dressing differently and thinking it wrong to fight and treat the
Indians cruelly, the Puritans sent them away. If the Quakers came back
to Boston after being sent away, they were hanged on the Common. A man
who did not think what his neighbors believed was likely to have a hard
time of it. For any one to dress differently from others was considered
a great offense. It was the same all over the world, especially in
England. The first man who tried to wear a silk hat in London was chased
through the streets. The mob battered his hat and tore his clothes, and
he barely escaped with his life.
Therefore, when Roger Williams, a bright young minister from England,
came to preach in the first church of Boston, the people soon found that
he believed in a different form of baptism from theirs, and some were
angry enough to wish to kill him for being a Baptist. So he left Boston
and went to live at Plymouth. The preaching of those days was not so
much about doing good and living by the Golden Rule as about certain
fixed beliefs. This often led to angry arguments, and some good people
became very violent. On this account Roger Williams soon had to leave
Plymouth. Then he went to Salem and built a little church there which is
still standing, about three hundred years old. Here the young minister
kept on preaching what the leaders thought were strange and wicked
teachings. It was decided that such a reckless preacher should be
arrested and sent in chains to England to be tried, and imprisoned or
put to death. But Roger Williams heard of this decision and did not wait
to be arrested. When the captain and his men from Boston came to the
Salem minister’s house, they found that he had left there three days
before.
When the people of Boston, Salem, and Plymouth next heard of Roger
Williams, he was settled on Narragansett Bay. The Indians there received
him gladly, for he had been one of the few white men who treated them
kindly, as William Penn, fifty years afterwards, dealt with the Indians
along the Delaware River.
Williams and his friends built a group of log houses and named their
settlement Providence, because they believed that, in the providence, or
care, of God, they had found a safe retreat among the savages from the
severity of the pious Puritans of Massachusetts. Quakers and other
religious people, who were driven from the Puritan colonies, came and
settled near Roger Williams. Even here the people of different beliefs
quarreled over religious matters, and good Pastor Williams had all he
could do to keep them from fighting and injuring one another.
Soon the savage Pequot Indians tried to persuade all the Indian tribes
to join together and kill at a stroke all the white men who had come
over the Great Water and taken from the natives certain parts of their
country. When the white men of Boston and Plymouth heard of this they
sent and begged Roger Williams to use his good influence with his
neighbors the Narragansetts, a large and powerful tribe, to prevent them
from joining in the plot to murder all the white men--as the Indians
could have done if all the tribes had joined together and attacked all
at once.
Here was a chance for Roger Williams to get even with those who had
wished to kill or imprison him and who had driven him from place to
place. But the minister of Providence returned good for evil. Taking his
life in his hands, he went to the Indian village. The Pequot braves were
there in the wigwam of Canonicus, the Narragansett chief,
[Illustration: THE LANDING OF ROGER WILLIAMS.
_From the painting by Alonzo Chappel_]
trying to persuade him and his tribe to take part in a war against the
“palefaces.” Roger Williams was a hero. He stayed with those Indians,
sleeping with them at night without showing the least sign of fear,
though he very well knew that a savage Pequot might stab him in his
sleep.
The Providence minister was successful. Canonicus refused to join with
the Pequots. Because the Narragansetts stayed out of the war, other
tribes also kept out of it. The Pequots went ahead, but the white men
defeated and destroyed them. By his conduct at this time of need, Roger
Williams set both red men and white a noble example. He taught them all
by his life that a true Christian loves his enemies and does good to
those who treat him badly. The man who founded the town of Providence
and the state of Rhode Island was the friend both of white men and red
because he lived the Golden Rule.
LORD BALTIMORE, CALVERT AND CLAIBORNE, THE THREE FATHERS OF MARYLAND
George Calvert, of Kipling, England, was such a fine man that he was
beloved by king and people alike. King James gave him the title of “Sir”
George Calvert, and made him Secretary of State. As the king and the
church in England were Protestant, Sir George felt it his duty to give
up his royal honors when he became a Catholic. But King James’ son,
Charles the First, instead of taking Calvert’s rank away from him, made
him “Baron” Baltimore. A baron is higher in position than a knight, who
is called “Sir.”
