pearl-seekers and even greedier gold-hunters and slave-traders. They
exploited the mines and pearl-fisheries, and, capturing thousands of
helpless Indians, sold them to Spanish masters, to do all kinds of hard
labour.
Thus Spanish America became a vast treasure-house for the Spanish Crown.
Pack-trains of Indian and negro slaves and mules under guard, carrying
bullion, gems, fragrant spices, and costly woods, toiled along the steep
and narrow trails of the Andes, or threaded the dangerous
mountain-passes. These miserable slaves, groaning under their heavy
burdens, cringed beneath the lashes of their drivers’ whips. They
shivered in the piercing cold of the high mountains, and panted from
tropic heat, as the pack-trains wound their way across the Isthmus of
Panama to the Atlantic side.
There the great Galleons took aboard the gold, silver, emeralds, pearls,
spices, and woods, as well as cargoes of slaves, then sailed away with
them across the Spanish Main.
But gold breeds robbers. And along the coast and on the Caribbean Sea,
swarmed pirate ships waiting to swoop down upon the Galleons.
Oftentimes, buccaneers grappled with the Treasure-Ships, putting the
Spaniards to the knife, and carrying off the booty to their
pirate-islands. So not every Galleon came safely to its Spanish port.
II
And in order that this stupendous wealth of the West Indies and of
_Tierra Firme_, as South America was then called, should belong to no
country but herself, Spain sent out Governors to rule with iron hand her
Spanish-American Colonies. For the Spanish Crown had Colonies in South
America, just as England had in North America. In South America were
many important cities and towns.
These Governors were, for the most part, gold-grasping officials. They
oppressed the Creoles, as the native-born Americans of pure Spanish
blood were called. And besides the Creoles, there were in Spanish
America, Indians, negro-slaves, and people of mixed blood, all subjects
of the Crown.
Laws were enforced taxing the People heavily, closing their ports to
foreign trade, and forbidding them to manufacture commodities which
Spain herself wished to make and sell to the Colonists at exorbitant
prices.
Not even the rich Creoles were allowed to travel abroad without
permission from the Crown. When in Spain they were treated with
contempt. Their education was limited, higher education is not for
Americans, decreed the Spanish King. And they might not read books
forbidden by Spain. And at that time, the Roman Catholic Church was
exercising its power in Spanish America, in much the same fashion as the
Established Church of England was misusing its function at the time of
the Pilgrim Fathers, Roger Williams, and William Penn.
If any of the Colonists raised their voices in protest, their property
was confiscated, and they were arrested. The slightest rebellion was
mercilessly punished. Many of the captured rebels were either flung into
filthy dungeons to die or were executed.
Large numbers of Indians, negroes and people of mixed blood, perished
miserably in the mines and on the plantations, or while deep-sea diving
for pearls,--all this to fill the Spanish Galleons with treasure.
III
Then came the _Liberators_, facing death or cruel imprisonment. But they
were strengthened by the justice of their cause, and by the fact that
the United States of America had succeeded in separating from her Mother
Country, and had established a Republic in which the citizens, rich and
poor alike, had a voice in their own government.
It is the story of some of these _Liberators_ that is told here, the
Washingtons and Lincolns of their native lands, who freed their
countrymen from the curse of the Spanish Treasure-Ships, and who
established the Latin American Republics.
THE ROMANCE OF MIRANDA
This is the romance of Francisco de Miranda of Venezuela, the Flaming
Son of Liberty, the Knight-Errant of Freedom, who made Spain tremble.
Romance was in his blood, for Alvaro, his great Spanish ancestor, had
won the family coat-of-arms, by rescuing five Christian maidens from
pagan Moors. And Miranda’s father, an adventurous, bold Spaniard, had
crossed the Atlantic in those dangerous days of pirates to seek his
fortune in Venezuela.
So the boy, who was to make Spain tremble, was born in Venezuela, and
grew up in the City of Caracas. He liked to read and study. He was given
a classical education. But the call of romance and adventure was too
loud for him to remain quietly at home. When he was sixteen, he sailed
for Spain to try his own fortune.
His father was wealthy, and the boy bought a captain’s commission in the
Regiment of the Princess. He studied military science and fought
valiantly against Spain’s enemies. He collected books. In fact, he spent
a great deal of money bringing books from many countries; only to have
some of his precious volumes burned by the Spanish Inquisition, because
they taught of _Equality, Fraternity, and Liberty_.
