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display of public charity here than in any other part of America.”82 While vis-
iting the colonies, Brissot also observed that “˜[u]pon an attentive examination
of the contributions of their churches, schools, hospitals and other charita-
ble institutions, there appears a degree of philanthropy that should disarm
envy and ridicule.™”83 Their efforts began in England and were continued in
America.84 The dozens of organizations they established and directed included
libraries, schools, almshouses, learned societies, a hospital, ¬re companies, and
societies to aid oppressed groups such as slaves, “distressed prisoners,” and the
poor and to improve relations with the Indians through “paci¬c measures.”
Many of these societies were the ¬rst of their kind in the colonies, many of
them lasted well into the nineteenth century, and new ones were continually
established.85 Quakers set an example for their Evangelical counterparts who,

82 “New York and Philadelphia in 1787,” PMHB vol. 12, no. 1 (1888), 97“115, 114.
83 Brissot de Warville quoting “a Pennsylvanian,” in A Critical Examination, 49.
84 On their seventeenth-century activities, see Mack, Visionary Women, 4.
85 See James, A People among Peoples; Jean Barth Toll and Mildred S. Gillam, eds., Invisi-
ble Philadelphia: Community through Voluntary Organizations (Philadelphia: Atwater Kent
Museum, 1995).
154 Quaker Constitutionalism in Theory and Practice

once mobilized in the early nineteenth century, took the lead in establishing
reform societies of their own.
All of these laws and institutions demonstrate a sort of forgiveness and
optimism that we do not see among other religious groups and governments.
Because of Quakers™ belief in the possibility of human perfection, but also the
probability of imperfection, they were more inclined to see the unfortunate
as truly unfortunate rather than sinful. This benevolence cannot rightly be
called philanthropy, however, because it was not directed toward the man as
a creature but rather the salvation of his soul. It was a subtle paternalism
wielded by the elders of the meeting over their wayward brethren. The French
did not recognize the distinctive practices of Friends for what they were “
religious testimonies. They took them instead as ideal civic behavior. They
projected rationalism onto Pennsylvania, which turned Quaker proselytizing
into humanitarianism and spiritual egalitarianism into civil equality. Thus the
“Good Quaker” was born.86

Legal and Moral Guides toward Quakerism
The image some political historians have presented of Pennsylvania has been
through a lens distorted by modern priorities and understandings. Daniel
Elazar, for example, describes Pennsylvania™s as an “individualistic” politi-
cal culture with a government established “for strictly utilitarian reasons” and
with “no direct concern with questions of the good society.”87 Eighteenth-
century idealists made a similar mistake when they found the Quakers were
“without municipal government, without police, without any means of coer-
cion for the administration of the state.” But in this view it was not because
they were unconcerned with creating a good society, but rather it was their
“entirely moral” customs that naturally cultivated it.88
Yet if benevolence might be mistaken for liberalism, it would be hard to
reconcile this interpretation of Pennsylvania with much of Quaker legal and
cultural restriction. Pennsylvania™s lenient stance on some issues was only one
half of the equation for Quakerizing the colony. There was a manifestly pater-
nalistic quality to Quaker rule. Friends were well aware that for every liberty
granted, there was the potential of the abuse of that liberty89 or, more specif-
ically, the misperception that that liberty of conscience meant unfettered free-
dom to follow one™s own interpretation of God™s will. Barclay made it clear
that the church had authority over matters of the conscience and the power
to discipline members for transgression of divine order. He wrote, “That any
particular Persons de facto or effectually giving out a positive judgment, is not
86 Echeverria argues that “there is no evidence apart from the legend of the ˜Good Quaker™ that
the Physiocratic or Rousseauistic idealization of the American was as yet a popular concept
familiar to the general literate public” (Mirage in the West, 36).
87 Elazar, American Federalism, 115“17.
88 Brissot quoted in Philips, The Good Quaker, 121.
89 See also Schwartz, “A Mixed Multitude,” 31.
Civil Unity and Dissention 155

