True Stories From History and Biography (3 page)

Grandfather went on to talk about Roger Williams, and told the children
several particulars, which we have not room to repeat. One incident,
however, which was connected with his life, must be related, because it
will give the reader an idea of the opinions and feelings of the first
settlers of New England. It was as follows:

While Roger Williams sat in Grandfather's chair, at his humble residence
in Salem, John Endicott would often come to visit him. As the clergy had
great influence in temporal concerns, the minister and magistrate would
talk over the occurrences of the day, and consult how the people might be
governed according to scriptural laws.

One thing especially troubled them both. In the old national banner of
England, under which her soldiers have fought for hundreds of years, there
is a Red Cross, which has been there ever since the days when England was
in subjection to the Pope. The Cross, though a holy symbol, was abhorred
by the Puritans, because they considered it a relic of Popish idolatry.
Now, whenever the train-band of Salem was mustered, the soldiers, with
Endicott at their head, had no other flag to march under than this same
old papistical banner of England, with the Red Cross in the midst of it.
The banner of the Red Cross, likewise, was flying on the walls of the fort
of Salem; and a similar one was displayed in Boston harbor, from the
fortress on Castle Island.

"I profess, brother Williams," Captain Endicott would say, after they had
been talking of this matter, "it distresses a Christian man's heart, to
see this idolatrous Cross flying over our heads. A stranger beholding it,
would think that we had undergone all our hardships and dangers, by sea
and in the wilderness, only to get new dominions for the Pope of Rome."

"Truly, good Mr. Endicott," Roger Williams would answer, "you speak as an
honest man and Protestant Christian should. For mine own part, were it my
business to draw a sword, I should reckon it sinful to fight under such a
banner. Neither can I, in my pulpit, ask the blessing of Heaven upon it."

Such, probably, was the way in which Roger Williams and John Endicott used
to talk about the banner of the Red Cross. Endicott, who was a prompt and
resolute man, soon determined that Massachusetts, if she could not have a
banner of her own, should at least be delivered from that of the Pope of
Rome.

Not long afterwards there was a military muster at Salem. Every
able-bodied man, in the town and neighborhood, was there. All were well
armed, with steel caps upon their heads, plates of iron upon their breasts
and at their backs, and gorgets of steel around their necks. When the sun
shone upon these ranks of iron-clad men, they flashed and blazed with a
splendor that bedazzled the wild Indians, who had come out of the woods to
gaze at them. The soldiers had long pikes, swords, and muskets, which were
fired with matches, and were almost as heavy as a small cannon.

These men had mostly a stern and rigid aspect. To judge by their looks,
you might have supposed that there was as much iron in their hearts, as
there was upon their heads and breasts. They were all devoted Puritans,
and of the same temper as those with whom Oliver Cromwell afterwards
overthrew the throne of England. They hated all the relics of Popish
superstition as much as Endicott himself; and yet, over their heads, was
displayed the banner of the Red Cross.

Endicott was the captain of the company. While the soldiers were expecting
his orders to begin their exercise, they saw him take the banner in one
hand, holding his drawn sword in the other. Probably he addressed them in
a speech, and explained how horrible a thing it was, that men, who had
fled from Popish idolatry into the wilderness, should be compelled to
fight under its symbols here. Perhaps he concluded his address somewhat in
the following style.

"And now, fellow soldiers, you see this old banner of England. Some of
you, I doubt not, may think it treason for a man to lay violent hands upon
it. But whether or no it be treason to man, I have good assurance in my
conscience that it is no treason to God. Wherefore I have resolved that we
will rather be God's soldiers, than soldiers of the Pope of Rome; and in
that mind I now cut the Papal Cross out of this banner."

And so he did. And thus, in a province belonging to the crown of England,
a captain was found bold enough to deface the King's banner with his
sword.

When Winthrop, and the other wise men of Massachusetts, heard of it, they
were disquieted, being afraid that Endicott's act would bring great
trouble upon himself and them. An account of the matter was carried to
King Charles; but he was then so much engrossed by dissensions with his
people, that he had no leisure to punish the offender. In other times, it
might have cost Endicott his life, and Massachusetts her charter.

