CHAPTER VII.
THE QUAKERS AND THE INDIANS.
WHEN his little audience next assembled round the chair, Grandfather
gave them a doleful history of the Quaker persecution, which began in
1656, and raged for about three years in Massachusetts.
He told them how, in the first place, twelve of the converts of George
Fox, the first Quaker in the world, had come over from England. They
seemed to be impelled by an earnest love for the souls of men, and a
pure desire to make known what they considered a revelation from Heaven.
But the rulers looked upon them as plotting the downfall of all
government and religion. They were banished from the colony. In a little
while, however, not only the first twelve had returned, but a multitude
of other Quakers had come to rebuke the rulers and to preach against the
priests and steeple-houses.
Grandfather described the hatred and scorn with which these enthusiasts
were received. They were thrown into dungeons; they were beaten with
many stripes, women as well as men; they were driven forth into the
wilderness, and left to the tender mercies of tender mercies of wild
beasts and Indians. The children were amazed hear that the more the
Quakers were scourged, and imprisoned, and banished, the more did the
sect increase, both by the influx of strangers and by converts from
among the Puritans, But Grandfather told them that God had put something
into the soul of man, which always turned the cruelties of the
persecutor to naught.
He went on to relate that, in 1659, two Quakers, named William Robinson
and Marmaduke Stephen-son, were hanged at Boston. A woman had been sen-
tenced to die with them, but was reprieved on condition of her leaving
the colony. Her name was Mary Dyer. In the year 1660 she returned to
Boston, although she knew death awaited her there; and, if Grandfather
had been correctly informed, an incident had then taken place which
connects her with our story. This Mary Dyer had entered the mint-
master's dwelling, clothed in sackcloth and ashes, and seated herself in
our great chair with a sort of dignity and state. Then she proceeded to
deliver what she called a message from Heaven, but in the midst of it
they dragged her to prison.
"And was she executed?" asked Laurence.
"She was," said Grandfather.
"Grandfather," cried Charley, clinching his fist, "I would have fought
for that poor Quaker woman!"
"Ah, but if a sword had been drawn for her," said Laurence, "it would
have taken away all the beauty of her death."
It seemed as if hardly any of the preceding stories had thrown such an
interest around Grandfather's chair as did the fact that the poor,
persecuted, wandering Quaker woman had rested in it for a moment. The
children were so much excited that Grandfather found it necessary to
bring his account of the persecution to a close.
"In 1660, the same year in which Mary Dyer was executed," said he,
"Charles II. was restored to the throne of his fathers. This king had
many vices; but he would not permit blood to be shed, under pretence of
religion, in any part of his dominions. The Quakers in England told him
what had been done to their brethren in Massachusetts; and he sent
orders to Governor Endicott to forbear all such proceedings in future.
And so ended the Quaker persecution,--one of the most mournful passages
in the history of our forefathers."
Grandfather then told his auditors, that, shortly after the above
incident, the great chair had been given by the mint-master to the Rev.
Mr. John Eliot. He was the first minister of Roxbury. But besides
attending to the pastoral duties there, he learned the language of the
red men, and often went into the woods to preach to them. So earnestly
did he labor for their conversion that he has always been called the
apostle to the Indians. The mention of this holy man suggested to
Grandfather the propriety of giving a brief sketch of the history of the
Indians, so far as they were connected with the English colonists.
A short period before the arrival of the first Pilgrims at Plymouth
there had been a very grievous plague among the red men; and the sages
and ministers of that day were inclined to the opinion that Providence
had sent this mortality in order to make room for the settlement of the
English. But I know not why we should suppose that an Indian's life is
less precious, in the eye of Heaven, than that of a white man. Be that
as it may, death had certainly been very busy with the savage tribes.
In many places the English found the wigwams deserted and the cornfields
growing to waste, with none to harvest the grain. There were heaps of
earth also, which, being dug open, proved to be Indian graves,
containing bows and flint-headed spears and arrows; for the Indians
buried the dead warrior's weapons along with him. In some spots there
were skulls and other human bones lying unburied. In 1633, and the year
afterwards, the small-pox broke out among the Massachusetts Indians,
multitudes of whom died by this terrible disease of the Old World. These
misfortunes made them far less powerful than they had formerly been.
For nearly half a century after the arrival of the English the red men
showed themselves generally inclined to peace and amity. They often made
submission when they might have made successful war. The Plymouth
settlers, led by the famous Captain Miles Standish, slew some of them,
in 1623, without any very evident necessity for so doing. In 1636, and
the following year, there was the most dreadful war that had yet
occurred between the Indians and the English. The Connecticut settlers,
assisted by a celebrated Indian chief named Uncas, bore the brunt of
this war, with but little aid from Massachusetts. Many hundreds of the
hostile Indians were slain or burned in their wigwams. Sassacus, their
sachem, fled to another tribe, after his own people were defeated; but
he was murdered by them, and his head was sent to his English enemies.
From that period down to the time of King Philip's War, which will be
mentioned hereafter, there was not much trouble with the Indians. But
the colonists were always on their guard, and kept their weapons ready
for the conflict.
"I have sometimes doubted," said Grandfather, when he had told these
things to the Children,- "I have sometimes doubted whether there was
more than a single man among our forefathers who realized that an Indian
possesses a mind, and a heart, and an immortal soul. That single man was
John Eliot. All the rest of the early settlers seemed to think that the
Indians were an inferior race of beings, whom the Creator had merely
allowed to keep possession of this beautiful country till the white men
should be in want of it."
"Did the pious men of those days never try to make Christian of them?"
asked Laurence. "Sometimes, it is true," answered Grandfather, "the
magistrates and ministers would talk about civilizing and converting the
red people. But, at the bottom of their hearts, they would have had
almost as much expectation of civilizing the wild bear of the woods and
making him fit for paradise. They felt no faith in the success of any
such attempts, because they had no love for the poor Indians. Now, Eliot
was full of love for them; and therefore so full of faith and hope that
he spent the labor of a lifetime in their behalf."
"I would have conquered them first, and then converted them," said
Charley.
"Ah, Charley, there spoke the very spirit of our forefathers." replied
Grandfather. "But Mr. Eliot a better spirit. He looked upon them as his
brethren. He persuaded as many of them as he could to leave off their
idle and wandering habits, and to build houses and cultivate the earth,
as the English did. He established schools among them and taught many of
the Indians how to read. He taught them, likewise, how to pray. Hence
they were called 'praying Indians.' Finally, having spent the best years
of his life for their good, Mr. Eliot resolved to spend the remainder in
doing them a yet greater benefit."
"I know what that was!" cried Laurence.
"He sat down in his study," continued Grandfather, "and began a
translation of the Bible into the Indian tongue. It was while he was
engaged in this pious work that the mint-master gave him our great
chair. His toil needed it and deserved it."
"O Grandfather, tell us all about that Indian Bible!" exclaimed
Laurence. "I have seen it in the library of the Athenaeum; and the tears
came into my eyes to think that there were no Indians left to read it."