Incroaching nor Imposing upon their Brethren™s Consciences.”90 Friends under
the jurisdiction of PYM were reminded that “[t]he awful prudent and watchful
Conduct of our friends in early Days, did, and such always will, preach and
extend silently to the notice of all.”91 But in case this form of preaching by
example did not work on society at large, Friends would try another tack.
One highly visible way Pennsylvania took shape as a Quaker experiment
was in its regulatory laws. To counter the potential for licentiousness inherent
in their “liberal” policies, Friends in of¬ce attempted to regulate the polity the
way they regulated the meeting “ by imposing a strict communal discipline.92
Pennsylvania civil society was thus characterized as much by its restrictions as
its liberties. Opponents condemned the government in Pennsylvania because
of “the Quakers Tyrannical Reign, and Arbitrary Government; together with
their Persecutions, and Partial Proceedings in their Courts of Judicature.”93
Especially in the early part of the century, Friends concerned themselves
greatly with how people lived their lives down to the smallest detail of how they
entertained themselves, how they imbibed their drinks, how they conducted
themselves in the marketplace, how they dressed, and how they styled their
hair. Public morality was the subject of more than forty laws passed between
1682 and 1709.94 While the crown did not legitimate all of these laws, nor were
they reinstated throughout the entire colonial period, the restrictions Quaker
law and culture placed on public morality in Philadelphia shaped the culture
of the city for the entire colonial period. It was only after the Quaker Party
was forced from of¬ce and the Charter of Privileges abolished in 1776 that the
Quaker grasp on the city was truly loosened, though not broken.
The “excellent legislation,” as some saw it,95 in Pennsylvania ranged from
minor Quaker idiosyncrasies, such as requiring recognition of the numerical
naming of dates, to the more stringent codes on public behavior. Almost all
of these laws are directly traceable to the Quaker religious Discipline.96 Pre-
dictably, Quakers banned “rude or riotous sports, as prizes, stage-plays, masks,
revels, bull-baitings, cock-¬ghtings, [and] bon¬res.”97 A later rewrite of this law
added tennis to the litany of “riotous sports.” Similarly, the Quakers™ admo-
nition to the members of their Society in 1722 to avoid “impudent noisy &
indecent behaviour in Markets and other publick places” was translated into
laws against swearing, scolding, smoking, and dueling. But more distinctly

90 Barclay, Anarchy, 73.
91 Philadelphia Yearly Meeting, Minutes, 1682“1746, FHL.
92 Tolles, Meeting House and Counting House, 64.
93 Bugg, Quakerism Anatomized, 443.
94 LL, 1: 18. However, Marietta and Rowe demonstrate that the laws were largely unenforced in
the later period of Quaker rule.
95 Raynal quoted in Philips, The Good Quaker, 100.
96 For example, compare the religious rules in Philadelphia Yearly Meetings, Books of Discipline,
HQC, and Hugh Barbour and J. William Frost, “Chapter 10: A Disciplined Christian Life,” in
The Quakers, 107“17 with the civil law in Statutes and LL.
97 Statutes, 1: 5.
156 Quaker Constitutionalism in Theory and Practice

Quaker was their aversion to seemingly innocent activities such as toasting
healths. A law stated that “every person that shall drink healths which shall
promote excessive drinking” shall pay a ¬ne and do hard labor.98 Crevec“ur
found it pleasing not to be subjected to the “irksome labour of toasts” in
Bartram™s home.99 As the century progressed, Quakers also began to de¬ne
the idea of gentility away from the culture of heavy drinking and began what
would blossom into the temperance movement of the nineteenth century.100
Although some scholars now and then have considered Philadelphia to be
“the most liberal and advanced city in the world before 1750, ˜the city of
¬rsts,™”101 others see it as “backward” when compared with artistic expres-
sion in Massachusetts, New York, and Carolina. “Prior to the middle of the
eighteenth century,” writes an historian of music, “Quaker in¬‚uences had been
strong enough to repress almost wholly any public rendering of music outside
the churches, even to discourage individual efforts in the homes of citizens.”102
A similar, though more stringent prohibition existed against the theater. In
the religious discipline of Friends, it was written that none should “suffer
Romances, play-books, or other vain or idle pamphlets in their house or fami-
lies.”103 Friends included theater in this category and extended the restriction
to the general public when they passed “[a]n act against riots, rioters, and
riotous sports, plays and games” in 1710. Throughout their time in of¬ce,
Friends battled aggressively against the theater, a crusade that continued into
the nineteenth century.104 A visitor to Philadelphia in 1825 remarked that
“those [buildings] for public purposes are superior in any point of style, to any
in the United States “ excepting the Theatres.”105
Interestingly, after the barrage of laws passed early on, historians have noted
a surprising lack of legislation in the middle decades of the century.106 They
have suggested rightly that Friends expected regulation to come in other ways
than outward, top-down coercion. The ideal was that individuals would be

