Old Times in the Colonies & The Story of Liberty. Charles Carleton Coffin

Ferdinand, Christopher Columbus, Charles V., Philip II., and Loyola; in Italy, Alexander VI and Leo X. These have taken great parts in the drama: actively or passively, they have been the central figures.

      One other thing: you will notice that the one question greater than all others has been in regard to the right of men to think for themselves, especially in matters pertaining to religion. Popes, archbishops, cardinals, bishops, and priests have disputed the right, to secure which hundreds of thousands of men and women have yielded their lives. You will also take special notice that nothing is said against religion — nothing against the Pope because he is Pope; nothing against a Catholic because he is a Catholic; nor against a Protestant because he protests against the authority of the Church of Rome. Facts of history only are given.' Catholics and Protestants alike have persecuted, robbed, plundered, maltreated, imprisoned, and burned men and women for not believing as they believed. Through ignorance, superstition, intolerance, and bigotry; through thinking that they alone were right, and that those who differed with them were wrong; forgetting that might never makes right; honestly thinking that they were doing God service in rooting out heretics, they filled the world with woe.

      There is still another point to be noticed: that the successes of those who have struggled to keep men in slavery have often proved to be in reality failures; while the defeats of those who were fighting for freedom have often been victories. Emperors, kings, cardinals, priests, and popes have had their own way, and yet their plans have failed in the end. They plucked golden fruit, which changed to apples of Sodom. Mary Tudor resolutely set herself to root out all heretics, and yet there were more heretics in England on the day of her death than when she ascended the throne. Charles V. and Philip II. grasped at universal dominion; but their strength became weakness, their achievements failures. On the other hand, see what has come from disaster! How bitter to John Robinson, William Brewster, and the poor people of Scrooby and Austerfield, to be driven from home, to be exiles! But out of that bitterness has come the Republic of the Western world! Who won — King James, or John Robinson and William Brewster?

      There is still one other point: you will notice that while the oppressors have carried out their plans, and had things their own way, there were other forces silently at work, which in time undermined their plans, as if a Divine hand were directing the counter-plan. Whoever peruses the "Story of Liberty" without recognizing this feature will fail of fully comprehending the meaning of history. There must be a meaning to history, or else existence is an incomprehensible enigma.

      Some men assert that the marvellous events of history are only a series of coincidences; but was it by chance that the great uprising in Germany once lay enfolded, as it were, in the beckoning hand of Ursula Cotta? How happened it that behind the passion of Henry VIII. for Anne Boleyn should be the separation of England from the Church of Rome, and all the mighty results to civilization and Christianity that came from that event? How came it to pass that, when the world was ready for it, and not before, George Buchanan should teach the doctrine that the people were the only legitimate source of power? Men act freely in laying and executing their plans; but behind the turmoil and conflict of human wills there is an unseen power that shapes destiny — nations rise and fall, generations come and go; yet through the ages there has been an advancement of Justice, Truth, Right, and Liberty. To what end? Is it not the march of the human race toward an Eden of rest and peace?

      If while reading this "Story" you are roused to indignation, or pained at the recital of wrong and outrage, remember that out of endurance and sacrifice has come all that you hold most dear; so will you comprehend what Liberty has cost, and what it is worth.

      Charles Carleton Coffin.

      

WINDSOR CASTLE, FROM THE MEADOW AT RUNNYMEDE.

      CHAPTER I

       JOHN LACKLAND AND THE BARONS

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      AT the time when this story begins there is very little liberty in the world. It is the 15th of June, and the grass is fresh and green in the Runnymede meadow, where the Army of God has set up its encampment. No other army like it was ever seen. All the great men of England are in its ranks — the barons and lords, the owners of castles who ride on noble horses, wear coats of mail, and are armed with swords and lances.

      Pavilions and tents dot the meadow; flags and banners wave in the summer air; General Fitzwalter is commander. There is no hostile army near at hand, nor will there be any clashing of arms on this 15th of June, and yet before the sun goes down the Army of God will win a great vitory over the King of England, Jolin Lackland, who is in Windsor Castle, which overlooks the meadow from the south side of the river Thames, which comes down from the north-west and sweeps on to London.

      The king is called John Lackland because his father did not deed him any land. His brother was Richard Cœur de Lion — the lion-hearted — who was brave, but also wicked and cruel. He commanded the Crusaders, and fought the Saraceus under Saladin, in Palestine. One day he told his cook to have some fresh pork for dinner, but the cook had no pork, nor did he know where to find a pig. He was in trouble, for if there was no pork on the table he won1d stand a chance of having his head chopped o£F. He had heard it said, however, that human fresh tasted like pork. Knowing that no pork was to be had, he killed a Saracen prisoner and cooked some of the flesh and placed it on the table.

      The king praised the dinner. Perhaps, however, he mistrusted that it was not pork, for, said Richard," Bring in the head of the pig, that I may see it."

      The poor cook knew not what to do. Now he certainly would ha^e his head cut off. With much trembling he brought in the head of the Saracen. The king laughed when he saw it.

      

BATTLE OF ACRE.

      "We shall not want for pork as long as we have sixty thousand prisoners," he paid, not in the least disturbed to know that he had been eating human flesh. The Saracen general — Saladin — sent thirty ambassadors to Richard beseeching him not to put the prisoners to death, Richard gave them an entertainment, and instead of ornamenting the banquet with flowers, he had thirty Saracens killed, and their heads placed on the table. Instead of acceding to the request of Saladin, he had the sixty thousand men, women, and children slaughtered out on the plain east of the city of Acre.

      

RICHARD SLAUGHTERING THE SARACENS.

      "Tell your master that after such a fashion the Christians wage war against intidels," said Richard to the ambassadors. Kings did as they pleased, but for everybody else there was no liberty.

      

CRUSADERS.

      When Richard died, John seized all hie money, jewels, and the throne, pretending that Richard had made a will in his favor. John's older brother, Geoffrey, who was heir to the throne, was dead; but Geoffrey had a son, Arthur, whose right to the throne was as good as John's. Arthur was a boy, while John was thirty-two years old. The uncle seized Arthur, and put him into a dungeon in the Tower in London, and ordered the keeper, Hubert de Burgh, to put Arthur's eyes out with a red-hot iron. Shakspeare has pictured the scene when Hubert entered one morning and showed Arthur his uncle's order:

      "Arth, Must you with hot irons bum out both mine eyes? Hub. Young boy, I must. Arth. And will you? Hub. And I will. Arth. Have you the heart? When your head did but ache, I knit my handkerchief about your brows, (The best I had, a princess wrought it me). And I did never ask it you again: And with my hand at midnight held your head; And, like the watchful minutes to the hour, Still and anon cheer'd up the heavy time: Saying, What lack yon? and Where lies your grief? Or, What good love may I perform for you? Many a poor man's son would have lain still And ne'er have spoke a loving word to you; But you at your sick service had a prince. Nay, you may think my love was crafty love. And call it cunning; Do, an if you will: If