A few years after the Pilgrims came to America and settled at Plymouth
in order to worship God as they thought right, Lord Baltimore asked
permission to make a settlement for himself and the Catholics of England
who were persecuted because of their religion. The first place chosen by
him for a Catholic settlement was in Newfoundland. But though the
climate was lovely and cool there in spring and summer, the settlers
found it so cold in winter that they had to go back to England. King
Charles then granted Lord Baltimore another great tract of land much
farther south, between the English settlement at Jamestown and that of
the Puritans at Plymouth in New England. Lord Baltimore named this
region “Mary Land,” in honor of King Charles’ wife, the queen of
England.
[Illustration: GEORGE CALVERT, LORD BALTIMORE]
As all the other English settlements in America were Protestant, the
party had great trouble in securing supplies and getting started for the
New World. Before they were quite ready, the first Lord Baltimore died,
and his eldest son, Cecil Calvert, who then became Lord Baltimore,
inherited Maryland as part of his father’s estate. But some of the land
granted to Lord Baltimore had been settled years before and was claimed
by the colonists of Virginia. On account of this, young Lord Baltimore
had to stay in London to look out for his rights in America. Therefore
his younger brother, Leonard Calvert, was sent to act for him as
governor of Maryland.
At last the voyagers sailed away in two ships, the _Ark_ and the _Dove_.
There were one hundred and twenty-eight passengers, not counting
servants and children. There were others on board who, not having money,
bound themselves by law to work for a certain time in America to pay
their passage across the sea.
The two ships were caught in a terrific storm on the way and the _Dove_
was not to be seen anywhere. After many days of hoping against hope,
those on the _Ark_ gave up for lost the _Dove_ and all their friends on
it. Then the _Ark_ sailed on alone, stopping, after many weeks, at one
of the islands of the West Indies. While they were anchored there their
sorrow was turned to joy, for the _Dove_ caught up with them. It had
been driven out of sight by the fierceness of the gale and had found
refuge in a harbor near by.
The two sister ships now sailed northward and entered the mouth of the
Potomac. Of this river Father White, one of the company, wrote:
“Never have I beheld a larger or more beautiful river. The Thames
seems a mere rivulet in comparison with it; it is not disfigured by
any swamps, but has firm land on each side. Fine groves of trees
appear, not choked with bushes and undergrowth, but growing at
intervals as if planted by hand, so that you might easily drive a
four-horse carriage through the midst of the trees.”
Governor Leonard Calvert had heard so many stories of the fierceness and
cunning of the Indians that he did not land at once. After the two ships
had cruised about the rivers and the bay awhile, he decided to settle at
the mouth of a small river, which they named St. Mary’s, and built a
group of cabins, calling this place St. Mary’s also.
They were quite surprised to find their Indian neighbors friendly,
bringing corn and provisions, and showing them all they could about
planting and trapping and hunting. The settlers soon learned that the
Indians were friendly because they wanted the white men to help them
when they went to war with their savage enemies. The red men thought the
strangers’ “firesticks” (guns) worked magic, like lightning and thunder
from above. The children of young Maryland saw much to entertain and
sometimes to frighten them. When the Indians painted themselves with
red, black, and yellow stripes, they looked even uglier than before. The
white people had heard of the savages’ war dances and scalp dances, but
they now found the natives had also their corn dances, something like a
harvest or Thanksgiving festival.
The Maryland colonists were kind to the tribes and gained their
friendship, as Champlain had done and as William Penn and the Quakers of
Philadelphia were to do about fifty years later. The Indians in and
around Maryland learned to believe in the goodness of the people of the
Baltimore colony.
Most of the trouble Governor Calvert had in settling Maryland was with a
white leader named Claiborne, who had settled on the largest island in
the bay. He claimed that this land, which was named Kent Island, was
part of Virginia.
Governor Calvert visited Jamestown, and the governor of that colony said
that the island was part of Lord Baltimore’s land. Then Claiborne
announced that Kent Island was not only separate from either colony, but
that it belonged to him. He had made friends among the Indians, far and
near, and began to boast that he was going to drive all the other white
people out of that country.