Then came our American War for Independence. While Washington and the
Continental Army were fighting for our Liberty, Miranda’s romantic
career as a Knight-Errant of Liberty, began.
For Spain and France were both at war with England. They sent troops to
the West Indies to form an expedition to take away from England,
Pensacola, in Florida. Miranda, a high-spirited, executive young officer
was chosen to accompany the Spanish troops. So for two years he took
part in our struggle for Independence.
But he made enemies among the Spanish officials stationed in the West
Indies. They accused him of disloyalty to Spain. He was tried, and
banished for ten years. Probably he had aroused their suspicion because,
while fighting for our Freedom, he had begun to plan for the
Independence of Venezuela.
Thus Miranda became an exile from all of Spain’s dominions. Filled with
his great idea of Freedom for his Country, he went wandering about
Europe armed with papers, maps, and information about Spanish America.
He went from Court to Court, from Country to Country--he even visited
the United States--trying to persuade some Government to take up the
cause of Independence for Spanish America, and to lend him money, men,
and arms.
But he found time in the midst of all this roving to become a soldier of
France, and to fight for her Freedom during the French Revolution. He
had many thrilling adventures, and was imprisoned and escaped. Then he
once more took up his wanderings and petitionings.
He was a handsome man. His courtly manners, charm, and eloquence, his
burning words of Patriotism, everywhere aroused sympathy. He told of the
sufferings of his countrymen, and of the great commercial opportunities
which Spanish America offered to whatever friendly Nation would help to
gain her Freedom.
Everywhere he was received with attention. The Empress Catherine the
Great of Russia became his friend. William Pitt gave him many assurances
that England would aid him if possible; while our own Alexander Hamilton
wrote him, that he hoped the United States might soon come forward
openly to the support of Spanish-American Independence.
Time and again, it seemed as though Miranda were succeeding. But on each
occasion international politics interfered, and the Governments withdrew
their encouragement.
Spain feared Miranda. She pronounced him a fugitive from justice. Her
spies followed him. They searched his papers; and would have seized him
and carried him back to Spain, had they not been afraid of his powerful
friends in Russia and England.
In Miranda’s London home, many Spanish-American Patriots met together,
and joined a secret society founded by him. They planned to free Spanish
America; and they swore to give their lives and their all to the aid of
their Country.
Many years passed by. Miranda was over fifty. Yet he had not struck a
single blow for Venezuela. He determined to wait no longer for foreign
aid. He believed that the time was ripe to declare the Independence of
Spanish America. He believed that the people there were waiting eagerly
for him to raise Liberty’s standard against Spain.
He had no funds, so he pledged his precious library, which, during so
many years, he had collected with such pains, industry, and affection.
Then, with the money thus raised, he sailed for the City of New York.
THE MYSTERY SHIP
Hail! the Red, Yellow, and Blue!
The Tri-Colour that flew
On the winds of the Spanish Main,
Striking the heart of Spain,
Breaking the Tyrant-chain,
With its message of Freedom true!
The Red, the Yellow, the Blue!
It was early in the year 1806. Near a wharf in Staten Island rode the
good ship _Leander_ tugging at her anchor.
A crowd of young men, some of them from New York and Long Island, came
hurrying onto the wharf. Many were college men, others were working
boys. Some were dressed in fashionable clothes; while others, who
shouldered their way huskily through the crowd, wore plain homespun and
carried kits of tools or bundles of clothes. Among these young men was
William Steuben Smith, the grandson of John Adams, ex-President of the
United States. With his father’s permission he had left college to sail
on the _Leander_; but he had not consulted his grandfather.
He and the other young men had signed ship’s papers to sail in the
_Leander_, yet few of them knew where they were going. It was to be a
mysterious voyage. A number of the men had been told that they would get
much gold, and at the same time help to free an unknown suffering
people from slavery. Others had been persuaded to join the expedition by
being assured that they were going south to guard the Washington mail.
Few, if any, had seen their new employer and commander, George Martin.
The ship’s boats filled rapidly and rowed out to the _Leander_. All the
men were set on board. Then she weighed anchor, and, with sails spread,
was soon briskly cutting her way through the waves of the outer bay. And
when Sandy Hook was passed, she stood out to sea.
