EARLY AMERICAN SPIRIT OF FREEDOM

GRANDFATHER’S CHAIR

NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE

How New England Was Governed

The children had now learned to look upon the chair with an interest which was almost the same as if it were 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 or 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 imagination summoning up its [ancient occupants] to appear in it again.

Little Alice evidently employed herself in a similar way, for once, when Grandfather had gone abroad, the child was heard talking with the gentle Lady Arbella as if she were still sitting in the chair. So sweet a child as little Alice may fitly talk with angels such as Lady Arbella had long since become.

Grandfather was soon importuned for more stories about the chair. He had no difficulty in relating them, for it really seemed as if every person noted in our early history had on some occasion or other found repose within its comfortable arms. If Grandfather took pride in anything, it was in being the possessor of such an honorable and historic elbow-chair.

“I know not precisely who next got possession of the chair after Governor Vane went back to England,” said Grandfather, “but there is reason to believe that President Dunster sat in it when he held the first commencement at Harvard College. You have often heard, children, how careful our forefathers were to give their young people a good education. They had scarcely cut down trees enough to make room for their own dwellings before they began to think of establishing a college. Their principal object was to rear up pious and learned ministers, and hence old writers call Harvard College a school of the prophets.”

“Is the college a school of the prophets now?” asked Charley.

“It is a long while since I [took my degree], Charley. You must ask some of the recent graduates,” answered Grandfather. “As I was telling you, President Dunster sat in Grandfather’s chair in 1642 when he conferred the degree of bachelor of arts on nine young men. They were the first in America who had received that honor. And now, my dear auditors, I must confess that there are contradictory statements and some uncertainty about the adventures of the chair for a period of almost ten years. Some say that it was occupied by your own ancestor, William Hawthorne, first Speaker of the House of Representatives. I have nearly satisfied myself, however, that during most of this questionable period it was literally the chair of state. It gives me much pleasure to imagine that several successive governors of Massachusetts sat in it at the [council board].”

“But, Grandfather,” interposed Charley, who was a matter-of-fact little person, “what reason have you to imagine so?”

“Pray do imagine it, Grandfather,” said Laurence.

“With Charley’s permission I will,” replied Grandfather, smiling. “Let us consider it settled, therefore, that Winthrop, Bellingham, Dudley, and Endicott, each of them, when chosen governor, took his seat in our great chair on Election day. In this chair, likewise, did those excellent governors preside while holding consultation with the chief councilors of the province, who were styled assistants. The governor sat in this chair, too, whenever messages were brought to him from the chamber of Representatives.”

And here Grandfather took occasion to talk rather tediously about the nature and forms of government that established themselves almost spontaneously in Massachusetts and the other New England colonies. Democracies were the natural growth of the new world. As to Massachusetts, it was at first intended that the colony should be governed by a council in London. But in a little while the people had the whole power in their own hands, and chose annually the governor, the councilors, and the representatives. The people of Old England had never enjoyed anything like the liberties and privileges which the settlers of New England now possessed. And they did not adopt these modes of government after long study, but in simplicity, as if there were no other way for people to be ruled.

“But, Laurence,” continued Grandfather, “when you want instruction on these points you must seek it in Mr. Bancroft’s History. I am merely telling the history of a chair. To proceed. The period during which the governors sat in our chair was not very full of [striking incidents]. The province was now established on a secure foundation, but it did not increase so rapidly as at first, because the Puritans were no longer driven from England by persecution. However, there was still a quiet and natural growth. The legislature incorporated towns and made new purchases of lands from the Indians. A very memorable event took place in 1643. The colonies of Massachusetts, Plymouth Connecticut, and New Haven formed a union for the purpose of assisting each other in difficulties, for mutual defense against their enemies. They called themselves the United Colonies of New England.”

“Were they under a government like that of the United States?” inquired Laurence.

“No,” replied Grandfather; “the different colonies did not compose one nation together; it was merely a confederacy among the governments. It somewhat resembled the [league of the Amphictyons], which you remember in Grecian history. But to return to our chair. In 1644 it was highly honored, for Governor Endicott sat in it when he [gave audience] to an ambassador from the French governor of Acadia, or Nova Scotia. A treaty of peace between Massachusetts and the French colony was then signed.”

“Did England allow Massachusetts to make war and peace with foreign countries?” asked Laurence.

“Massachusetts and the whole of New England were then almost independent of the mother country,” said Grandfather. “There was now a civil war in England, and the King, as you may well suppose, had his hands full at home, and could pay but little attention to these remote colonies. When the Parliament got the power into their hands they likewise had enough to do in keeping down the Cavaliers. Thus New England, like a young and hardy lad whose father and mother neglect it, was left to take care of itself. In 1646, King Charles was beheaded. Oliver Cromwell then became Protector of England, and, as he was a Puritan himself and had risen by the valor of the English Puritans, he showed himself a loving and [indulgent father] to the Puritan colonies in America.”

Grandfather might have continued to talk in this dull manner nobody knows how long, but, suspecting that Charley would find the subject rather dry, he looked sidewise at that vivacious little fellow and saw him give an involuntary yawn. Whereupon Grandfather proceeded with the history of the chair, and related a very entertaining incident which will be found in the next chapter.

NOTES AND QUESTIONS

Biography. Nathaniel Hawthorne (1804-1864) was a master of the short story as a means for interpreting character. His ancestors were men of action—soldiers, seamen, and public officials. But he was unlike them; all his life he was a dreamer who loved solitude better than society. The subject of his dreaming was human character, particularly the character of the Puritan founders of New England. He told many legends of colonial times, some of them portraying the stern methods of Governor Endicott, or telling a humorous story of the Pine-Tree Shillings, or recounting the weird story of the old gray champion who defied Governor Andros. But besides these legends he wrote stories, visions of life in which one can scarcely draw the line between reality and illusion; stories of lovers who sought vainly for happiness; stories of a great stone face on the mountain side, and what it signified. Somewhat longer than these tales—Twice Told Tales he called them—are his romances, such as The Scarlet Letter, and The House of the Seven Gables. Besides his longer romances he popularized New England history in the form of stories for children. From one such book, Grandfather’s Chair, these stories have been taken.

Discussion. 1. What can you tell of the character of each of the children, Charley, Clara, Laurence, and Alice, from their treatment of the chair? 2. What interesting facts did you learn about Harvard College and President Dunster? 3. Mention some of the famous governors that sat in Grandfather’s chair. 4. What does Grandfather mean by saying that “democracies were the natural growth of the new world”? 5. Tell about the union known as the United Colonies of New England. 6. What famous governor sat in the chair in 1644? 7. What was the occasion? 8. Why was Oliver Cromwell friendly to the colonies? 9. State three interesting facts which you have learned regarding the government of New England. 10. Pronounce the following: grotesque; importuned; tediously; spontaneously; memorable; vivacious.

Phrases

The Pine-tree Shillings

“According to the most [authentic records], my dear children,” said Grandfather, “the chair about this time had the misfortune to break its leg. It was probably on account of this accident that it ceased to be the seat of the governors of Massachusetts, for, assuredly, it would have been [ominous of evil] to the commonwealth if the chair of state had tottered upon three legs. Being therefore sold at auction—alas! what a vicissitude for a chair that had figured in such high company!—our venerable friend was [knocked down] to a certain Captain John Hull. This old gentleman, on carefully examining the maimed chair, discovered that its broken leg might be clamped with iron and made as serviceable as ever.”

“Here is the very leg that was broken!” exclaimed Charley, throwing himself down on the floor to look at it. “And here are the iron clamps. How well it was mended!”

When they had all sufficiently examined the broken leg Grandfather told them a story about Captain John Hull and the Pine-tree Shillings.

The Captain John Hull aforesaid was the mint-master of Massachusetts, and coined all the money that was made there. This was a new line of business, for in the earlier days of the colony the [current coinage] consisted of gold and silver money of England, Portugal, and Spain. These coins being scarce, the people were often forced to [barter their commodities] instead of selling them.

