 The Cavalcade of America presented by DuPont, maker of better things for better living through chemistry. The radio play by Garrett Porter, and who founded one of the great states of our nation, Pennsylvania. And Cavalcade presents the distinguished stuff. Henry Hall, our cap gore, are under the direction of DuPont, maker of better things for better living through chemistry, presents Henry Hall as widow of America. An evening late in the year 1667. In a coffee house off Fleet Street in the city of London, officials of the court carry over their cups to listen to the great diarist Samuel Peeps recounting an incident. You mean Mr. Peeps? You pulled Mr. Peeps? No. My wife answering me in some way I did not like. I did pull her nose, Sir William, indeed, to offend her, though afterwards to appease her eyes, denied it. The poor wretch took it mighty ill, and I believe she did feel pain, and so cried a great while. But by and by I made her friends. But here you are, Sir William, home from the wars and morose is anything. What ails thee? Thee. You talk like a Quaker, Peeps. And what ails me? My son's turned Quaker again, and he's in jail again. Or was, until I paid his fine, he's coming here. Oh, do Quakers frequent taverns? Aye, my son does, for he still likes Clavitt. My only hope. My honorable father. And here he is. Welcome, my son. A toast to your health and recovery of your senses. Aye, thank thee, Father. The things I inherited might taste for good, Clavitt, from thee. Thee. Ha. And with your hat on, too. You'd wear your hat I wager before the Duke of York, your patron, even before his majesty. I suppose your father matters least of all. I'm sorry to displease thee, Father. Thee and friend James and friend Charles and all of us are equal before God. Hats. Sir William, not that I hold any brief for the Quakers, but I did catch a severe cold once from not wearing my hat while dining. Hats. Hats. Is that all we can discuss, William? William. You were trained to become an ambassador to all the minister at Caught. You've already been a personal dispatch writer to the king himself, from his brother, the Duke. And you end the Quaker. A belief you can take on and off like your hat. Your jive is justified to an extent, Father. I did find giving up the world a sacrifice. Grandeur, indeed, is alluring. But I must obey a greater command, my conscience, and God's will. Why? Why, my son? Because I think, Father, I was secretly reached by life. When I came into the silent assemblies of God people, I felt a strange power among them. And as I gave way to it, I found the evil in me weakening and the good raised. Ah. And now that you're a Quaker, what will you do with yourself? Speak, and write as I believe, Father, until we have the liberty of conscience we seek. Do that, and you'll end in jail. Ah, you, that might have become a minister at Caught. You'll become at this turbo of the king's peace. You'll not find welcome anywhere you go. Perhaps not here, Father. But in the free air of a new land, God's people will find a blessed escape from turmoil and persecution. I believe it will be found in America, for there is the land of promise. Wherever you find it, it will not be under any roof of mine. Be gone. I disinherit you and have done with you. If... if that is thy wish, Father, goodbye to thee. It is my wish, William. Then good day to thee all. An unhappy spectacle, Admiral. Where will your son in? In the tower of Nougat Jail, when I'm no longer here to pay his fine. You're free to go. And what if I refuse, Jailor? Who says I'm free? The court says so, Will. He may as well give up. Friend Mead. And... and Julie, my love. My dear one. What... what means this? Thy father is relented and paid thy fine again, William. Come, dear, free. I will. And our gracious sovereign, friend Charles, has taken care you shall not be jailed again so easily. Our meeting houses are closed and guarded by royal offices. Well, that is to our advantage. Advantage? I see nothing but disadvantage, Will. What does he mean, William? Why? Our advantage to gain all we seek. The freedom we seek over the seas in America are forgive me, Julie, my love. But America is ever in my thoughts. America? We speak as much of America, William. America is our hope, my friend. There we must go someday and found a new community among ourselves. That is my plan. But Will, a colony like that would be costly and requires favor at court. And of favor we have even less than money. Although we lack favor at court, true enough, we have a friendly monarch who loves his merriment. Friend Charles will yet pay to be rid of us. And so would others. If I'm to judge my eyes, look, Will, soldiers guarding the entrance to our meeting house. Come with me at once. William, what is it that he would do? First, my beloved, address the younger officer of the guard. Good day, friend. Paul, who goes there? A friend. Now, look, you, be on a batch of business. This place is boated and barred by His Majesty's orders. So I see, friend, but I assure you I have no intention of forcing entrance. I have reason to fear royal displeasure. Who is not? Be on your way, I say. How? What are you doing? Well, I just purchased off this ballast faith. Wait, you can't stand up there. It may prove it thick, but I'll try. Friends, gather round. Come close. Listen to