"I should like to know, Grandfather," said Laurence, when the story was
ended, "whether, when Endicott cut the Red Cross out of the banner, he
meant to imply that Massachusetts was independent of England?"

"A sense of the independence of his adopted country, must have been in
that bold man's heart," answered Grandfather; "but I doubt whether he had
given the matter much consideration, except in its religious bearing.
However, it was a very remarkable affair, and a very strong expression of
Puritan character."

Grandfather proceeded to speak further of Roger Williams, and of other
persons who sat in the great chair, as will be seen in the following
chapter.

"Roger Williams," said Grandfather, "did not keep possession of the chair
a great while. His opinions of civil and religious matters differed, in
many respects, from those of the rulers and clergymen of Massachusetts.
Now the wise men of those days believed, that the country could not be
safe, unless all the inhabitants thought and felt alike."

"Does any body believe so in our days Grandfather?" asked Laurence.

"Possibly there are some who believe it," said Grandfather; "but they have
not so much power to act upon their belief, as the magistrates and
ministers had, in the days of Roger Williams. They had the power to
deprive this good man of his home, and to send him out from the midst of
them, in search of a new place of rest. He was banished in 1634, and went
first to Plymouth colony; but as the people there held the same opinions
as those of Massachusetts, he was not suffered to remain among them.
However, the wilderness was wide enough; so Roger Williams took his staff
and travelled into the forest, and made treaties with the Indians, and
began a plantation which he called Providence."

"I have been to Providence on the railroad," said Charley. "It is but a
two hours' ride."

"Yes, Charley," replied Grandfather; "but when Roger Williams travelled
thither, over hills and valleys, and through the tangled woods, and across
swamps and streams, it was a journey of several days. Well; his little
plantation is now grown to be a populous city; and the inhabitants have a
great veneration for Roger Williams. His name is familiar in the mouths of
all because they see it on their bank bills. How it would have perplexed
this good clergyman, if he had been told that he should give his name to
the ROGER WILLIAMS BANK!"

"When he was driven from Massachusetts," said Laurence, "and began his
journey into the woods, he must have felt as if he were burying himself
forever from the sight and knowledge of men. Yet the whole country has now
heard of him, and will remember him forever."

"Yes," answered Grandfather, "it often happens, that the outcasts of one
generation are those, who are reverenced as the wisest and best of men by
the next. The securest fame is that which comes after a man's death. But
let us return to our story. When Roger Williams was banished, he appears
to have given the chair to Mrs. Anne Hutchinson. At all events it was in
her possession in 1637. She was a very sharp-witted and well-instructed
lady, and was so conscious of her own wisdom and abilities, that she
thought it a pity that the world should not have the benefit of them. She
therefore used to hold lectures in Boston, once or twice a week, at which
most of the women attended. Mrs. Hutchinson presided at these meetings,
sitting, with great state and dignity, in Grandfather's chair."

"Grandfather, was it positively this very chair?" demanded Clara, laying
her hand upon its carved elbow.

"Why not, my dear Clara?" said Grandfather. "Well; Mrs. Hutchinson's
lectures soon caused a great disturbance; for the ministers of Boston did
not think it safe and proper, that a woman should publicly instruct the
people in religious doctrines. Moreover, she made the matter worse, by
declaring that the Rev. Mr. Cotton was the only sincerely pious and holy
clergyman in New England. Now the clergy of those days had quite as much
share in the government of the country, though indirectly, as the
magistrates themselves; so you may imagine what a host of powerful enemies
were raised up against Mrs. Hutchinson. A synod was convened; that is to
say, an assemblage of all the ministers in Massachusetts. They declared
that there were eighty-two erroneous opinions on religious subjects,
diffused among the people, and that Mrs. Hutchinson's opinions were of the
number."