For instance, if a man wanted to buy a coat, he perhaps exchanged a bear-skin for it. If he wished for a barrel of molasses, he might purchase it with a pile of pine boards. Musket-bullets were used instead of farthings. The Indians had a sort of money called wampum, which was made of clam-shells, and this [strange sort of specie] was likewise taken in payment of debts by the English settlers. Bank-bills had never been heard of. There was not money enough of any kind, in many parts of the country, to pay the salaries of the ministers, so that they sometimes had to take quintals of fish, bushels of corn, or cords of wood instead of silver or gold.

As the people grew more numerous and their trade one with another increased, the want of current money was still more sensibly felt. To supply the demand the general court passed a law for establishing a coinage of shillings, sixpences, and threepences. Captain John Hull was appointed to manufacture this money, and was to have about one shilling out of every twenty to pay him for the trouble of making them.

Hereupon all the old silver in the colony was handed over to Captain John Hull. The battered silver cans and tankards, I suppose, and silver buckles, and broken spoons, and silver buttons of worn-out coats, and silver hilts of swords that had figured at court—all such curious old articles were doubtless thrown into the melting-pot together. But by far the greater part of the silver consisted of bullion from the mines of South America, which the [English buccaneers]—who were little better than pirates—had taken from the Spaniards and brought to Massachusetts.

All this old and new silver being melted down and coined, the result was an immense amount of splendid shillings, sixpences, and threepences. Each had the date 1652 on the one side and the figure of a pine tree on the other. Hence they were called pine-tree shillings. And for every twenty shillings that he coined, you will remember, Captain John Hull was entitled to put one shilling into his own pocket.

The magistrates soon began to suspect that the mint-master would have the best of the bargain. They offered him a large sum of money if he would but give up that twentieth shilling which he was continually dropping into his own pocket. But Captain Hull declared himself perfectly satisfied with the shilling. And well he might be, for so diligently did he labor that in a few years his pockets, his money-bags, and his strong box were over-flowing with pine-tree shillings. This was probably the case when he came into possession of Grandfather’s chair; and, as he had worked so hard at the mint, it was certainly proper that he should have a comfortable chair to rest himself in.

When the mint-master had grown very rich, a young man, Samuel Sewell by name, came a-courting to his only daughter. His daughter—whose name I do not know, but we will call her Betsey—was a fine, hearty damsel, by no means so slender as some young ladies of our own days. On the contrary, having always fed heartily on pumpkin pies, doughnuts, Indian puddings, and other Puritan dainties, she was as round and plump as a pudding herself. With this round, rosy Miss Betsey did Samuel Sewell fall in love. As he was a young man of good character, industrious in his business, and a member of the church, the mint-master very readily gave his consent.

“Yes, you may take her,” said he, in his rough way, “and you’ll find her a heavy burden enough.”

On the wedding-day we may suppose that honest John Hull dressed himself in a plum-colored coat, all the buttons of which were made of pine-tree shillings. The buttons of his waistcoat were sixpences, and the knees of his small clothes were buttoned with silver threepences. Thus attired, he sat with great dignity in Grandfather’s chair, and, being a portly old gentleman, he completely filled it from elbow to elbow. On the opposite side of the room, between her bridesmaids, sat Miss Betsey. She was blushing with all her might, and looked like a full-blown peony or a great red apple.

There, too, was the bridegroom, dressed in a fine purple coat and gold-lace waistcoat, with as much other finery as the Puritan laws and customs would allow him to put on. His hair was cropped close to his head, because Governor Endicott had forbidden any man to wear it below the ears. But he was a very [personable young man], and so thought the bridesmaids and Miss Betsey herself.

The mint-master also was pleased with his new son-in-law, especially as he had courted Miss Betsey out of pure love, and had said nothing at all about her portion. So, when the marriage ceremony was over, Captain Hull whispered a word to two of his men-servants, who immediately went out, and soon returned lugging in a large pair of scales. They were such a pair as wholesale merchants use for weighing [bulky commodities], and quite a bulky commodity was now to be weighed in them.

“Daughter Betsey,” said the mint-master, “get into one side of these scales.”

Miss Betsey—or Mrs. Sewell, as we must now call her—did as she was bid, like a dutiful child, without any question of the why and wherefore. But what her father could mean, unless to make her husband pay for her by the pound (in which case she would have been a dear bargain), she had not the least idea.

“And now,” said honest John Hull to the servants, “bring that box hither.”

The box to which the mint-master pointed was a huge, square, iron-bound oaken chest; it was big enough, my children, for all four of you to play at hide-and-seek in. The servants tugged with might and main, but could not lift this [enormous receptacle], and were finally obliged to drag it across the floor. Captain Hull, then took a key from his girdle, unlocked the chest, and lifted its ponderous lid. Behold! it was full to the brim of bright pine-tree shillings fresh from the mint, and Samuel Sewell began to think that his father-in-law had got possession of all the money in the Massachusetts treasury. But it was only the mint-master’s honest share of the coinage.

Then the servants, at Captain Hull’s command, heaped double handfuls of shillings into one side of the scales while Betsey remained in the other. Jingle, jingle, went the shillings as handful after handful was thrown in, till, plump and ponderous as she was, they fairly weighed the young lady from the floor.

“There, son Sewell!” cried the honest mint-master, resuming his seat in Grandfather’s chair, “take these shillings for my daughter’s portion. Use her kindly and thank Heaven for her. It is not every wife that’s worth her weight in silver.”

The children laughed heartily at this legend, and would hardly be convinced but that Grandfather had made it out of his own head. He assured them faithfully, however, that he had found it in the pages of a grave historian, and had merely tried to tell it in a somewhat funnier style. As for Samuel Sewell, he afterward became chief justice of Massachusetts.

“Well, Grandfather,” remarked Clara, “if wedding portions nowadays were paid as Miss Betsey’s was, young ladies would not pride themselves upon an airy figure, as many of them do.”

NOTES AND QUESTIONS

Discussion. 1. Describe bartering in the early colonial days. 2. When was the coinage of money established by law? 3. Who was the first mint master? 4. Upon what conditions did he manufacture the coins? 5. What do you think of Captain Hull’s bargain? 6. Where did the silver come from? 7. Describe the pine-tree shillings. 8. Tell the story of the romance between Betsey Hull and Samuel Sewell. 9. To what great position did Samuel Sewell attain? 10. Find out all you can about our government mints today. 11. Where are some of them located? 12. Where does the gold, silver, nickel, and copper come from? 13. Pronounce the following: authentic; ominous; specie.

Phrases

The Stamp Act

“Charley, my boy,” said Grandfather, “do you remember who was the last occupant of the chair?”

“It was Lieutenant-governor Hutchinson,” answered Charley. “Sir Francis Bernard, the new governor, had given him the chair instead of putting it away in the garret of the Province-house. And when we took leave of Hutchinson he was sitting by his fireside and thinking of the past adventures of the chair and of what was to come.”

“Very well,” said Grandfather, “and you recollect that this was in 1763 or thereabouts, at the close of the Old French War. Now, that you may fully comprehend the remaining adventures of the chair, I must make some brief remarks on the situation and character of the New England colonies at this period.”

So Grandfather spoke of the earnest loyalty of our fathers during the Old French War and after the conquest of Canada had brought that war to a triumphant close.

The people loved and reverenced the King of England even more than if the ocean had not rolled its waves between him and them, for at the distance of three thousand miles they could not discover his bad qualities and imperfections. Their love was increased by the dangers which they had encountered in order to heighten his glory and extend his dominion. Throughout the war the American colonists had fought side by side with the soldiers of Old England, and nearly thirty thousand young men had laid down their lives for the honor of King George. And the survivors loved him the better because they had done and suffered so much for his sake.

But there were some circumstances that caused America to feel more independent of England than at an earlier period. Canada and Acadia had now become British provinces, and our fathers were no longer afraid of the bands of French and Indians who used to assault them in old times. For a century and a half this had been the great terror of New England. Now the old French soldier was driven from the north forever. And even had it been otherwise, the English colonies were growing so populous and powerful that they might have felt fully able to protect themselves without any help from England.