me. Hear the word of God. And David asked the Lord, who shall dwell in thy tabernacle? And the Lord answered him, he that walketh uprightly, and speaketh the truth in his heart. Friends, we meet not in our meeting house, for that is forbiddenness. What cannot men who carry the light within themselves worship God in a street as well? Yes. We acknowledge no man our superior, but every man our friend. For we call ourselves... We call ourselves the society of friends. All there, you're under arrest. Why would he be? Why? I have not defied the royal edict. We're meeting in a public place. Take your hands off this man. Friends, are we going to allow Master Penn to be seized unjustly? I arrest both of you in the king's name. Back, back the rest of you. These, these friends do not have order. We'll, we'll go peaceably with you. But why do you arrest us? We've broken no law. I arrest you for breaking the king's pace. Your answer to the royal magistrate. I didn't request to quake his friend, but thank you. We will. What mean you with your hat thrown in my court? For to Mark Spine for contempt of court. Contempt of court? Indeed, it is the court. We should be fine then. While it was for the court's order, we just now put on our hat. Sit down and remove your hat. The court will read the charges. William Penn and William Meade, you are charged with conspiracy to disturb the king's peace. Assemble unlawfully, incite to riot, and condemn to the said lord the king and his law. William Meade, how do you plead? Not guilty. William Penn, how do you plead? Not guilty, for I've broken no law. You're a saucy fellow. We broke no law. Will you teach the court what law is? Common law is common right. Silence! Common right is a privilege of Magna Cotta. Enough of this. Take him away. Stop his mouth. Put him in the bail dock. The recorder may proceed. Gentlemen of the jury, you've heard the indictment. Witnesses will prove that Mr. Penn did so seek to disturb the peace of his majesty the king. And this you will believe after hearing. How does the jury find? We find William Penn guilty of speaking or preaching to an assembly. And William Meade not guilty of speaking. What? The charge is conspiracy to court a riot. If one prisoner is guilty, so is the other. You shall not be dismissed. Haven't the court heard the verdict? The jury shall be locked up without meat, drink, fire or tobacco. I will have an acceptable verdict by the help of God or the jury shall starve for it. Haven't we... Haven't we had the free verdict here? Stop that fellow's mouth. Gentlemen of the jury, you're Englishman. Hold your tongue. Yours must be a free verdict. You have a right, friends. Hold fast to it. Lock up the jury. How does the jury find now? William Penn is guilty of speaking in Grace Road Street to an unlawful assembly. No, my lord. So, you're a factious fellow. I'll take a course with you. But, my lord, we have done according to our consciences. This pen has influenced the jury, but, haki, gentlemen, I will have an acceptable verdict yet. You make of us, jury, and I'll break charter a nose of wax off his mouth. Jailer brings better than steak into the ground. The court, the court will have its verdict. My lord, we find both prisoners not guilty. I am sorry for the jury that they have followed their own judgments rather than the good advice of the court. For this, the court finds each member 40 marks and imprisonment in you get jailed till the fines are paid. And you, William Penn, ought to be imprisoned in the same jail for refusing to take up your hat-pink contempt of court. I leave you in perfect charity. Your religion perfects you? Mine? Forgive. Send a corporal and a file of musketeers along with him. Don't trouble yourself. I know the way to new get jailed. Sweet knell, give us that passage that stirs our secret heart. That from your last play. Bialmaida. Fire, sadness sits upon your royal heart. Have you a grief and must not I have part? All creatures else the time of love possess, men only clog his happiness. And while he should enjoy his part of bliss, with both of what might be, destroys what is. Why, sweet knell, there's not to worry us here. Except for your sanctimonious brother James. Joe! Well, James, what is it now? William Penn's in new get jail. Penn in jail. Again, oh, when will I be rid of these Quakers? When? Perhaps, my lord, when you can sign him to the block. Oh, knell, knell, I love your sweet carelessness, because you never mix in foreign politics nor force a minister of state upon me. Keep to your role, sweet knell. Amen, sir. William Penn's a disturbing fellow, James, he and his Quaker friends. Oh, why can't he be like his father, the admiral? These Quakers are all nuisances, but they say this was a particularly outrageous case, Charles. The inns, of course, are quite aroused, every. Well, James, let the busybodies arouse themselves. Appeal from a gutty lord mayor to the king's benches. No doubt they have. Justice will be done. And what then? William Penn will be free again and in jail again like a very jack in the box. Why not just get rid of our master Penn, Charles? How can I? Even if I got rid of Penn, I'd have his Quakers about my ear till kingdom come. But, sweet knell, mind my words. Well then, brother, I'd say tolerate William Penn. However, I'd like him better at a distance. I'll