98 Ibid., 99.
99 Cr` vec“ur, Letters from an American Farmer, 191.
100 Peter Thompson, “˜The Friendly Glass™: Drink and Gentility in Colonial Philadelphia,” PMHB
vol. 113, no. 4 (1989), 549“73, 555. See also Thompson, Rum Punch and Revolution: Tav-
erngoing & Public Life in Eighteenth-Century Philadelphia (Philadelphia: University of Penn-
sylvania Press, 1999).
101 Thomas Clark Pollock, The Philadelphia Theatre in the Eighteenth Century (Philadelphia:
University of Pennsylvania Press, 1933), xv.
102 Harold D. Eberlein and Cortlandt Van Dyke Hubbard, “Music in the Early Federal Era,”
PMHB vol. 69, no. 2 (1945), 103“127, 105.
103 Philadelphia Yearly Meeting, Minutes, 1682“1746, FHL.
104 John P. Sheldon, “A Description of Philadelphia in 1825,” PMHB vol. 60, no. 1 (1936), 74“76,
76. This is in contrast to several other colonies, including New York and Virginia, where plays
were tolerated or encouraged as early as the seventeenth century. See George C. D. Odell,
Annals of the New York Stage (New York: Columbia University, 1927“49), 1: 3“31.
105 Sheldon, “A Description of Philadelphia,” 76.
106 Robert S. Hohwald, “The Structure of Pennsylvania Politics, 1739“1766” (Ph.D. Diss., Prince-
ton University, 1978); Tully, Forming American Politics, 339; Beeman, Varieties of Political
Experience, 214“15.
Civil Unity and Dissention 157

regulated by the Light. When that was unlikely, their preferred approach was
rather the “soft persuasion” of the sort Woolman exhibited when dealing with
slave owners; only, many people did not ¬nd it so soft or bene¬cent. Some
Quaker testimonies, while not codi¬ed into law, were nonetheless enforced in
public forums, and to the great consternation of some non-Quakers. Where
Quakers were once excluded from participation in the political and judicial
systems for not taking oaths, they now excluded non-Quakers who would
not adopt this testimony. In 1740 future provincial secretary Richard Peters
complained that the Quaker magistrates of Chester County “had the impru-
dence . . . to set a Juryman aside because he wou™d not take Af¬rmation (there
being none present whose consciences as they say wou™d permit them to ten-
der an Oath).” A prominent non-Quaker warned them “of the Illegality of
their proceeding” and told “that by this means they took away the Security
the Law had provided for the Preservation of mens Lives Liberties & Proper-
ties.” It was the general belief at the time “that every Person who was to give
Evidence in any cause should not be permitted to do so till he had given the
highest Test he cou™d give of his Varacity.” Anything less than an oath would
not bind a man to honesty. The Quakers were accordingly “warned . . . in a
very friendly manner of the ill use that People who are not of their Persuasion
wou™d make of such an unjusti¬able step at this time.” But Friends paid no
heed and instead dismissed the ¬rst man and “call™d another who wou™d take
the Af¬rmation.” It was this kind of behavior, this willful disregard of how
their testimonies might be abused in the wrong hands, that caused Peters to
believe that “[t]he Quakers in the Capacity of the Assemblymen have drawn
the Eyes of Mankind upon them & made themselves liable to many disadvan-
tageous Re¬‚ections.”107 It was one thing to not swear an oath as a Quaker; it
was another to let non-Quakers go without swearing one. Expecting Quakerly
honesty from non-Quakers was, contemporaries thought, clearly na¨ve at best,
and legal malpractice at worst.
As Quaker of¬cials were vigorous in shaping early Pennsylvania from the
top down, so were prominent Friends active in grassroots reform to mold the
society in the image of the meeting. Historian of Quaker penology Harry Elmer
Barnes notes that “the Quakers did not rely merely on legal regulation to secure
a high degree of public morality, but resorted to an almost-Calvinistic type of
inquisitorial supervision over the morality of private citizens.”109 Where the
Quaker Discipline was not codi¬ed into law, individual Friends took it upon
themselves to offer “close hints” to non-Friends about deportment, clothing,
hairstyles, worldly possessions, pastimes, and other things that could, as far
as Friends were concerned, inhibit a person™s progress toward salvation.110
107 Richard Peters Letterbook, 1739“41, 18, HSP.
108 For Quakers in the Assembly reprimanded for administering oaths to non-Quakers, see PA, 5:
109 Barnes, The Evolution of Penology in Pennsylvania, 32.
110 In their journals and letters, many Quakers write about giving such “hints.” See, for example,
Journal of George Churchman, 1759“1813, passim, HQC.
158 Quaker Constitutionalism in Theory and Practice