There were thoughtful and [sagacious men] who began to doubt whether a great country like America would always be content to remain under the government of an island three thousand miles away. This was the more doubtful because the English Parliament had long ago made laws which were intended to be very beneficial to England at the expense of America. By these laws the colonists were forbidden to manufacture articles for their own use or to carry on trade with any nation but the English.

“Now,” continued Grandfather, “if King George III and his counselors had considered these things wisely, they would have taken another course than they did. But when they saw how rich and populous the colonies had grown, their first thought was how they might make more profit out of them than heretofore. England was enormously in debt at the close of the Old French War, and it was pretended that this debt had been contracted for the defense of the American colonies, and that therefore a part of it ought to be paid by them.”

“Why, this was nonsense!” exclaimed Charley. “Did not our fathers spend their lives, and their money too, to get Canada for King George?”

“True, they did,” said Grandfather, “and they told the English rulers so. But the King and his ministers would not listen to good advice. In 1765 the British Parliament passed a stamp act.”

“What was that?” inquired Charley.

“The stamp act,” replied Grandfather, “was a law by which all deeds, bonds, and other papers of the same kind were ordered to be marked with the king’s stamp, and without this mark they were declared [illegal and void]. Now, in order to get a blank sheet of paper with the king’s stamp upon it, people were obliged to pay threepence more than the actual value of the paper. And this extra sum of threepence was a tax and was to be paid into the king’s treasury.”

“I am sure threepence was not worth quarreling about!” remarked Clara.

“It was not for threepence, nor for any amount of money, that America quarreled with England,” replied Grandfather; “it was for a great principle. The colonists were determined not to be taxed except by their own representatives. They said that neither the King and Parliament nor any other power on earth had a right to take their money out of their pockets unless they freely gave it. And, rather than pay threepence when it was unjustly demanded, they resolved to sacrifice all the wealth of the country, and their lives along with it. They therefore made a most [stubborn resistance] to the stamp act.”

“That was noble!” exclaimed Laurence. “I understand how it was. If they had quietly paid the tax of threepence, they would have ceased to be freemen and would have become tributaries of England. And so they contended about a great question of right and wrong, and put everything at stake for it.”

“You are right, Laurence,” said Grandfather, “and it was really amazing and terrible to see what a change came over [the aspect of the people] the moment the English Parliament had passed this [oppressive act]. The former history of our chair, my children, has given you some idea of what a harsh, unyielding, stern set of men the old Puritans were. For a good many years back, however, it had seemed as if these characteristics were disappearing. But no sooner did England offer wrong to the colonies than the descendants of the early settlers proved that they had the same kind of temper as their forefathers. The moment before, New England appeared like a humble and loyal [subject of the Crown]; the next instant she showed the grim, dark features of an old king-resisting Puritan.”

Grandfather spoke briefly of the [public measures] that were taken in opposition to the stamp act. As this law affected all the American colonies alike, it naturally led them to think of consulting together in order to procure its repeal. For this purpose the legislature of Massachusetts proposed that delegates from every colony should meet in congress. Accordingly, nine colonies, both Northern and Southern, sent delegates to the city of New York.

“And did they consult about going to war with England?” asked Charley.

“No, Charley,” answered Grandfather; “a great deal of talking was yet to be done before England and America could come to blows. The Congress stated the rights and grievances of the colonists. They sent a [humble petition to the King] and a memorial to the Parliament beseeching that the stamp act might be repealed. This was all that the delegates had it in their power to do.”

“They might as well have stayed at home, then,” said Charley.

“By no means,” replied Grandfather. “It was a most important and [memorable event], this first coming together of the American people by their representatives from the North and South. If England had been wise, she would have trembled at the first word that was spoken in such an assembly.”

These [remonstrances and petitions], as Grandfather observed, were the work of grave, thoughtful, and prudent men. Meantime the young and hot-headed people went to work in their own way. It is probable that the petitions of Congress would have had little or no effect on the British statesmen if the [violent deeds] of the American people had not shown how much excited the people were. Liberty Tree was soon heard of in England.

“What was Liberty Tree?” inquired Clara.

“It was an old elm tree,” answered Grandfather, “which stood near the corner of Essex street, opposite the Boylston Market. Under the spreading branches of this great tree the people used to assemble whenever they wished to express their feelings and opinions. Thus, after a while it seemed as if the liberty of the country was connected with Liberty Tree.”

“It was glorious fruit for a tree to bear,” remarked Laurence.

“It bore strange fruit sometimes,” said Grandfather. “One morning in August, 1765, two figures were found hanging on the sturdy branches of Liberty Tree. They were dressed in square-skirted coats and smallclothes, and as their wigs hung down over their faces they looked like real men. One was intended to represent the Earl of Bute, who was supposed to have advised the King to tax America. The other was meant for the effigy of Andrew Oliver, a gentleman belonging to one of the most respectable families in Massachusetts.”

“What harm had he done?” inquired Charley.

“The King had appointed him to be distributer of the stamps,” answered Grandfather. “Mr. Oliver would have made a great deal of money by this business; but the people frightened him so much by [hanging him in effigy], and afterward by breaking into his house, that he promised to have nothing to do with the stamps. And all the King’s friends throughout America were compelled to make the same promise.”

NOTES AND QUESTIONS

Discussion. 1. Describe the loyalty of the colonists to King George. 2. Give two reasons why the colonies began to feel more and more independent. 3. What were some of the laws passed by the English Parliament that made the colonies wish for independence? 4. What was the Stamp Act? 5. Would you have felt as Clara did or as Laurence felt? 6. Describe the change that these wrongs wrought in the colonists. 7. Describe the congress proposed by the Massachusetts legislature. 8. What did this congress do? 9. Why was this congress so important? 10. How did Liberty Tree get its name? 11. What “fruit” did it bear? 12. Pronounce the following: comprehend; sagacious; tributaries; effigy; Parliament.

Phrases

British Soldiers Stationed in Boston

The next evening, Clara, who remembered that our chair had been left standing in the rain under Liberty Tree, earnestly besought Grandfather to tell when and where it had next found shelter. Perhaps she was afraid that the venerable chair, by being [exposed to the inclemency] of a September gale, might get the rheumatism in its aged joints.

“The chair,” said Grandfather, “after the ceremony of Mr. Oliver’s oath, appears to have been quite forgotten by the multitude. Indeed, being much bruised and rather rickety, owing to the violent treatment it had suffered from the Hutchinson mob, most people would have thought that its days of usefulness were over. Nevertheless, it was conveyed away [under cover of the night] and [committed to the care] of a [skillful joiner]. He doctored our old friend so successfully that in the course of a few days it made its appearance in the public room of the British Coffee-house in King Street.”

“But why did not Mr. Hutchinson get possession of it again?” inquired Charley.

“I know not,” answered Grandfather, “unless he considered it a dishonor and disgrace to the chair to have stood under Liberty Tree. At all events, he suffered it to remain at the British Coffee-house, which was the principal hotel in Boston. It could not possibly have found a situation where it would be more in the midst of business and bustle, or would witness more important events, or be occupied by a greater variety of persons.”

Grandfather went on to tell the proceedings of the despotic King and ministry of England after the repeal of the stamp act. They could not bear to think that their right to tax America should be disputed by the people. In the year 1767, therefore, they caused Parliament to pass an act for laying a duty on tea and some other articles that were in general use. Nobody could now buy a pound of tea without paying a tax to King George. This scheme was pretty [craftily contrived], for the women of America were very fond of tea, and did not like to give up the use of it.

But the people were as much opposed to this new act of Parliament as they had been to the stamp act. England, however, was determined that they should submit. In order to compel their obedience two regiments, consisting of more than seven hundred British soldiers, were sent to Boston. They arrived in September, 1768, and were landed on Long Wharf. Thence they marched to [the Common] with loaded muskets, fixed bayonets, and great [pomp and parade]. So now at last the free town of Boston was guarded and overawed by red-coats as it had been in the days of old Sir Edmond Andros.