The Marylanders went to work like so many beavers, building a fort and
other defenses to be ready for an attack. When they heard that the
people on Kent Island had fitted out a large sailboat as a man-of-war,
Governor Calvert fitted up two pinnaces, or small boats, and mounted a
cannon in each. Then the men of Maryland sailed for Kent Island and
captured it, after a battle in which several persons were killed. After
this there was no more trouble with Claiborne, and since that time Kent
Island has belonged to Maryland. Lord Baltimore held the rights over
Maryland by a grant from the king, somewhat as William Penn afterward
came to own Pennsylvania. Although Cecil, Baron Baltimore, was never
able to visit his property in the New World, his name was given to
Baltimore, the greatest city of Maryland, and Anne Arundel County was
named for his wife.
The purpose of the colony was not all religious. Trading and business
were also the objects of those brave settlers, and some of the most
successful merchant princes have sprung from that old Maryland
stock--“the best out of Old England.” The women of Maryland have been
far-famed for their beauty. There is good reason for naming the
loveliest of climbing roses, “Baltimore Belles.”
The best thing grown in old Maryland was its patriotism. When the
Fathers were signing the Declaration of Independence, the chief man
from Maryland was Charles Carroll. As there was another Charles Carroll,
the hero in Independence Hall signed his name “Charles Carroll of
Carrollton.” The patriotic spirit of the colony still lives in that
song, popular in all the states: “Maryland, my Maryland!”
WILLIAM PENN, THE FOUNDER OF PENNSYLVANIA
When William Penn was born, his father, Admiral Sir William Penn, was
sailing out to sea on an English battleship. Little William’s mother was
a lovely woman from Holland, and as good as she was beautiful. While in
college at Oxford, young Penn attended Quaker meetings, which had been
started by followers of George Fox, the founder of a religious sect, the
Society of Friends, or Quakers, as they were commonly called.
[Illustration: WILLIAM PENN.
_In State Capitol of Pennsylvania_]
The professors in charge of Oxford University did not believe in such
meetings, so they turned out of the college those who attended them.
When William Penn went home, sent away from Oxford, his father was so
angry that he gave his Quaker son a beating and drove him from home.
Young Penn would have had to starve or beg in the streets but for his
good mother, who sent and helped him secretly. Even after that William
was found at a Quaker meeting in London and put in prison for eight
months.
William Penn’s father was a great man, a friend of King Charles the
First. When that king was put to death, Admiral Penn became the friend
of Cromwell, who had fought against the king. After Cromwell died, the
Admiral attached himself to King Charles the Second, and to the king’s
brother, the Duke of York, who afterward became James the Second.
Although these four rulers were different--even bitter enemies to one
another--shrewd Admiral Penn managed to keep the favor of them all. He
was ambitious also to have his eldest son become the favorite of kings.
He allowed William to come home after he was free from prison, in order
to send him away to Paris, as he hoped the youth would forget his queer
belief in the gay life there. The father asked the son’s friends, who
were sons of English noblemen, to influence William while in Paris to do
everything that was against the Quaker belief. One day a stranger met
young Penn in the street and picked a quarrel with him, drawing his
sword and challenging the peace-loving young man to a duel with swords.
Penn was forced, much against his will, to fight. He had always been an
active youth and fond of sports. While at college he had been very good
at fencing. By skilful play he disarmed the quarrelsome fellow and ended
the duel without hurting the stranger, as if it were all done in sport.
This pleased all who saw the sword-play and it did credit to the heart
as well as to the skill of the young Quaker.
When William returned home he was so handsome and had gained so much in
courtly manners that his father was thoroughly pleased. But the Great
Plague broke out in London then, carrying off nearly seventy thousand
people in that city alone. This frightened even the most worldly into
leading religious lives, and made William Penn’s conscience trouble him.
Repenting of his gay life, he finally joined the Friends for good and
all, and became one of their most earnest members and preachers. His
father ordered him out of the house and threatened to cast him off
utterly.
William was now imprisoned in the London Tower because of something he
had written against the Church of England. While in prison he wrote “No
Cross, No Crown,” and other works in defense of the Quakers. His father,
whose heart was touched by his son’s courage and unselfishness, appealed
to the Duke of York, King Charles’ brother, and got William out of the
Tower.