find a way, I promise you, to rid my realm of William Penn. Almost arrived. I have an order of the Court of King's Bench, which it's my bound and duty to read to you. Proceed, friend jailer. Be it known to all those present greetings, the decree of His Majesty's Court of King's Bench. Whereas the procedure of the lord mayor was arbitrary, capricious, and contrary to the people's ancient and just liberties, guaranteed by Magna Cotter. God is good. It is ordered that the illegally held appellant juryman be released forthwith in accordance with the inalienable rights of subjects of His Majesty, Charles Rex, whom God preserved. I thank thee, jailer. O Lord, thy ways are mysterious. But I thank thee for restoring to liberty those who were imprisoned because of me. Thou art ever with us, O Lord. Amen. Well, if you're done praying, you can go. Come along. Here's some friends are waiting here. William, my beloved. Julie and friend Meade. God is good. They are free. I am free, but more important, my jurymen are free. Juries may no longer be led by the noes. They are free to bring in verdicts according to their understanding and their own consciences. It is a great stronghold for us in England, Will. I am in America as we shall make certain friend Meade and as the king shall soon know now. Why are they so certain of all this, William? I am as certain of it as of anything, Julie. We Quakers will soon have a colony in America and an opportunity to preach and practice freedom. Though he does not yet know it, the king will summon me and grant this to me. How will this come about? We're strangest of all through my late father, Sir William. William, I'm glad they made peace with our father before he died. Hi, Julie. He and I differed much during our lives, yet we were never far apart. Least of all, it is death. As proof of his forgiveness, Julie, my father left me one thing. God bless him. A debt of 16,000 pounds owed him by the king. So I have petitioned him and now await his royal summons. Friend Charles shall yet pay for our holy experiment in America. Ah! Oh, jealousy! It is such a crime that I am forewarned to trust a second time. No then my prayers to Evan shall never cease to crown your arms in war, your wars with peace. Thank you, thank you, sweet mel. Did you know, my friends, that I have turned player and dramatist as well? You have devised a play, Charles. My James with a prologue and an epilogue, though not yet in rhyme. Your Majesty, by your command, Master William Penn awaits audience. Let friend William wait a moment. No then our royal play concerns affairs of state. These being peace within our realms, the maintenance thereof, I should remark that this is my prologue. Now the villain of our peace, the disturber of our peace, is none other than young William Penn. Bravo, my lord. Thank you, sweet mel. There will be sword play, I promise you, in this witty play, for it is a battle of wits and it is Penn himself who unwittingly offers the occasion for a little pleasantry by petitioning us to repay a bagatelle of 16,000 pounds owed by us to his late father. A bagatelle, Charles? What kind of pleasantry is this? Oh, you will soon discover, James, for here's our plot. In the end, we'll grant his prayer for its just claim, but for a while we'll keep him in suspense over it until we've converted a nuisance into a loyal subject, a creditor into our debtor. And now we bid our victim enter. Your Majesty, William Penn, enter, friend William. We welcome the... I thank thee, friend Charles. Friend William, we presume it'd be useless to have thy hat if not off, at least less firmly set upon my head. I intend no disrespect, friend Charles. I know, I know, principal. Still, there's an opposite principal to maintain that someone in my presence removes his hat. So, I insist on bearing my own locks. We have, then, William, considered thy prayer in the matter of 16,000 pounds sterling. We are reluctant to grant it. But, friend Charles, thee would not be so reluctant if thee knew what a great thing I have in mind to do with it. We can very well imagine and the very thought disturbs us. Turn our realm upside down with quicker pamphlets, but not in riotous living, friend Charles. Nay, the consequences you fear are the very ones I would avoid by my plan. What's that? Come. If we thought we could exact guarantees of good behavior from you and turn you and your quickers into law-abiding citizens, we might relent. How do you intend spending this money? I pray my father's account be closed otherwise than with money, friend Charles. Then there's to be no strain on my Percy. What sort of trick is this? No trick, friend Charles. A grant of land. Land? Aye. Ah, well, that's a different matter. Yes, indeed. We have to study it. This is unexpected. The land I have in mind, friend Charles, is remote, and thousands of quickers would go there with me. I can promise thee. What is the name of this place your heart is set upon? I have a name in mind, friend Charles. It is the land in America lying between the colonies of Maryland and New York, lying westward from Jersey, far beyond the distant mountains. Hmm. This goes better for... My brother James has some claim upon this land, in which case he'd pay the debt, not I. Do you object, James? Why, no, Charles. You're welcome to it, Master Pin. But what