In the month of November more regiments arrived. There were now four thousand troops in Boston. The Common was whitened with their tents. Some of the soldiers were lodged in Faneuil Hall, which the inhabitants looked upon as a consecrated place because it had been the scene of a great many meetings in favor of liberty. One regiment was placed in the Town House, which we now call the Old State House. The lower floor of this edifice had hitherto been used by the merchants as an exchange. In the upper stories were the chambers of the judges, the representatives, and the governor’s council. The [venerable councilors] could not assemble to consult about the welfare of the province without being challenged by sentinels and passing among the bayonets of the British soldiers.

Sentinels likewise were posted at the lodgings of the officers in many parts of the town. When the inhabitants approached, they were greeted by the sharp question, “Who goes there?” while the rattle of the soldier’s musket was heard as he presented it against their breasts. There was no quiet even on the Sabbath day. The pious descendants of the Puritans were shocked by the uproar of military music, the drum, fife, and bugle drowning the holy organ-peal and the voices of the singers. It would appear as if the British took every method to insult the feelings of the people.

“Grandfather,” cried Charley, impatiently, “the people did not go to fighting half soon enough! These British red-coats ought to have been driven back to their vessels the very moment they landed on Long Wharf.”

“Many a hot-headed young man said the same as you do, Charley,” answered Grandfather, “but the elder and wiser people saw that the time was not yet come. Meanwhile, let us take another peep at our old chair.”

“Ah, it drooped its head, I know,” said Charley, “when it saw how the province was disgraced. Its old Puritan friends never would have borne such doings.”

“The chair,” proceeded Grandfather, “was now continually occupied by some of the high Tories, as the King’s friends were called, who frequented the British Coffee House. Officers of the custom-house too, which stood on the opposite side of King Street, often sat in the chair wagging their tongues against John Hancock.”

“Why against him?” asked Charley.

“Because he was a great merchant and contended against paying duties to the King,” said Grandfather.

“Well, frequently, no doubt, the officers of the British regiments, when not on duty, used to fling themselves into the arms of our venerable chair. Fancy one of them a red-nosed captain in his scarlet uniform, playing with the hilt of his sword and making a circle of his brother officers merry with ridiculous jokes at the expense of the poor Yankees. And perhaps he would call for a bottle of wine or a steaming bowl of punch and drink confusion to all rebels.”

“Our grave old chair must have been scandalized at such scenes,” observed Laurence—“the chair that had been the Lady Arbella’s and which the holy apostle Eliot had consecrated.”

“It certainly was little less than sacrilege,” replied Grandfather; “but the time was coming when even the churches where hallowed pastors had long preached the word of God were to be torn down or desecrated by the British troops. Some years passed, however, before such things were done.”

Grandfather now told his auditors that in 1769 Sir Francis Bernard went to England, after having been governor of Massachusetts ten years. He was a gentleman of many good qualities, an excellent scholar, and a friend to learning. But he was naturally of an [arbitrary disposition], and he had been bred at the University of Oxford, where young men were taught that the [divine right of kings] was the only thing to be regarded in matters of government. Such ideas were ill adapted to please the people of Massachusetts. They rejoiced to get rid of Sir Francis Bernard, but liked his successor, Lieutenant-governor Hutchinson, no better than himself.

About this period the people were much incensed at an act committed by a person who held an office in the custom-house. Some lads or young men were snowballing his windows. He fired a musket at them and killed a poor boy only eleven years old. This event made a great noise in town and country, and much increased the resentment that was already felt against the servants of the Crown.

“Now, children,” said Grandfather, “I wish to make you comprehend the position of the British troops in King Street. This is the same which we now call State Street. On the south side of the Town House, or Old State House, was what military men call a [court of guard], defended by two brass cannons which pointed directly at one of the doors of the above edifice. A large party of soldiers were always stationed in the court of guard. The custom-house stood at a little distance down King Street, nearly where the Suffolk Bank now stands, and a sentinel was continually pacing before its front.”

“I shall remember this tomorrow,” said Charley, “and I will go to State Street, so as to see exactly where the British troops were stationed.”

“And before long,” observed Grandfather, “I shall have to relate an event which made King Street sadly famous on both sides of the Atlantic. The history of our chair will soon bring us to this melancholy business.”

Here Grandfather described the state of things which arose from the ill-will that existed between the inhabitants and the red-coats. The old and sober part of the townspeople were very angry at the government for sending soldiers to overawe them. But those gray-headed men were cautious, and kept their thoughts and feelings in their own breasts, without putting themselves in the way of the British bayonets.

The younger people, however, could hardly be kept [within such prudent limits]. They reddened with wrath at the very sight of a soldier, and would have been willing to come to blows with them at any moment. For it was their opinion that every tap of a British drum within the peninsula of Boston was an insult to the brave old town.

“It was sometimes the case,” continued Grandfather, “that affrays happened between such wild young men as these and small parties of the soldiers. No weapons had hitherto been used except fists or cudgels. But when men have loaded muskets in their hands, it is easy to foretell that they will soon be turned against the bosoms of those who provoke their anger.”

“Grandfather,” said little Alice, looking fearfully into his face, “your voice sounds as though you were going to tell us something awful.”

NOTES AND QUESTIONS

Discussion. 1. What act did Parliament pass after the repeal of the Stamp Act? 2. What did England do to compel the colonists to submit to this new act? 3. Why was it a good thing for the chair to be in the British Coffee House? 4. Describe the British soldiers in Boston, on the Common, in Faneuil Hall, and in the Old State House. 5. How was the Sabbath spent? 6. What did the chair experience during these days? 7. What happened at the custom-house? 8. What was the difference in behavior between the older townspeople and the younger ones? 9. What was the King’s purpose in stationing the British soldiers in Boston? 10. Pronounce the following: inclemency; aged; edifice; frequented.

Phrases

The Boston Massacre

Little Alice, by her last remark, proved herself a good judge of what was expressed by the tones of Grandfather’s voice. He had given the above description of the enmity between the townspeople and the soldiers in order to prepare the minds of his auditors for a very terrible event. It was one that did more to heighten the quarrel between England and America than anything that had yet occurred.

Without further preface Grandfather began the story of the Boston Massacre.

It was now the 3d of March, 1770. The sunset music of the British regiments was heard as usual throughout the town. The shrill fife and rattling drum [awoke the echoes] in King Street while the last ray of sunshine was [lingering on the cupola] of the Town House, And now all the sentinels were posted. One of them marched up and down before the custom-house, treading a short path through the snow and longing for the time when he would be dismissed to the warm fireside of the guard-room. Meanwhile, Captain Preston was perhaps sitting in our great chair before the hearth of the British Coffee House. In the course of the evening there were two or three slight commotions which seemed to indicate that trouble was at hand. Small parties of young men stood at the corners of the streets or walked along the narrow pavements. Squads of soldiers who were dismissed from duty passed by them, shoulder to shoulder, with the regular step which they had learned at the drill. Whenever these encounters took place it appeared to be the object of the young men to treat the soldiers with as much incivility as possible.

“Turn out, you [lobster-backs]!” one would say. “Crowd them off the sidewalks!” another would cry. “A red-coat has no right in Boston streets!”

“Oh, you [rebel rascals]!” perhaps the soldiers would reply, glaring fiercely at the young men. “Some day or other we’ll make our way through Boston streets at the point of the bayonet!”

Once or twice such disputes as these brought on a scuffle, which passed off, however, without attracting much notice. About eight o’clock, for some unknown cause, an alarm bell rang loudly and hurriedly.

At the sound many people ran out of their houses, supposing it to be an alarm of fire. But there were no flames to be seen, nor was there any smell of smoke in the clear, frosty air, so that most of the townsmen went back to their own firesides and sat talking with their wives and children about the calamities of the times. Others who were younger and less prudent remained in the streets, for there seems to have been a presentiment that some strange event was on the eve of taking place.

Later in the evening, not far from nine o’clock, several young men passed by the Town House and walked down King Street. The sentinel was still on his post in front of the custom-house, pacing to and fro, while as he turned, a gleam of light from some neighboring window glittered on the barrel of his musket. At no great distance were the barracks and the guard-house, where his comrades were probably telling stories of battle and bloodshed.

Down toward the custom-house, as I told you, came a party of wild young men. When they drew near the sentinel he halted on his post and took his musket from his shoulder, ready to present the bayonet at their breasts.