Then, there appeared on deck a most romantic figure, in a red robe and
slippers. The word went round:--
“It’s our Commander, George Martin.”
And George Martin, though the young men did not know it, was Francisco
de Miranda.
The red robe flapped in the wind around his well-built form. His gray
hair, powdered and combed back from his high forehead, was tied behind
with a ribbon. While from either ear stood out large, wiry, gray
side-whiskers. As he strolled across the deck, examining the young men
with his piercing, eager, hazel eyes, he smiled pleasantly, showing
handsome white teeth.
They crowded around him, hoping to hear where they were going. Some even
asked the question. But he, ignoring it, shook hands with each one, and
conversed in a delightful manner, now asking the college men about
their studies, and now speaking to the others about their work. Still
the mystery remained--whither was the ship going?
Day after day went by, and the mystery deepened. The _Leander_ took her
course southward. George Martin, mingling with the men, chatted affably.
He related his adventures, he told of his sufferings, escapes, and many
perils, and of his friendships at Court and of all the romance of his
life. Then he waxed warmer, and spoke of his great idea--of _Equality,
Fraternity, and Liberty_ for all men. Thus he aimed to sow seeds of
heroic deeds and Freedom, in the minds of the young men.
Meanwhile, he began to drill the men on deck, assigning officers to
duties. He fixed the regimental uniforms; the infantry dress in blue and
yellow, the artillery in blue and red; the engineers in blue and black
velvet; the riflemen in green; the dragoons in yellow and blue.
From sunrise to sunset there was hustle and bustle on deck. A printing
press was set up. At an armourer’s bench a man was repairing old
muskets, sharpening bayonets, and cleaning rusty swords. Tailors,
sitting cross-legged on the deck, were cutting out and stitching
uniforms. A body of raw recruits were drilling under a drill-master who
looked as bold as a lion and roared nearly as loud.
There was buzz everywhere, and excitement too, for no one yet knew to
what land the ship was going. And George Martin, looking mightily
pleased, stood watching everybody and everything, and saying, “We shall
soon be ready for the Main.”
Then a day arrived when several hundred proclamations were run off the
printing press. They were addressed to the People of South America,
painting strongly their hardships and woes, and promising them
deliverance from Spain. They were signed, “Don Francisco de Miranda,
Commander-in-Chief of the Colombian Army.”
Thereupon George Martin--who was Miranda--announced that he expected
soon to land on the coast of Venezuela and strike the first blow against
Spain.
Some of the young Americans, who were eager to fight anywhere or
anybody, and who longed for the glint of Spanish Gold, cheered loudly.
But their mates kept quiet, with heavy hearts, for they had begun to
wonder whether after all they were not a band of mere filibusters
instead of a noble army, since they were sailing under no protecting
flag.
Then, too, rumours were going the round, that if any of the men were
captured by the enemy, they would be given short shrift and hanged as
pirates.
A few days later General Miranda hoisted for the first time the new
Colombian flag of Freedom--a tri-colour, the Red, Yellow, and Blue. And
as it floated wide on the southern wind, a gun was fired and toasts
drunk to the banner that was long to wave--and is waving to-day--over
the Republic of Venezuela.
It was the first Flag of Spanish-American Independence.
After the flag-raising the _Leander_ sped merrily on her way, carrying
the raw army of about two hundred men to fight the whole of Spain. While
many of them in the gloomy bottoms of their hearts, were heartily
wishing that they were safe at home again in the good old City of New
York.
_Retold from accounts by_
_James Biggs, and Moses Smith of Long Island, two Americans who
sailed with Miranda, 1806_
THE END OF THE MYSTERY SHIP
And what became of the young Americans who had been persuaded to ship in
the _Leander_?
Two English schooners, the _Bacchus_ and the _Bee_, had joined the
_Leander_ at one of the West Indies. As the latter was overcrowded, some
of the Americans were transferred to the schooners.
Then, while this small fleet of three small vessels was approaching
Venezuela, two Spanish revenue-cutters swooped down upon them. The
_Leander_ engaged the enemy bravely, firing her guns; but the _Bacchus_
and _Bee_ tried to escape and became separated from the _Leander_. The
revenue-cutters turned, and, pursuing the little ships, captured them
and all on board.
Our young Americans fought bravely, but they were badly wounded with
knives and swords. They were captured, and plundered by the Spaniards.