George Churchman wrote in his journal about “a loving hint which I had to
give to a young man . . . relating to his fashionable coat, was well taken, & I
hope is likely to have some good effect.” Similarly, Warner Mif¬‚in “told a little
Girl, perhaps 9 years old, about the uncomeliness of having a Roller put in her
hair. Also to the mother he hinted the necessity of Care to direct the minds
of her Children in the right way whilst they are young & tender.”111 Friends
were not just concerned about spreading their message, however. They also
monitored the reactions of the recipients of their hints to see what in¬‚uence
they might have had. In this particular case, Churchman noted with satisfaction
that “this conversation appear™d to have some effect on the Child, so that when
a young woman went to comb & dress her hair as usual . . . she refused to have
the Roller put on, saying she did not want it anymore.”112
For Quakers, of course, public morality and dissent were intimately con-
nected. Dissent from ungodly behavior was, after all, a duty to the polity. This
ethic is exhibited nowhere more clearly than in the Quaker practice of boy-
cotting.113 Friends were not just some of the most successful merchants in the
colonies, they were also savvy consumers. They used their purchasing power
as a proselytizing tool. John Woolman, Benjamin Lay, Anthony Benezet, and
Joshua Evans were all prominent Friends who testi¬ed against such practices as
using sugar and tea, wearing dyed clothing, eating meat, and riding in carriages
to advocate frugality over luxury, abolitionism over slavery, and humane treat-
ment of animals instead of abuse by refusing to spend their money on these
things or otherwise perpetuate their existence through consumption.114 In the
1730s, Benjamin Lay smashed his wife™s tea set to protest the use of cane sugar
produced with slave labor,115 and later, toward the end of the century, Friends
tried to cultivate substitutes such as maple sugar.116 Joshua Evens also found
“inconsistencies in the use of East India Tea, and that it sprang from an evil
Root” in that poor people would sacri¬ce food for the sake of indulging in vain
custom of tea drinking.117 They did these things publicly, and often endured
111 Journal of George Churchman, 7th mo. 27th day, 1806, 9: 69, HQC.
112 Ibid., 7th mo. 24th day, 1781, 4: 86, HQC.
113 There is no history of the boycott that treats pre-Revolutionary America. The most detailed
study of the idea of the boycott in American history merely mentions that the Sons of Liberty
used this resistance technique against the British. See Gary Minda, Boycott in America: How
Imagination and Ideology Shape the Legal Mind (Carbondale: Southern Illinois University
Press, 1999), 33“34. In “Narrative of Commercial Life: Consumption, Ideology, and Commu-
nity on the Eve of the American Revolution,” WMQ 3rd ser., vol. 50, no. 3 (1993), 471“501,
T. H. Breen notes that American historians have accepted the boycotts during the Revolution
as a matter of course. But, ignoring Quaker boycotts that began in the early eighteenth century,
he errs on the other side by assuming “their utter novelty” at the Revolution (486).
114 Nash and Soderlund, Freedom by Degrees; Phillips P. Moulton, ed., The Journal and Major
Essays of John Woolman (Richmond, IN: Friends United Press, 1989); and Journal of Joshua
Evans, FHL; Anthony Benezet, Memoirs of the Life of Anthony Benezet, Roberts Vaux, ed.
(Philadelphia, 1817).
115 Nash and Soderlund, Freedom by Degrees, 49.
116 James Bringhurst to John Murray, 5th mo. 12th day 1790, Bringhurst Letters, FHL.
117 Journal of Joshua Evans, 14, FHL.
Civil Unity and Dissention 159

the ridicule of not just non-Quakers, but some of their own brethren as well.
Evans found that his principled vegetarianism caused his “chiefest friends to
stand aloof from me,” and that “the Cross in wearing white Cloths was more
than I could bear.”118
Abbe Raynal proclaimed that “[n]ever perhaps had virtue inspired legislation
better designed to bring happiness to man.”119 For all this regulation, however,
both of¬cial and informal, according to some Quakers, the Holy Experiment
was not all that it could or should be where morality was concerned. There were
many so-called “wet Quakers” “ those who had become more concerned with
their worldly than their spiritual lives “ and a substantial population of non-
Quakers whose consciences did not trouble them about drinking, dancing, or
playing tennis.120 In 1751 the minister Thomas Chalkley had a few complaints
about the spiritual condition of the colony, and everyone from the most humble
to the highest-ranking of¬cial bore responsibility for the depraved state of
affairs. Kept awake one night because of his concerns, he wrote:

[T]he Lord was angry with the People of Philadelphia and Pensylvania, because of the
great Sins and Wickedness which were committed by the Inhabitants, in Publick Houses,
and elsewhere: and that the Lord was angry with the Magistrates also, because they
use not their Power as they might do, in order to suppress Wickedness; and do not, so
much as they ought, put the Laws already made in Execution against Prophaneness and
Immorality: And the Lord is angry with the Representatives of the People of the Land,
because they take not so much care to suppress Vice and Wickedness.121

Chalkley reminisced longingly of the days when politicians would prowl the
streets, seeking out and admonishing transgressors of the civil and gospel order.
“It is worthy of Commendation,” he opined, “that our Governor, Thomas
Lloyd, sometimes in the Evening, before he went to Rest, us™d to go in Person
to Publick Houses, and order the People, he found there, to their own Houses,
till, at length, he was instrumental to promote better Order, and did, in a great
Measure, suppress Vice and Immorality in the City.”122
From the comments of visitors to Philadelphia, however, the Quaker laws
and customs were none too lax. They not only remarked on the religious diver-
sity but also the plainness of the clothing; the lack of seasonal and daily greet-
ings and polite customs such as removing the hat, the use of thee and thou, the
strangeness of antitoasting laws, and the lack of the arts and entertainment.123
The restrictions Quakers placed on the public culture shaped the province well

118 Ibid., 17, 12.
119 Raynal quoted in Echeverria, Mirage in the West, 73.
120 On “wet Quakers,” see Tolles, Meeting House and Counting House, 142.
121 Chalkley, “The Journal of Thomas Chalkley,” 203“4.
122 Ibid., 204.
123 An excellent source for observations on the Quakerization of Philadelphia is Paul Hubert
Smith, ed., Letters from the Delegates to Congress, 1774“1789, 25 vols. (Summer¬eld, FL:
Historical Database, 1995). (Hereafter referred to as Delegates.)
160 Quaker Constitutionalism in Theory and Practice

beyond the days when Quakers governed it. As late as the 1790s, a French-
man visiting Philadelphia believed that the “melancholy customs of this city”
were a Quaker legacy.124 On the other hand, another visitor remarked in 1825
that “Philadelphia is fortunate in having for its citizens so many quakers their
industry, sobriety, cleanliness, and steady habits, and honesty, are constantly
before other classes of citizens as examples, and cannot fail to be, in some
degree, contagious.”125 This contagion was exactly what Friends hoped for.

Institutionalized Dissent
Even as Quakers were imposing restrictions on Pennsylvania™s inhabitants, they
were teaching them Quakerly behavior in another way. Like the ¬rst years of
the colony, the middle decades were characterized by continual battles between
the Assembly and the proprietors and their deputies, which were increasingly
hostile to Quaker interests. Now, however, not only were the proprietors no
longer Quaker, they were Anglicans, and also the Quaker Assembly was now
uni¬ed. Moreover, they were educating non-Quakers in their culture of dissent
and enlisting them in their campaign of resistance. So successful were Friends
in their attempts to excite partisanship that historians argue this period marks
the beginning of the identi¬cation in the public mind of popular rights with the
so-called “Quaker Party.”126 On the other hand, some scholars have claimed
that Quaker Pennsylvania did not have a “strong dissenting tradition” when
compared to Calvinist or Anglican colonies. While it is true that in some
ways they did not “present as sharp a challenge to the established order,” as
the argument here will suggest, in other ways their dissent penetrated more
The era began with a con¬‚uence of events. In the late 1730s, the Penn fam-
ily was emerging from a dif¬cult time ¬nancially and legally and refocusing its
attention on Pennsylvania. Thomas Penn appointed George Thomas as lieu-
tenant governor in 1738. No great supporter of the Quakers, Thomas became
the ¬rst leader of the growing challenge to Quaker hegemony “ the Propri-
etary Party.128 Although Quakers had a long history of resisting proprietary