“Who goes there?” he cried, in the gruff, [peremptory tones] of a soldier’s challenge.

The young men, being Boston boys, felt as if they had a right to walk their own streets without being [accountable to] a British red-coat, even though he challenged them in King George’s name. They made some rude answer to the sentinel. There was a dispute, or perhaps a scuffle. Other soldiers heard the noise, and ran hastily from the barracks to assist their comrades. At the same time many of the townspeople rushed into King Street by various avenues and gathered in a crowd round about the custom-house. It seemed wonderful how such a multitude had started up all of a sudden.

The wrongs and insults which the people had been suffering for many months now kindled them into a rage. They threw snowballs and lumps of ice at the soldiers. As the tumult grew louder it reached the ears of Captain Preston, the officer of the day. He immediately ordered eight soldiers of the main guard to take their muskets and follow him. They marched across the street, forcing their way roughly through the crowd and pricking the townspeople with their bayonets.

A gentleman (it was Henry Knox, afterward general of the American artillery) caught Captain Preston’s arm.

“For Heaven’s sake, sir,” exclaimed he, “take heed what you do or there will be bloodshed!”

“Stand aside!” answered Captain Preston, haughtily. “Do not interfere, sir. Leave me to manage the affair.”

Arriving at the sentinel’s post, Captain Preston drew up his men in a semicircle with their faces to the crowd and their rear to the custom-house. When the people saw the officer and beheld the threatening attitude with which the soldiers fronted them their rage became almost uncontrollable.

“Fire, you lobster-backs!” bellowed some.

“You dare not fire, you cowardly red-coats!” cried others.

“Rush upon them!” shouted many voices. “Drive the rascals to their barracks! Down with them! Down with them! Let them fire if they dare!”

Amid the uproar the soldiers stood glaring at the people with the fierceness of men whose trade was to shed blood.

Oh, what a crisis had now arrived! Up to this very moment the angry feelings between England and America might have been pacified. England had but to stretch out the hand of reconciliation and acknowledge that she had hitherto mistaken her rights, but would do so no more. Then the ancient bonds of brotherhood would again have been knit together as firmly as in old times. The habit of loyalty which had grown as strong as instinct was not utterly overcome. The perils shared, the victories won, in the Old French War, when the soldiers of the colonies fought side by side with their comrades from beyond the sea, were unforgotten yet. England was still that beloved country which the colonists called their home. King George, though he had frowned upon America, was still reverenced as a father.

But should the King’s soldiers shed one drop of American blood, then it was a quarrel to the death. Never, never would America rest satisfied until she had torn down the royal authority and trampled it in the dust.

“Fire if you dare, villains!” hoarsely shouted the people while the muzzles of the muskets were turned upon them. “You dare not fire!”

They appeared ready to rush upon the level bayonets. Captain Preston waved his sword and uttered a command which could not be distinctly heard amid the uproar of shouts that issued from a hundred throats. But his soldiers deemed that he had spoken the [fatal mandate], “Fire!” The flash of their muskets lighted up the street, and the report rang loudly between the edifices. It was said, too, that the figure of a man with a cloth hanging down over his face was seen to step into the balcony of the custom-house and discharge a musket at the crowd.

A gush of smoke had overspread the scene. It rose heavily, as if it were [loath to reveal] the dreadful spectacle beneath it. Eleven of the sons of New England lay stretched upon the street. Some, sorely wounded, were struggling to rise again. Others stirred not nor groaned, for they were past all pain. Blood was streaming upon the snow, and that purple stain in the midst of King Street, though it melted away in the next day’s sun, was never forgotten nor forgiven by the people.

Grandfather was interrupted by the violent sobs of little Alice. In his earnestness he had neglected to soften down the narrative so that it might not terrify the heart of this [unworldly infant]. Since Grandfather began the history of our chair little Alice had listened to many tales of war, but probably the idea had never really impressed itself upon her mind that men had shed the blood of their fellow-creatures. And now that this idea was forcibly presented to her, it affected the sweet child with bewilderment and horror.

“I ought to have remembered our dear little Alice,” said Grandfather reproachfully to himself. “Oh, what a pity! Her heavenly nature has now received its first impression of earthly sin and violence.—Well, Clara, take her to bed and comfort her. Heaven grant that she may dream away the recollection of the Boston massacre!”

“Grandfather,” said Charley when Clara and little Alice had retired, “did not the people rush upon the soldiers and take revenge?”

“The town drums beat to arms,” replied Grandfather, “the alarm-bells rang, and an immense multitude rushed into King Street. Many of them had weapons in their hands. The British prepared to defend themselves. A whole regiment was drawn up in the street expecting an attack, for the townsmen appeared ready to throw themselves upon the bayonets.”

“And how did it end?” asked Charley.

“Governor Hutchinson hurried to the spot,” said Grandfather, “and besought the people to have patience, promising that [strict justice] should be done. A day or two afterward the British troops were withdrawn from town and stationed at Castle William. Captain Preston and the eight soldiers were tried for murder, but none of them were found guilty. The judges told the jury that the insults and violence which had been offered to the soldiers justified them in firing at the mob.”

“The Revolution,” observed Laurence, who had said but little during the evening, “was not such a calm, [majestic movement] as I supposed. I do not love to hear of [mobs and broils] in the street. These things were unworthy of the people when they had such a great object to accomplish.”

“Nevertheless, the world has seen no grander movement than that of our Revolution from first to last,” said Grandfather. “The people, to a man, were full of a great and noble sentiment. True, there may be much fault to find with their mode of expressing this sentiment, but they knew no better; the [necessity was upon them] to act out their feelings in the best manner they could. We must forgive what was wrong in their actions, and look into their hearts and minds for the honorable motives that impelled them.”

“And I suppose,” said Laurence, “there were men who knew how to act worthily of what they felt.”

“There were many such,” replied Grandfather, “and we will speak of some of them hereafter.”

Grandfather here made a pause. That night Charley had a dream about the Boston massacre, and thought that he himself was in the crowd and struck down Captain Preston with a great club. Laurence dreamed that he was sitting in our great chair at the window of the British Coffee-house, and beheld the whole scene which Grandfather had described. It seemed to him, in his dream, that if the townspeople and the soldiers would have but heard him speak a single word, all the slaughter might have been averted. But there was such an uproar that it drowned his voice.

The next morning the two boys went together to State Street and stood on the very spot where the first blood of the Revolution had been shed. The Old State House was still there, presenting almost the same aspect that it had worn on that memorable evening one and seventy years ago. It is the [sole remaining witness] of the Boston massacre.

NOTES AND QUESTIONS

Discussion. 1. Describe the scene before the custom-house on the evening of March 3, 1770. 2. What do you think of the conduct of the young men of Boston? 3. How did it happen that the crowd gathered so quickly? 4. What is your opinion of Captain Preston as compared with Henry Knox? 5. Why was the situation called a crisis? 6. How could it have been avoided? 7. What was the effect of the fateful order? 8. Do you admire Governor Hutchinson’s stand? 9. What happened to Captain Preston and his soldiers? 10. What defense did Captain Preston probably make? 11. Do you sympathize with Laurence in his feeling about the Revolution? 12. In what respects do you think the dreams of the two boys expressed their natures? 13. Read the paragraphs that seem to you most thrilling and dramatic. 14. Select sentences that you think show Hawthorne’s skill at descriptive writing. 15. Pronounce the following: hearth; incivility; peremptory; villains.

Phrases

Some Famous Portraits

The next evening the [astral lamp] was lighted earlier than usual, because Laurence was very much engaged in looking over the collection of portraits which had been his New Year’s gift from Grandfather.

Among them he found the features of more than one famous personage who had been connected with the adventures of our old chair. Grandfather bade him draw the table nearer to the fireside, and they looked over the portraits together, while Clara and Charley likewise lent their attention. As for little Alice, she sat in Grandfather’s lap, and seemed to see the very men alive whose faces were there represented.

