BIRTH.—ANCESTRY.—PARENTS.
Amos Lawrence was born in Groton, Mass., on the 22d of April, 1786. His ancestor, John Lawrence, was baptized, according to the records, on the 8th of October, 1609, at Wisset, County of Suffolk, England, where the family had resided for a long period, though originally from the County of Lancaster.
Butler, in his "History of Groton," has, among other details, the following:
"The first account of the ancestor of the numerous families of this name in Groton and Pepperell, which can be relied upon as certain, is, that he was an inhabitant of Watertown as early as 1635. He probably came in the company which came with Governor Winthrop, in 1630. His given name was John, and that of his wife was Elizabeth. Whether they were married in England or not, has not been ascertained. Their eldest child was born in Watertown, January 14, 1635. He removed to Groton, with probably all his family, at an early period of its settlement, as his name is found in the records there in 1663. He was an original proprietor, having a twenty-acre right."
Of the parents of the subject of this memoir, the same author writes:
"Samuel Lawrence, the son of Captain Amos Lawrence, sen., was an officer in the continental army, in the former part of the Revolutionary War. He was in the battle of Bunker Hill, where a musket-ball passed through his beaver hat. He was also in the battle in Rhode Island, where he served as adjutant under General Sullivan. On the 22d day of July, 1777, being at home, on a furlough, for the express purpose, he was married to Susanna Parker. * * * *
"Having faithfully served in the cause of his country during the term of his engagement, he returned to his native town, to enjoy the peace and quiet of domestic life on his farm. He was elected by his townsmen to some of the highest offices in their gift; he was a deacon of the church, and a justice of the peace quorum unus. He took a deep interest in providing means for the education of youth, particularly in establishing and supporting the seminary in Groton, which now, in gratitude to him and his sons, bears the family name. Of this institution he was a trustee thirty-three years, and in its benefits and advantages he gave ample opportunities for all his children to participate. Here their minds undoubtedly received some of those early impressions, the developments and consequences of which it will be the work of their biographers hereafter to portray. No deduction, however, should here be made from the importance of parental instruction, to add to the merit of academical education. The correct lessons given by the mother in the nursery are as necessary to give the right inclination to the tender mind as are those of the tutor in the highest seminary to prepare it for the business of life and intellectual greatness. In the present case, all the duties incumbent on a mother to teach her offspring to be good, and consequently great, were discharged with fidelity and success. Both parents lived to see, in the subject of their care, all that they could reasonably hope or desire. He died November 8, 1827, æt. seventy-three; and his venerable widow, May 2, 1845, æt. eighty-nine."
Mr. Lawrence writes, in 1849, to a friend:
"My father belonged to a company of minute-men in Groton, at the commencement of the Revolution. On the morning of the 19th of April, 1775, when the news reached town that the British troops were on the road from Boston, General Prescott, who was a neighbor, came towards the house on horseback, at rapid speed, and cried out, 'Samuel, notify your men: the British are coming.' My father mounted the general's horse, rode a distance of seven miles, notified the men of his circuit, and was back again at his father's house in forty minutes. In three hours the company was ready to march, and on the next day (the 20th) reached Cambridge. My father was in the battle of Bunker Hill; received a bullet through his cap, which cut his hair from front to rear; received a spent grape-shot upon his arm, without breaking the bone; and lost a large number of men. His veteran Captain Farwell was shot through the body, was taken up for dead, and was so reported by the man who was directed to carry him off. This report brought back the captain's voice, and he exclaimed, with his utmost power, 'It an't true; don't let my poor wife hear of this; I shall live to see my country free.' And so it turned out. This good man, who had served at the capture of Cape Breton in 1745, again in 1755, and now on Bunker Hill in 1775, is connected with everything interesting in my early days. The bullet was extracted, and remains, as a memento, with his descendants. My father and mother were acquainted from their childhood, and engaged to be married some time in 1775. They kept up a correspondence through 1776, when he was at New York; but, on a visit to her, in 1777 (his mother having advised them to be married, as Susan had better be Sam's widow than his forlorn damsel), they were married; but, while the ceremony was going forward, the signal was given to call all soldiers to their posts; and, within the hour, he left his wife, father, mother, and friends, to join his regiment, then at Cambridge. This was on the 22d day of July, 1777. In consideration of the circumstances, his colonel allowed him to return to his wife, and to join the army at Rhode Island in a brief time (two or three days). He did so, and saw nothing more of home until the last day of that year. The army being in winter quarters, he got a furlough for a short period, and reached home in time to assist at the ordination of the Rev. Daniel Chaplin, of whose church both my parents were then members. His return was a season of great joy to all his family. His stay was brief, and nothing more was seen of him until the autumn of 1778, when he retired from the army, in time to be with his wife at the birth of their first child. From that time he was identified with everything connected with the good of the town. As we children came forward, we were carefully looked after, but were taught to use the talents intrusted to us; and every nerve was strained to provide for us the academy which is now doing so much there. We sons are doing less for education for our means than our father for his means."
Of his mother Mr. Lawrence always spoke in the strongest terms of veneration and love, and in many of his letters are found messages of affection, such as could have emanated only from a heart overflowing with filial gratitude. Her form bending over their bed in silent prayer, at the hour of twilight, when she was about leaving them for the night, is still among the earliest recollections of her children.
She was a woman well fitted to train a family for the troubled times in which she lived. To the kindest affections and sympathies she united energy and decision, and in her household enforced that strict and unhesitating obedience, which she considered as the foundation of all success in the education of children. Her hands were never idle, as may be supposed, when it is remembered that in those days, throughout New England, in addition to the cares of a farming establishment, much of the material for clothing was manufactured by the inmates of the family. Many hours each day she passed at the hand-loom, and the hum of the almost obsolete spinning-wheel even now comes across the memory like the remembrance of a pleasant but half-forgotten melody.