124 Quoted in Kenneth and Anna M. Roberts, trans. and eds., Moreau de St. M´ ry™s American
Journey, 1793“98 (Garden City, NJ: Doubleday, 1947), 280.
125 Sheldon, “A Description of Philadelphia,” 76.
126 Tully, Forming American Politics, 408“10. The 1740s and 1750s were characterized by intense
strife with the proprietary governors. A synopsis of all the gubernatorial administrations and
the con¬‚icts is in LL, 2: 57“70. Because of the “inexhaustible points of contention” between
the two parties and the similar methods each used in all disputes to check one another™s power,
this discussion, for reasons explained later, focuses on the administration of George Thomas.
127 Richard Alan Ryerson, “Political Mobilization and the American Revolution: The Resistance
Movement in Philadelphia, 1765“1776,” WMQ 3rd ser., vol. 31, no. 4 (1974), 556“588, 584.
128 Beeman notes that the term party is not really applicable to those allied with the Proprietors
because they never formed a coherent identity as did the Quakers (Varieties of Political Experi-
ence, 208). To use this term is, indeed, in a sense, the imposition of an anachronism; however,
I will persist in using it as the actors used it themselves, as a synonym for faction.
Civil Unity and Dissention 161

authority, this new animosity was not between warring factions of Quaker
politicians. The new Proprietary faction, while only a loose coalition, consisted
of a good number of Presbyterians, Lutherans, and members of the German
reformed church, none of whom shared Quakers™ paci¬st principles.
In addition to the challenge of the Proprietary faction, international tensions
began to intrude on Pennsylvania. Shortly after Thomas™s appointment, in
1739 the War of Jenkins™s Ear began. The British sent orders for Pennsylvania
to contribute to raising forces to be sent to the Spanish West Indies. Thomas
responded by enlisting indentured servants belonging to prominent inhabitants,
including members of the Assembly. Also, there was a demand for domestic
forces as French and Spanish privateers began threatening the Pennsylvania
coast, which necessitated some action on the part of the Assembly to call a
militia or otherwise provide means for the defense of the colony.
But the most important development for the future of Quaker politics was
the election of John Kinsey to the Assembly in 1739. Kinsey dominated public
life in mid-century Pennsylvania.129 Indeed, he embodied Quaker theocracy.
In this one man, religion and politics converged and were used as means to
the same ends “ the political autonomy of the Quakers and the dissemination
of their ethic. At one point or another, and often simultaneously, Kinsey held
all the highest posts in both church and state. He was variously speaker of
the Assembly, chief justice of the Pennsylvania Supreme Court, acting trustee
of the General Loan Of¬ce, and provincial treasurer. But more than this, he
was also by all accounts an active Quaker. As the clerk of PYM, he was
the most prominent Quaker in the Delaware Valley. Signi¬cantly, he held the
clerkship concurrently with the speakership of the Assembly, which allowed
him to promote Quaker politics from every angle.130 Kinsey was respected by
even his non-Quaker opponents as “the Hinge on wch ye Quaker Politicks all
Provincial secretary Richard Peters observed that Kinsey “can in¬‚uence [the
Assembly] to do what he pleases.” His power was due to his ability to use
Quaker process to achieve political ends. Although Quakers had never discon-
nected religion and politics, Kinsey mixed them in a way that was different
from before. He turned Quakerism into a powerful political force by using
old modes of dissent and protest in new ways for the advantage of Quakers in
of¬ce. Under Kinsey™s tutelage, Quakers no longer used their testimonies merely
to advocate and secure religious liberties, but also to increase and retain politi-
cal power. The old testimonies were thus transformed as they became political
tools in the hands of skilled dissenters. Peters saw Kinsey™s ends clearly and
knew that “[h]e will never promote an Agreemt with ye Govr. nor a Coalition
of Parties.”132

129 For brief biographies of Kinsey, see Isaac Sharpless, Political Leaders, and LL, 2: 591“607.
130 LL, 2: 593.
131 Richard Peters Letterbook, 1739“43, 58“59, HSP.
132 Ibid.
162 Quaker Constitutionalism in Theory and Practice

The Peace Testimony Reinvented

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