"If they had eighty-two wrong opinions," observed Charley, "I don't see
how they could have any right ones."

"Mrs. Hutchinson had many zealous friends and converts," continued
Grandfather. "She was favored by young Henry Vane, who had come over from
England a year or two before, and had since been chosen governor of the
colony, at the age of twenty-four. But Winthrop, and most of the other
leading men, as well as the ministers, felt an abhorrence of her
doctrines. Thus two opposite parties were formed; and so fierce were the
dissensions, that it was feared the consequence would be civil war and
bloodshed. But Winthrop and the ministers being the most powerful, they
disarmed and imprisoned Mrs. Hutchinson's adherents. She, like Roger
Williams, was banished."

"Dear Grandfather, did they drive the poor woman into the woods?"
exclaimed little Alice, who contrived to feel a human interest even in
these discords of polemic divinity.

"They did, my darling," replied Grandfather; "and the end of her life was
so sad, you must not hear it. At her departure, it appears from the best
authorities, that she gave the great chair to her friend, Henry Vane. He
was a young man of wonderful talents and great learning, who had imbibed
the religious opinions of the Puritans, and left England with the
intention of spending his life in Massachusetts. The people chose him
governor; but the controversy about Mrs. Hutchinson, and other troubles,
caused him to leave the country in 1637. You may read the subsequent
events of his life in the History of England."

"Yes, Grandfather," cried Laurence; "and we may read them better in Mr.
Upham's biography of Vane. And what a beautiful death he died, long
afterwards! beautiful, though it was on a scaffold."

"Many of the most beautiful deaths have been there," said Grandfather.
"The enemies of a great and good man can in no other way make him so
glorious, as by giving him the crown of martyrdom."

In order that the children might fully understand the all-important
history of the chair, Grandfather now thought fit to speak of the progress
that was made in settling several colonies. The settlement of Plymouth, in
1620, has already been mentioned. In 1635, Mr. Hooker and Mr. Stone, two
ministers, went on foot from Massachusetts to Connecticut, through the
pathless woods, taking their whole congregation along with them. They
founded the town of Hartford. In 1638, Mr. Davenport, a very celebrated
minister, went, with other people, and began a plantation at New Haven. In
the same year, some persons who had been persecuted in Massachusetts, went
to the Isle of Rhodes, since called Rhode Island, and settled there. About
this time, also, many settlers had gone to Maine, and were living without
any regular government. There were likewise settlers near Piscataqua
River, in the region which is now called New Hampshire.

Thus, at various points along the coast of New England, there were
communities of Englishmen. Though these communities were independent of
one another, yet they had a common dependence upon England; and, at so
vast a distance from their native home, the inhabitants must all have felt
like brethren. They were fitted to become one united people, at a future
period. Perhaps their feelings of brotherhood were the stronger, because
different nations had formed settlements to the north and to the south. In
Canada and Nova Scotia were colonies of French. On the banks of the Hudson
River was a colony of Dutch, who had taken possession of that region many
years before, and called it New Netherlands.

Grandfather, for aught I know, might have gone on to speak of Maryland and
Virginia; for the good old gentleman really seemed to suppose, that the
whole surface of the United States was not too broad a foundation to place
the four legs of his chair upon. But, happening to glance at Charley, he
perceived that this naughty boy was growing impatient, and meditating
another ride upon a stick. So here, for the present, Grandfather suspended
the history of his chair.

The Children had now learned to look upon the chair with an interest,
which was almost the same as if it were a conscious being, and could
remember the many famous people whom it had held within its arms.

Even Charley, lawless as he was, seemed to feel that this venerable chair
must not be clambered upon nor overturned, although he had no scruple in
taking such liberties with every other chair in the house. Clara treated
it with still greater reverence, often taking occasion to smooth its
cushion, and to brush the dust from the carved flowers and grotesque
figures of its oaken back and arms. Laurence would sometimes sit a whole
hour, especially at twilight, gazing at the chair, and, by the spell of
his imaginations, summoning up its ancient occupants to appear in it
again.