will you quickers do with this new colony? There we shall have room for a great and holy experiment. A Christian Republic in America, a pattern for the rest of the world. I have a frame of governance in mind for the new world, and governments like clocks go from the motion men give them. They are made by and ruled by men. So by them, ruined also. Wherefore, governments rather defend upon men than men upon governments. Aw, quake her bedlam. You'll end by putting yourselves into and out of jail. Nay, friend Charles, for its first principle will be that every person may worship God according to his own belief. Ah, I fear it is easy to promise the earth to the meek. But, friend William, it is hard for them to inherit it. What shall you call this, this savage utopia? I hadn't thought to call it New Wales. Oh, no, no. The world should never allow the theft of their name by quickers. Well then, since it is a forested land, what does he think of the name Sylvania? Any forest can be named Sylvania. Why not make it Pen Sylvania? Nay, that smacks of vanity, friend Charles, to put my name to it. Aha, you are vain, friend William. I think we meant to honor you. We meant to honor your father, the late Admiral. After all, his money is paying for Pen Sylvania. So, if it's satisfactory, we proclaim the matter ended. So be it. We quit as friend. Yay, friend Charles. For he has granted us a haven in a wilderness where we may yet make a new world where all may serve God as they choose. If our holy experiment at Pen Sylvania succeeds, we have thee to thank. And so, goodbye. I leave thee in perfect charity. Goodbye, friend William. Come, Zire, give us the epilogue you promised. Ah, epilogue. I had one composed, or thought I did. But there goes William Penn. And with him lies the ending of our little play. Not with me. And not here in the gardens of Whitehall, but beyond the seas in that forest wilderness of Pen Sylvania. The Cavalcade of America thanks Henry Hall and the Cavalcade players for their performance of Voice in the Wilderness, our story of William Penn, the founder of Pen Sylvania. And now DuPont brings you news of chemistry at work in our world. Today, as in the days of William Penn, we build cities where there's a supply of good water. And if we need more water, we go after it. New York City right now is going 85 miles for it. Deep underground, 1,500 feet down in some places, 6,000 men are blasting a tunnel through shale, limestone, and granite to the watershed of the Catskill Mountains, 85 miles from the city. They began the tunnel in 1936. When they finish about 1944, the Delaware Aqueduct will bring residents of New York City 540 million gallons of water a day. Driving through these water tunnels, one tool is invaluable. It is a chemical tool, dynamite. Tens of thousands of pounds of DuPont dynamite are digging the Delaware Aqueduct and the new Continental Divide Tunnel in Colorado. Another great American water diversion project. In Colorado, two crews of men, one working from the east, one working from the west, are driving a 13-mile irrigation tube under the Continental Divide. More than 340,000 cubic yards of very hard rock must be moved, and some of it is so hard that the engineers call it the iron dyke. Dynamite handles these jobs. Bringing you water and seeing to it that the water he brings you is pure and safe is another of the chemists' jobs. In the settling basin, flakes of aluminum sulfate form a fine-meshed chemical sieve. This settles slowly down through the water and picks up the particles of mud carrying them to the bottom. As it settles, it also helps to remove many bacteria. After filtering, there may still be bacteria in the water and possibly a taste. In hilly, wooded country, the taste may be that of autumn leaves that have fallen into the brooks. To kill the bacteria, the chemist adds a slight amount of chlorine. Frequently, a little ammonia is added to the water, along with the chlorine. The ammonia assists the chlorine in this purification, and together these chemicals also tend to clear the water of any tastes before it leaves the water works for its final journey to your home. DuPont chemists have helped with the problem of water supply for many years. DuPont Dynamite helps to build the aqueducts of America. DuPont aluminum sulfate clarifies the water, and copper sulfate inhibits the growth of water plants in reservoirs. DuPont chlorine destroys bacteria, and DuPont ammonia helps to solve the problem of taste. Here is one more service that touches the lives of all of us every day, summed up in the words of the DuPont pledge, better things for better living through chemistry. And now the star of next week's program, William Johnstone of the Cavalcade Players. Our play next week is called Black Rust. It is a little-known but exciting story of a man named Mark Carlton, who single-handed wiped out a plague that was devastating the Great Wheatlands of America's Middle West. We hope you'll join us for this broadcast next week. Supporting Henry Hall as William Penn were the Cavalcade Players. King Charles II was George Caloris, Nell Gwynn was Agnes Moorhead, Lord Mayor was Alfred Shirley, and James was Carl Swenson. On the Cavalcade of America, your announcer is Clayton Collier, sending best wishes from DuPont. This is the National Broadcasting Company.