They were stripped, and tied back to back. In this humiliating condition
they were carried to the Fortress of Puerto Cabello, and thrown into a
dungeon; where they were chained together, two and two, and loaded with
irons.
The dungeon was a living sepulchre, a mere cavity in the moss-grown
mouldy fortress-wall, and below ground at that. The rain soaked through
the foundations and the poor fellows lay wallowing in filth and mire.
They were tried by a Spanish Court and condemned. Fourteen of them were
hanged as pirates.
As for the rest, those who were flung back alive into their dungeon, how
gladly now would they have fought to liberate the Spanish-American
People! They no longer blamed Miranda, but wished to aid him with all
their might.
Like a spluttering candle whose flame suddenly goes out, so ended the
ill-fated career of the Mystery Ship.
Miranda landed on the coast of Venezuela. He and his men fought well.
But the people did not rise up to join his standard as he had expected.
Instead they fled from him. They were afraid. Spain was too strong in
Venezuela, and the Patriot cause too weak.
So Miranda was driven from the country. His expedition failed. He was,
finally, forced to disband what was left of his little “Colombian Army,”
after which he took refuge again in England.
As for the poor captive American lads, those who had not been hanged as
pirates, our United States Government could do little to assist them,
for we were not at war with Spain, and the young men had been taken as
pirates on the high seas. Some of them continued to languish in Spanish
dungeons, others were put to hard labour in the mines, and few of them
were ever heard of again.
THE GREAT AND GLORIOUS FIFTH
Meanwhile, a great change was taking place. In Europe, Napoleon had
forced the King of Spain to abdicate. In Venezuela the people felt no
longer bound in loyalty to the Spanish Crown. Miranda’s teachings had
made an impression. The seeds of Patriotism which he had sown were
taking root.
The Patriot Party in Venezuela grew strong. Young Simon Bolivar, a fiery
Patriot, was sent on a mission to England. While there, he sought out
Miranda. He invited him to return to Venezuela and help the Patriot
cause.
So Miranda returned.
On the Fifth of July, 1811, a Congress representing the Venezuelan
People, assembled and voted in the name “of the all-powerful God” a
Declaration of Independence of the United Provinces of Venezuela, which
by right and act became a free, sovereign, and independent State.
Miranda was one of the signers.
It was a great and glorious _Fifth_--like our _Fourth_--when Liberty
enlightened that land. For it was the first Declaration of Independence
in all Spanish America. And the brave delegates, who put their names to
it, did so at the greatest risk of their lives; for Spain was still
strong in Venezuela.
On that same day, the Venezuelan Congress adopted a flag for the
Republic--the tri-colour, the Red, Yellow, and Blue, which Miranda had
flown from the _Leander_.
Miranda was made Commander-in-Chief of the Patriot Army of Venezuela,
and led it against the Spanish forces.
A TERRIBLE THING
But the struggle against Spain was only just begun. Her armies were
large. Her General, Monteverde, was treacherous, crafty, and cruel. Much
of Venezuela yet groaned beneath the heel of Spain.
Miranda and his soldiers fought valiantly, now defeated, now victorious.
It began to seem as though the Patriot cause might triumph in the end.
Then a terrible thing happened.
An earthquake--frightful, tremendous--shook the land. The earth heaved
like the sea in all directions. Churches, houses, and barracks swayed,
and fell with a roar. Men, women, and children were crushed and killed.
The Patriot arms and supplies were buried under mountains of débris.
In the City of Caracas, the ruins were awful. The frantic people ran
screaming into the great square. The hearts of the bravest were frozen
with terror.
But the earthquake had scarcely passed away, before Friars, who were
loyal to Spain, were mounted on a table in the midst of the frightened
multitude.
“The earthquake is the judgment of God,” they cried, “and his curse on
all who are trying to cast off their virtuous King, the Lord’s
Anointed!”
The people listened in horror. A religious panic spread from Caracas
throughout Venezuela. People forgot that earthquakes had often happened
before in many parts of the world, casting cities into ruins. They
believed that God Almighty had condemned their struggle for
Independence.
Many soldiers of the Patriot Army refused to fight any more against
Spain. They deserted in numbers to Monteverde. In vain Miranda tried to
rally his troops, he could no longer persuade them to believe in the
justice of their cause. Superstitious terror had made cowards of them
all.