Admiral Penn died soon after this, leaving William a rich man. The royal
treasury owed him immense sums of money loaned to King Charles and his
brother James. But young Penn was again arrested because he was a
Friend, and imprisoned in Newgate, where the worst criminals were kept.
When he was again set free he began to seek some good place outside of
England where he and his Quaker followers could serve God and their
fellow-men without being treated like criminals. Learning of a certain
region in America, he went to King Charles and asked for it in payment
of the large amount of money Charles owed him.
As the king was still unable to pay the great debt in money, he was glad
to grant Penn a charter for the vast tract of land. When Penn came
before the king and the council to have the state paper signed and
sealed, he did not remove his hat, as Quakers think it wrong to show
such reverence to any one but God. King Charles allowed Penn to keep
his hat on, but removed his own, to the astonishment of all, and said
with a smile, “It is the custom at court for only one person to remain
covered.”
Penn suggested calling the tract of country they were ceding to him,
Sylvania, which meant “forest land”; but the king insisted on naming it
Pennsylvania, or Penn-forest. This name was written in the charter, so
William Penn had to abide by it, though he thought it vain to have the
land named for himself. The religious leader was now happy in having a
country where he and his people could live and love God and one another
in their own simple way. Sailing across the ocean in his good ship,
_Welcome_, Penn bought the country from its rightful owners, the
Indians. He made a solemn treaty with them which was “never sworn to,
and never broken.”
No Quaker ever hurt or wronged an Indian, and no Indian ever injured a
Friend, though the red savages murdered settlers belonging to other
religious faiths. William Penn laid out a town which soon became the
largest city in America. For this place he made up a name, Philadelphia,
composed of two Greek words meaning “Brother” and “love.”
Grand as it was to own such a great country as Pennsylvania, and to
found a large and flourishing city like Philadelphia, it was even
grander to teach people to live by the Golden Rule, and to help along
religious liberty. It was most fitting that the Declaration of
Independence should be adopted and signed in the State House of
Pennsylvania, in Philadelphia, the city of William Penn.
[Illustration: WILLIAM PENN’S TREATY WITH THE INDIANS.]
PATRIOTS OF THE REVOLUTION
PATRICK HENRY, THE “FIREBRAND OF THE REVOLUTION”
“Pat Henry’s a good-for-nothing fellow. Just lounges about his
father-in-law’s tavern telling stories and fiddling.”
This was the verdict of the people of Hanover Court House, Virginia,
when Patrick Henry was a young man. When he was but a youth he had
married the tavern-keeper’s daughter. He had tried farming and failed,
people said, because he was “too lazy to do anything but go a-fishing.”
But he was a great reader and had studied law in a random, listless way.
The door of opportunity opened one day before this young man of whom the
neighbors had so little good to say. There was a case in court called
“the Parsons’ Cause.” This famous lawsuit arose in the following way: An
old law required each church in Virginia to pay its minister sixteen
thousand pounds of tobacco as his yearly salary. Later the legislature
of Virginia passed another law which permitted each parish to pay its
minister a smaller salary in money. The King of England set this law
aside and then the “parsons,” as the clergy were called, brought a
lawsuit to collect the unpaid parts of their salaries. Young Patrick
Henry’s sympathies were with the men who were sued and he offered his
services in their defense.
When the people of Hanover Court House heard of this, they laughed as if
it were a huge joke.
[Illustration: PATRICK HENRY DELIVERING HIS CELEBRATED SPEECH, MAY,
1765.]
“The good-for-nothing! What can _he_ do, with his low, tavern talk?”
they asked in scorn. “His stories may do for a bar-room, but for such a
fellow to speak in such an important case will be an insult to the
court.”
The courtroom was well filled on the day of the trial. The opposing
lawyers had promised to make short work of Patrick Henry, and teach him
a lesson he would not soon forget. There was a strange stillness when
the young man rose to speak. At first he seemed unable to control his
voice, and some of those present nudged each other and whispered: “He’s
going to break down! I told you so. He ought to have known better than
attempt a big case like this.”
