secure it in my desk for me. However, when I went to retrieve it last Tuesday, I found it gone.
Naturally, I confronted young Will. He denied it, of course, putting on a show of the greatest confidence at his innocence.
However, my wife and our wench Jane together kept an eye on him throughout the following day. On both my returns home that Wednesday, Elizabeth presented proof of further thefts by the boy – including 6s from our friend Will Hewer who currently resides with us.
The rogue had only gone and hidden his plunder in the privy! And yet then he expressed himself stricken with great sorrow – though I expect not as much for his crime as for his being caught.
I dared not trust his word that he would give up his habit of larceny, especially after that Wednesday night. Soon after we had doused the candle, Jane rose from her truckle at the end of our bed and shook us awake, and bid us hark the sound of the boy scurrying about.
This instantly put Elizabeth into such a fright that she shook, every joint of her. We all feared that the boy intended to do some mischief in response to our accusations – either unto himself, or to Mr Hewer.
We sent Jane to check up on him – she is a hearty wench. Luckily, he was contained in his bed, so she locked him in fast, then left the candle lit all night so he could not hide in the shadows.
So what were we to do? Theft of a single shilling is punishable by death, but this lad hath stolen almost a pound! Should we hand him to a magistrate? Send him straight to the vicar to let the clergy decide his penalty? Or… what?
I am of a mind to treat him compassionately, though, in the hope of equal treatment from Our Lord on High. The Good Book speaks of a creditor who harshly demanded payment from his debtor, and so received equally harsh treatment from his king.
Likewise, we seem to be living in a time when the slightest transgression can transform one’s prospects. Just at the end of this Saturday, we learned that the King hath issued a warrant to replace our good friend Bickerstaffe with Mr Baron for the role of Privy Seal clerk. Yes, Baron was one who conveyed messages to His Majesty while he resided in Holland, but Bickerstaffe has numerous years more experience. One can only assume Bickerstaffe did something to displease the crown.
There are other reasons to be in a compassionate mind, though. For one, my Lord is soon to depart to collect the King’s sister, Princess Mary, from Holland. For another, I have managed to let my house in Axe Yard to the keeper of the King’s wine cellar, Mr Dalton, for a full 20l profit!
And for yet another, Elizabeth asked me to provide her with music lessons this week, and she quickly proved apt beyond imagination. The delight of her talent has easily put from my mind the troubles of Will’s roguery, the uncertainty of one’s employment these days, and the fact that my mother has been so dreadfully ill this week that I fear she will not last long.
Ah… and today, in the company of Mr Moore and Dr Clerk at The Bull Head, I enjoyed the best venison pasty that ever I ate in my life.
Maybe compassion is the rightful path after all?
How do you react when you discover someone has wronged you?
I shall be delighted to hear from you! Please reply to this post so we can exchange our thoughts…
My purse
I am most lately 249l clear in my purse.
In return for the smiles you took from these words, please send them to a friend!
Your smiles will then be compounded twice: once for sharing joy with your friend, then again for my undying gratitude. {:-)
I'm excited to see how attitudes have changed since the 17th century...
How do you react when you discover someone has wronged you?