Monteverde continued to advance rapidly. Miranda saw not only his ranks
thinning daily, but the country that supplied food and cattle for his
army, falling into the hands of the enemy.
Then came a final crushing blow:--
The strong Fortress of Puerto Cabello fell into the hands of Monteverde.
END OF THE ROMANCE
“Venezuela is wounded in the heart!” exclaimed Miranda in a deep voice
as he read the despatch telling of the loss of Puerto Cabello.
It was Simon Bolivar, the fiery, impetuous, young Patriot, who had lost
this important fortress and city to Monteverde. He was in despair,
Bolivar said, because his own body had not been left under the ruins of
that city.
But the fortress was irretrievably lost, and the tide of Fortune was
turned against Independence. The cause of Venezuela seemed hopeless.
Miranda was worn and weary. So he capitulated.
He capitulated to Monteverde, with the agreement that none of the
Patriots should be made to suffer for their rebellion; and that any of
them who so wished, might leave the country.
After signing the capitulation, Miranda prepared to leave on an English
vessel and seek refuge in the West Indies. He sent his servants with his
money and precious papers aboard. He then decided to sleep that night on
land, and embark the next morning.
But he never embarked. Bolivar, with some of Miranda’s officers,
indignant it is said because Miranda had capitulated, seized him while
he was asleep, and threw him into a dungeon.
After which they surrendered him to Monteverde, who had him transferred
in chains to Puerto Cabello, the same Fortress in which our young
Americans from the Mystery Ship had suffered so terribly.
Meanwhile, Simon Bolivar obtained a passport from Monteverde and fled to
the West Indies.
As for Miranda, he continued to languish in Spanish-American prisons
for some time. Then he was carried to Spain and cast into a dungeon.
Though Miranda’s existence was miserable, he received comfort from his
books, for he delighted to read. In his cell after his death, were found
Horace, Virgil, Cicero, Don Quixote,--and even a copy of the New
Testament.
Early on the morning of July 14, 1816, he “gave his soul to God, his
name to history, and his body to the earth.” Whether he died by poison,
execution, or natural death, no one knows.
Thus perished the Flaming Son of Liberty, the Knight-Errant of Freedom,
the Chief of the Apostles of Spanish-American Independence.
So his romance was ended. But his work was only begun; it lived on for
others to finish.
_For how his work lived on, read Simon Bolivar the Liberator, page
371._
JUNE 23-24
ROGER WILLIAMS AND THE FOUNDING OF PROVIDENCE
_He has been rightly called “The First American,” because he was
the first to actualize in a commonwealth, the distinctively
American principle of Freedom for mind and body and soul._
ARTHUR B. STRICKLAND
GOD MAKES A PATH
_God makes a path, provides a guide,
And feeds in Wilderness;
His glorious Name, while breath remains,
Oh, that I may confess!_
_Lost many a time, I have had no guide,
No house, but hollow tree!
In stormy winter night, no fire,
No food, no company:_
_In Him, I found a house, a bed,
A table, company:
No cup so bitter, but ’s made sweet,
When God shall sweet’ning be._
ROGER WILLIAMS
The date of ROGER WILLIAMS’S birth is unknown, probably about 1604
or 1607
He founded Providence, about June 23-24, 1636
He died, 1684
He has been called “The Apostle of Soul Liberty.”
ROGER, THE BOY
The exact date of Roger Williams’s birth is unknown. Nor are his
historians agreed on the place where he was born. It is generally
thought that he was born in London, where his father was a tailor. He is
also said to have been distantly related to Oliver Cromwell.
When Roger Williams was a boy, a new system of writing had been devised,
called shorthand. He learned it, and, going to the Star Chamber, took
down some of the sermons and speeches. The Judge, Sir Edward Coke, was
so pleased with his work, that he became Roger Williams’s friend and
patron, and even gained him admission to one of the famous English
schools. Later, young Roger Williams attended Cambridge University.
After leaving Cambridge, he is said to have studied law under his friend
Sir Edward Coke. Then, not being satisfied with law, he studied to
become a minister.
Like William Penn, Roger Williams was a thoughtful boy, and like William
Penn, he had a sweet experience in childhood. For Roger Williams himself
when old, said, “From my childhood, now about three score years, the
Father of lights and mercies touched my soul with a love for Himself, to
his Only Begotten, the true Lord Jesus, and to his holy Scriptures.”
SOUL LIBERTY