Then young Henry’s will seemed to come to his rescue. He straightened
up. His face flushed eagerly. His eyes blazed with indignation. His
words soon came in a torrent of eloquence. He declared that the people
of Virginia had the right to make their own laws and that if the King
interfered he was no longer the father of his people, but a tyrant whom
they need not obey. The jury, carried away by the young lawyer’s fiery
appeal, decided that the parsons should have only one penny more money.
The people who had come to sneer now began to cheer. They carried the
young lawyer out of the courthouse on their shoulders.
That success showed that the “ne’er-do-well” was really a great lawyer.
After that Patrick Henry spent his time in his law office instead of
going fishing or loafing about the hotel. He studied to improve his
mind, and practiced in correcting his errors of speech, while learning
to make good use of his new-found gift of speaking in public.
Honors were showered, thick and fast, on the fiery lawyer. Other cases
were brought to him and he won them right and left. Soon he was sent to
the House of Burgesses, or the legislature of Virginia.
When other leaders hesitated to take the steps necessary to obtain their
rights, Patrick Henry did not falter. He seemed to see farther than
other men into the future. He made the halls of the lawmakers ring for
liberty, beginning his great liberty speeches ten years before the
colonies were prepared to meet and declare their independence.
When Virginians were sent to the first Congress of the United Colonies
in Philadelphia, Patrick Henry was one of those chosen to go with George
Washington and Richard Henry Lee. Here, in a fiery speech, Patrick Henry
exclaimed: “I am not a Virginian--I am an American!” He had to leave
Congress before signing the Declaration of Independence; but soon after
he became the first governor of Virginia, which was now no longer a
British colony but a new state. He was four times elected governor of
the state.
Patrick Henry was “the firebrand of the Revolution”; that is, his
burning words spread like a prairie fire from south to north, and
inspired the people with a burning zeal for liberty which could not be
quenched till all thirteen colonies had gained their independence and
had become the United States of America.
It has been said that Patrick Henry “rocked the world with his voice.”
The best known of his speeches was made just a few weeks before the
battle of Lexington, which was the first skirmish of the Revolution.
Here are the closing words of that great speech:
“Gentlemen may cry, ‘Peace! Peace!’--but there is no peace. The war
is actually begun. The next gale that sweeps from the north will
bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms! Our brethren are
already in the field. Why stand we here idle? What is it the
gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is life so dear, or peace so
sweet as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid
it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take; but, as
for me, _give me Liberty or give me Death!_”
NATHAN HALE, WHO SPOKE THE BRAVEST WORDS IN HISTORY
Nathan Hale was a country boy, the sixth of ten children. When he was
twelve his mother died. It had been her wish that Nathan should study to
be a minister. So the lad entered Yale College when he was only
fourteen. Young as he was, Nathan became president of the debating
society. He was a big, strong, handsome fellow, full of fun and fond of
sports. He was best at what was known as the broad jump. For many years
“the Hale jump” made the record for the college. He was a strong swimmer
and excelled in shooting at the mark. In going about the college
grounds, Hale was often seen placing one hand on top of a six-foot fence
and vaulting over it with ease. One of his chums has told how Nathan
would stand in one hogshead, with his hands on his hips, and jump up out
of that into the second hogshead; then, in the same manner, leap into
the third hogshead and from there out on the ground--“all without
touching.” His athletic feats were so wonderful that the boys used to
boast of the things “Young Hale” did for “Old Yale.”
When he was seventeen, the young athlete also showed himself such a
ready and eloquent speaker that he was chosen for the highest honors of
the debating society. One address of his is still kept in the records of
Yale University. One of the questions he proposed and took part in
debating was: “Is it right to enslave the Africans?”
Right after his graduation, at the age of eighteen, young Hale began to
teach school and do tutoring besides, to pay his way while studying to
be a minister. But early in 1775, when he had been teaching less than
two years, the news of the first battles in the War for Independence
fired the fervent soul of the young patriot, and he joined the army.
Nathan Hale was appointed lieutenant in a company sent by Connecticut,
his native state, to become part of General Washington’s army which was
trying to take the city of Boston, then in the hands of the British. The
army then was without uniforms, proper arms, or training. During the
summer Lieutenant Hale “turned” twenty-one and was promoted to the rank
of captain.