Turning over the volume, Laurence came to the portrait of a stern, grim-looking man in plain attire, of much more modern fashion than that of the old Puritans. But the face might well have befitted one of those iron-hearted men. Beneath the portrait was the name of Samuel Adams.

“He was a man of great note in all the doings that brought about the Revolution,” said Grandfather. “His character was such that it seemed as if one of the ancient Puritans had been sent back to earth to [animate the people’s hearts] with the same [abhorrence of tyranny] that had distinguished the earliest settlers. He was as religious as they, as stern and inflexible, and as deeply [imbued with democratic principles]. He, better than any one else, may be taken as a representative of the people of New England, and of the spirit with which they engaged in the Revolutionary struggle. He was a poor man, and earned his bread by a humble occupation, but with his tongue and pen he made the King of England tremble on his throne. Remember him, my children, as one of the strong men of our country.”

“Here is one whose looks show a very different character,” observed Laurence, turning to the portrait of John Hancock. “I should think, by his splendid dress and courtly aspect, that he was one of the King’s friends.”

“There never was a greater contrast than between Samuel Adams and John Hancock,” said Grandfather, “yet they were of the same side in politics, and had an [equal agency] in the Revolution. Hancock was born to the inheritance of the largest fortune in New England. His tastes and habits were aristocratic. He loved [gorgeous attire], a splendid mansion, magnificent furniture, stately festivals, and all that was glittering and pompous in external things. His manners were so polished that there stood not a nobleman at the footstool of King George’s throne who was a more [skillful courtier] than John Hancock might have been. Nevertheless, he in his embroidered clothes and Samuel Adams in his threadbare coat wrought together in the cause of liberty. Adams acted from pure and rigid principle. Hancock, though he loved his country, yet thought quite as much of his own popularity as he did of the people’s rights. It is remarkable that these two men, so very different as I describe them, were the only two exempted from pardon by the King’s proclamation.”

On the next leaf of the book was the portrait of General Joseph Warren. Charley recognized the name, and said that here was a greater man than either Hancock or Adams.

“Warren was an eloquent and able patriot,” replied Grandfather. “He deserves a lasting memory for his zealous efforts in behalf of liberty. No man’s voice was more powerful in Faneuil Hall than Joseph Warren’s. If his death had not happened so early in the contest, he would probably have gained a high name as a soldier.”

The next portrait was a venerable man who held his thumb under his chin, and through his spectacles appeared to be attentively reading a manuscript.

“Here we see the most illustrious Boston boy that ever lived,” said Grandfather. “This is Benjamin Franklin. But I will not try to compress into a few sentences the character of the sage who, as a Frenchman expressed it, snatched the lightning from the sky and the scepter from a tyrant. Mr. Sparks must help you to the knowledge of Franklin.”

The book likewise contained portraits of James Otis and Josiah Quincy. Both of them, Grandfather observed, were men of wonderful talents and true patriotism. Their voices were like the stirring tones of a trumpet arousing the country to defend its freedom. Heaven seemed to have provided a greater number of eloquent men than had appeared at any other period, in order that the people might be fully instructed as to their wrongs and the method of resistance.

“It is marvelous,” said Grandfather, “to see how many powerful writers, orators, and soldiers started up just at the time when they were wanted. There was a man for every kind of work. It is equally wonderful that men of such different characters were all made to unite in the one object of establishing the freedom and independence of America. There was an [overruling Providence] above them.”

“Here was another great man,” remarked Laurence, pointing to the portrait of John Adams.

“Yes; an earnest, warm-tempered, honest, and most able man,” said Grandfather. “At the period of which we are now speaking he was a lawyer in Boston. He was destined in after years to be ruler over the whole American people, whom he contributed so much to form into a nation.”

Grandfather here remarked that many a New Englander who had passed his boyhood and youth in obscurity afterward attained to a fortune which he never could have foreseen even in his most [ambitious dreams]. John Adams, the second President of the United States and the equal of crowned kings, was once a schoolmaster and country lawyer. Hancock, the first signer of the Declaration of Independence, served his apprenticeship with a merchant. Samuel Adams, afterward governor of Massachusetts, was a small tradesman and a tax-gatherer. General Warren was a physician, General Lincoln a farmer, and General Knox a bookbinder. General Nathaniel Greene, the best soldier except Washington in the Revolutionary army, was a Quaker and a blacksmith. All these became illustrious men, and can never be forgotten in American history.

“And any boy who is born in America may look forward to the same things,” said our ambitious friend Charley.

After these observations Grandfather drew the book of portraits toward him, showed the children several British peers and members of Parliament who had exerted themselves either for or against the rights of America. There were the Earl of Bute, Mr. Grenville, and Lord North. These were looked upon as deadly enemies to our country.

Among the friends of America was Mr. Pitt, afterward Earl of Chatham, who spent so much of his wondrous eloquence in endeavoring to warn England of the consequences of her injustice. He fell down on the floor of the House of Lords after uttering his almost dying words in defense of our privileges as freemen. There was Edmund Burke, one of the wisest men and greatest orators that ever the world produced. There was Colonel Barré, who had been among our fathers, and knew that they had courage enough to die for their rights. There was Charles James Fox, who never rested until he had silenced our enemies in the House of Commons.

“It is very remarkable to observe how many of the ablest orators in the British Parliament were favorable to America,” said Grandfather. “We ought to remember these great Englishmen with gratitude, for their speeches encouraged our fathers almost as much as those of our own orators in Faneuil Hall and under Liberty Tree. Opinions which might have been received with doubt if expressed only by a native American were set down as true beyond dispute when they came from the lips of Chatham, Burke, Barré, or Fox.”

“But, Grandfather,” asked Laurence, “were there no able and eloquent men in this country who took the part of King George?”

“There were many men of talent who said what they could in defense of the King’s [tyrannical proceedings],” replied Grandfather, “but they had the worst side of the argument, and therefore seldom said anything worth remembering. Moreover, their hearts were faint and feeble, for they felt that the people scorned and detested them. They had no friends, no defense, except in the bayonets of the British troops. A [blight fell upon all their faculties] because they were contending against the rights of their own native land.”

“What were the names of some of them?” inquired Charley.

“Governor Hutchinson, Chief-justice Oliver, Judge Auchmuty, the Reverend Mather Byles, and several other clergymen were among the most noted loyalists,” answered Grandfather.

“I wish the people had tarred and feathered every man of them!” cried Charley.

“That wish is very wrong, Charley,” said Grandfather. “You must not think that there was no integrity and honor except among those who stood up for the freedom of America. For aught I know, there was quite as much of these qualities on one side as on the other. Do you see nothing admirable in a [faithful adherence] to an unpopular cause? Can you not respect that [principle of loyalty] which made the royalists give up country, friends, fortune, everything, rather than be false to their king? It was a mistaken principle, but many of them cherished it honorably and were martyrs to it.”

“Oh, I was wrong,” said Charley, ingenuously. “And I would risk my life rather than one of those good old royalists should be tarred and feathered.”

“The time is now come when we may judge fairly of them,” continued Grandfather. “Be the good and true men among them honored, for they were as much our countrymen as the patriots were. And, thank Heaven! our country need not be ashamed of her sons—of most of them at least—whatever side they took in the Revolutionary contest.”

Among the portraits was one of King George III. Little Alice clapped her hands and seemed pleased with the [bluff good nature of his physiognomy]. But Laurence thought it strange that a man with such a face, indicating hardly a common share of intellect, should have had influence enough on human affairs to convulse the world with war. Grandfather observed that this poor king had always appeared to him one of the most unfortunate persons that ever lived. He was so honest and conscientious that if he had been only a private man his life would probably have been blameless and happy. But his was that worst of fortunes—to be placed in a station far beyond his abilities.

“And so,” said Grandfather, “his life, while he retained what intellect Heaven had gifted him with, was one long mortification. At last he grew crazed with care and trouble. For nearly twenty years the monarch of England was confined as a madman. In his old age, too, God took away his eyesight, so that his royal palace was nothing to him but a dark, lonesome prison-house.”

