demanded an appeal to the king; it was refused; and he was given fourteen
days to leave Massachusetts. So he went forth alone in the bitter winter
weather and journeyed to the Piscataqua,--yet "it was marvellous he got
thither at that time, when they expelled him, by reason of the deep snow
in which he might have perished." [Footnote: Wheelwright, Prince Soc. ed.
_Mercurius Americanus_, p. 24.] Nor was banishment by any means the
trivial penalty it has been described. On the contrary, it was a
punishment of the utmost rigor. The exiles were forced suddenly to dispose
of their property, which, in those times, was mostly in houses and land,
and go forth among the savages with helpless women and children. Such an
ordeal might well appall even a brave man; but Wheelwright was sacrificing
his intellectual life. He was leaving books, friends, and the mental
activity, which made the world to him, to settle in the forests among
backwoodsmen; and yet even in this desolate solitude the theocracy
continued to pursue him with persevering hate.

But there were others beside Wheelwright who had sinned, and some pretext
had to be devised by which to reach them. The names of most of his friends
were upon the petition that had been drawn up after his trial. It is true
it was a proceeding with which the existing legislature was not concerned,
since it had been presented to one of its predecessors; it is also true
that probably never, before or since, have men who have protested they
have not drawn the sword rashly, but have come as humble suppliants to
offer their cheeks to the smiters, been held to be public enemies. Such
scruples, however, never hampered the theocracy. Their justice was
trammelled neither by judges, by juries, nor by laws; the petition was
declared to be a seditious libel, and the petitioners were given their
choice of disavowing their act and making humble submission, or exile.

Aspinwall was at once disfranchised and banished. [Footnote: _Mass.