NOTES AND QUESTIONS

Discussion. 1. Describe the family group around the fireside. 2. What is the center of interest? 3. Contrast the pictures of Samuel Adams and John Hancock. 4. What is said about General Joseph Warren? 5. Would you have been able to recognize Hawthorne’s word picture of Benjamin Franklin without the name? 6. How does Grandfather explain the existence of these remarkable men just when they were most needed? 7. Do you know of any other time in our history when this seemed true? 8. Mention the humble origin of some of the Revolutionary patriots. 9. What do you think about them as fitting people to be founders of a great democracy? 10; What suggestion was there in this for Charley? 11. Name four famous Englishmen who took sides with the colonies. 12. What was their great service? 13. What do you think of Grandfather’s answer to Charley’s outburst against the loyalists? 14. Do you admire the quality Grandfather shows of seeing both sides of a question? 15. What was Grandfather’s comment on King George III? 16. Pronounce the following: abhorrence; gorgeous; courtier; admirable; ingenuously.

Phrases

THE GRAY CHAMPION

NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE

There was once a time when New England groaned under the actual pressure of heavier wrongs than those threatened ones which brought on the Revolution. James II, the bigoted successor of Charles the Voluptuous, had annulled the charters of all the colonies, and sent a harsh and unprincipled soldier to take away our liberties and endanger our religion. The administration of Sir Edmund Andros lacked scarcely a single characteristic of tyranny: a Governor and Council, holding office from the King, and wholly independent of the Country; laws made and taxes levied without concurrence of the people, immediate or by their representatives; the rights of private citizens violated, and the titles of all landed property declared void; the voice of complaint stifled by restrictions on the press; and, finally, disaffection overawed by the first band of [mercenary troops] that ever marched on our free soil. For two years our ancestors were kept in sullen submission by that [filial love] which had invariably secured their allegiance to the mother country, whether its head chanced to be a Parliament, Protector, or Monarch. Till these evil times, however, such [allegiance had been merely nominal], and the colonists had ruled themselves, enjoying far more freedom than even yet the privilege of the native subjects of Great Britain.

At length a rumor reached our shores that the Prince of Orange had ventured on an enterprise the success of which would be the triumph of [civil and religious rights] and the salvation of New England. It was but a doubtful whisper; it might be false, or the attempt might fail; and, in either case, the man that stirred against King James would lose his head. Still, the intelligence produced a marked effect. The people smiled mysteriously in the streets, and threw bold glances at their oppressors; while, far and wide, there was a subdued and silent agitation, as if the slightest signal would rouse the whole land from its [sluggish despondency]. Aware of their danger, the rulers resolved to avert it by an imposing display of strength, and perhaps to confirm their despotism by yet harsher measures. One afternoon in April, 1689, Sir Edmund Andros and his favorite councilors, being warm with wine, assembled the red-coats of the Governors’ Guard, and made their appearance in the streets of Boston. The sun was near setting when the march commenced.

The roll of the drum, at that unquiet crisis, seemed to go through the streets, less as the martial music of the soldiers, than as a muster-call to the inhabitants themselves. A multitude, by various avenues, assembled in King Street, which was destined to be the scene, nearly a century afterwards, of another encounter between the troops of Britain and a people struggling against her tyranny. Though more than sixty years had elapsed since the Pilgrims came, this crowd of their descendants still showed the strong and somber features of their character, perhaps more strikingly in such a stern emergency than on happier occasions. There was the sober garb, the general [severity of mien], the gloomy but undismayed expression, the Scriptural forms of speech, and the confidence in Heaven’s blessing on a righteous cause, which would have marked a band of the original Puritans, when threatened by some peril of the wilderness. Indeed, it was not yet time for the old spirit to be extinct; since there were men in the street, that day, who had worshiped there beneath the trees, before a house was reared to the God for whom they had become exiles. Old soldiers of the Parliament were here, too, smiling grimly at the thought that their aged arms might strike another blow against the house of Stuart. Here, also, were the veterans of King Philip’s war, who had burned villages and slaughtered young and old, with pious fierceness, while the godly souls throughout the land were helping them with prayer. Several ministers were scattered among the crowd, which, unlike all other mobs, regarded them with such reverence as if there were sanctity in their very garments. These holy men exerted their influence to quiet the people, but not to disperse them. Meantime, the purpose of the Governor, in disturbing the peace of the town, at a period when the slightest commotion might throw the country into a ferment, was almost the universal subject of inquiry, and variously explained.

“Satan will strike his master-stroke presently,” cried some, “because he knoweth that his time is short. All our godly pastors are to be dragged to prison! We shall see them at a Smithfield fire in King Street!”

Hereupon the people of each parish gathered closer round their minister, who looked calmly upwards and assumed a more [apostolic dignity], as well befitted a candidate for the highest honor of his profession, the crown of martyrdom. It was actually fancied, at that period, that New England might have a John Rogers of her own, to take the place of that worthy in the Primer.

“We are to be massacred, both man and male child!” cried others.

Neither was this rumor wholly discredited, although the wiser class believed the Governor’s object somewhat less atrocious. His predecessor under the old charter, Bradstreet, a venerable companion of the first settlers, was known to be in town. There were grounds for conjecturing that Sir Edmund Andros intended, at once, to strike terror, by a parade of military force, and to [confound the opposite faction] by possessing himself of their chief.

“Stand firm for the old charter, Governor!” shouted the crowd, seizing upon the idea. “The good old Governor Bradstreet!”

While this cry was at the loudest, the people were surprised by the well-known figure of Governor Bradstreet himself, a patriarch of nearly ninety, who appeared on the elevated steps of a door, and, with characteristic mildness, besought them to submit to the constituted authorities.

“My children,” concluded this venerable person, “do nothing rashly. Cry not aloud, but pray for the welfare of New England, and expect patiently what the Lord will do in this matter!”

The event was soon to be decided. All this time the roll of the drum had been approaching through Cornhill, louder and deeper, till with reverberations from house to house, and the regular tramp of martial footsteps, it burst into the street. A double rank of soldiers made their appearance, occupying the whole breadth of the passage, with shouldered matchlocks, and matches burning, so as to present a row of fires in the dusk. Their steady march was like the progress of a machine, that would roll irresistibly over everything in its way. Next, moving slowly, with a confused clatter of hoofs on the pavement, rode a party of mounted gentlemen, the central figure being Sir Edmund Andros, elderly, but erect and soldier-like. Those around him were his favorite councilors, and the bitterest foes of New England. At his right hand rode Edward Randolph, our arch-enemy, that “blasted wretch,” as Cotton Mather calls him, who achieved the downfall of our ancient government, and was followed with a sensible curse, through life and to his grave. On the other side was Bullivant, scattering jests and mockery as he rode along. Dudley came behind, with a downcast look, dreading, as well he might, to meet the indignant gaze of the people, who beheld him, their only countryman by birth, among the oppressors of his native land. The captain of a frigate in the harbor, and two or three civil officers under the Crown, were also there. But the figure which most attracted the public eye, and stirred up the deepest feeling, was the Episcopal clergyman of King’s Chapel, riding haughtily among the magistrates in his priestly vestments, the fitting representative of [prelacy and persecution], the union of Church and State, and all those abominations which had driven the Puritans to the wilderness. Another guard of soldiers, in double rank, brought up the rear.

The whole scene was a picture of the condition of New England, and its moral, the deformity of any government that does not grow out of the nature of things and the character of the people. On one side the religious multitude, with their sad visages and dark attire, and on the other, the group of despotic rulers, with the High-Churchman in the midst, and here and there a crucifix at their bosoms, all magnificently clad, flushed with wine, proud of unjust authority, and scoffing at the universal groan. And the mercenary soldiers, waiting but the word to deluge the street with blood, showed the only means by which obedience could be secured.

“O Lord of Hosts,” cried a voice among the crowd, “provide a Champion for thy people!”

This ejaculation was loudly uttered, and served as a herald’s cry, to introduce a remarkable personage. The crowd had rolled back, and were now huddled together nearly at the extremity of the street, while the soldiers had advanced no more than a third of its length. The intervening space was empty—a paved solitude, between lofty edifices, which threw almost a twilight shadow over it. Suddenly, there was seen the figure of an ancient man, who seemed to have emerged from among the people, and was walking by himself along the center of the street, to confront the armed band. He wore the old Puritan dress, a dark cloak and a steeple-crowned hat, in the fashion of at least fifty years before, with a heavy sword upon his thigh, but a staff in his hand to assist the tremulous gait of age.

When at some distance from the multitude, the old man turned slowly round, displaying a face of antique majesty, rendered doubly venerable by the hoary beard that descended on his breast. He made a gesture at once of encouragement and warning, then turned again, and resumed his way.

“Who is this gray patriarch?” asked the young men of their sires.

“Who is this venerable brother?” asked the old men among themselves.

But none could make reply. The fathers of the people, those of fourscore years and upwards, were disturbed, deeming it strange that they should forget one of such evident authority, whom they must have known in their early days, the associate of Winthrop, and all the old councilors, giving laws, and making prayers, and leading them against the savage. The elderly men ought to have remembered him, too, with locks as gray in their youth as their own were now. And the young! How could he have passed so utterly from their memories—that hoary sire, the relic of long-departed times, whose awful benediction had surely been bestowed on their uncovered heads, in childhood?

“Whence did he come? What is his purpose? Who can this old man be?” whispered the wondering crowd.

Meanwhile, the venerable stranger, staff in hand, was pursuing his solitary walk along the center of the street. As he drew near the advancing soldiers, and as the roll of their drum came full upon his ear, the old man raised himself to a loftier mien, while the decrepitude of age seemed to fall from his shoulders, leaving him in gray but unbroken dignity. Now, he marched onward with a warrior’s step, keeping time to the military music. Thus the aged form advanced on one side, and the whole parade of soldiers and magistrates on the other, till, when scarcely twenty yards remained between, the old man grasped his staff by the middle, and held it before him like a [leader’s truncheon].

“Stand!” cried he.

The eye, the face, and attitude of command, the solemn, yet warlike peal of that voice, fit either to rule a host in the battlefield or be raised to God in prayer, were irresistible. At the old man’s word and outstretched arm, the roll of the drum was hushed at once, and the advancing line stood still. A tremulous enthusiasm seized upon the multitude. That stately form, combining the leader and the saint, so gray, so dimly seen, in such an ancient garb, could only belong to some old champion of the righteous cause, whom the oppressor’s drum had summoned from his grave. They raised a shout of awe and exultation, and looked for the deliverance of New England.

The Governor, and the gentlemen of his party, perceiving themselves brought to an unexpected stand, rode hastily forward, as if they would have pressed their snorting and affrighted horses right against the [hoary apparition]. He, however, blenched not a step, but glancing his severe eye round the group, which [half encompassed] him, at last bent it sternly on Sir Edmund Andros. One would have thought that the dark old man was chief ruler there, and that the Governor and Council, with soldiers at their back, representing the whole power and authority of the Crown, had no alternative but obedience.

“What does this old fellow here?” cried Edward Randolph, fiercely. “On, Sir Edmund! Bid the soldiers forward, and give the dotard the same choice that you give all his countrymen—to stand aside or be trampled on!”

“Nay, nay, let us show respect to the good grandsire,” said Bullivant, laughing. “See you not, he is some old [roundheaded dignitary], who hath lain asleep these thirty years, and knows nothing of the change of times? Doubtless, he thinks to put us down with a proclamation in Old Noll’s name!”

“Are you mad, old man?” demanded Sir Edmund Andros, in loud and harsh tones. “How dare you stay the march of King James’s Governor?”

“I have stayed the march of a king himself, ere now,” replied the gray figure, with stern composure. “I am here, Sir Governor, because the cry of an oppressed people hath disturbed me in my secret place; and beseeching this favor earnestly of the Lord, it was vouchsafed me to appear once again on earth, in the good old cause of his saints. And what speak ye of James? There is no longer a tyrant on the throne of England, and by tomorrow noon his name shall be a byword in this very street, where ye would make it a word of terror. Back, thou that wast a Governor, back! With this night thy power is ended—tomorrow, the prison!—back, lest I foretell the scaffold!”

The people had been drawing nearer and nearer, and drinking in the words of their champion, who spoke in accents long disused, like one unaccustomed to converse, except with the dead of many years ago. But his voice stirred their souls. They confronted the soldiers, not wholly without arms, and ready to convert the very stones of the street into deadly weapons. Sir Edmund Andros looked at the old man; then he cast his hard and cruel eye over the multitude, and beheld them burning with that [lurid wrath], so difficult to kindle or to quench; and again he fixed his gaze on the aged form, which stood obscurely in an open space, where neither friend nor foe had thrust himself. What were his thoughts, he uttered no word which might discover. But whether the oppressor were overawed by the Gray Champion’s look, or perceived his peril in the threatening attitude of the people, it is certain that he gave back, and ordered his soldiers to commence a slow and guarded retreat. Before another sunset, the Governor, and all that rode so proudly with him, were prisoners, and long ere it was known that James had abdicated, King William was proclaimed throughout New England.

But where was the Gray Champion? Some reported, that when the troops had gone from King Street, and the people were thronging tumultuously in their rear, Bradstreet, the aged Governor, was seen to embrace a form more aged than his own. Others soberly affirmed, that while they marveled at the venerable grandeur of his aspect, the old man had faded from their eyes, melting slowly into the hues of twilight, till, where he stood, there was an empty space. But all agreed that the hoary shape was gone. The men of that generation watched for his reappearance, in sunshine and in twilight, but never saw him more, nor knew when his funeral passed, nor where his gravestone was.

And who was the Gray Champion? Perhaps his name might be found in the records of that stern Court of Justice which passed a sentence, too mighty for the age, but glorious in all after times, for its humbling lesson to the monarch and its high example to the subject. I have heard, that whenever the descendants of the Puritans are to show the spirit of their sires, the old man appears again. When eighty years had passed, he walked once more in King Street. Five years later, in the twilight of an April morning, he stood on the green, beside the meeting-house, at Lexington, where now the [obelisk of granite], with a slab of slate inlaid, commemorates the first fallen of the Revolution. And when our fathers were toiling at the breastwork on Bunker’s Hill, all through that night the old warrior walked his rounds. Long, long may it be, ere he comes again! His hour is one of darkness, and adversity, and peril. But should domestic tyranny oppress us, or the invader’s step pollute our soil, still may the Gray Champion come, for he is the type of New England’s hereditary spirit, and his shadowy march, on the eve of danger, must ever be the pledge that New England’s sons will [vindicate their ancestry].

NOTES AND QUESTIONS

Historical Note. A tradition handed down from the time of King Philip’s war gave Hawthorne the suggestion for this story. In the attack made upon the village of Hadley, Massachusetts, by the Indians in 1675 a venerable man, of stately form, and with flowing white beard, suddenly appeared among the panic-stricken villagers, took command, and helped them put the savages to flight. Then he disappeared as suddenly as he had come. In their wonder, not knowing where he had come from or where he had gone, many believed he had been sent from Heaven to deliver them.

Their defender was William Goffe, who had been an officer in Cromwell’s army, and a member of the court which condemned Charles I to death. (Read the reference to this court in the story.) He was a Puritan, a man of deep religious feeling, whose acts had been governed by the desire to secure his countrymen their liberties. When Charles II succeeded to the English throne, Goffe fled to New England to escape his vengeance. Officers were sent across the ocean in pursuit of him. For this reason he lived in hiding, his name and identity being known only to friends who aided and protected him. He had many narrow escapes, but was never captured. From his hiding place he had seen the Indians stealing upon the people of Hadley and had gone forth to battle against them. After living in exile for the rest of his life, he died about 1679.

In this story Hawthorne altered facts to suit his purpose, making the Gray Champion appear at the time of the Boston Insurrection, in 1689. In this year James II, who had succeeded his brother, Charles II, was dethroned, and fled from his kingdom, and his son-in-law, William III, Prince of Orange, was made King of England.

The Gray Champion is made to typify the Spirit of Liberty—that spirit which animated Goffe as a Puritan soldier under Cromwell and which sent the Pilgrims and Puritans forth to find a home in the New World.

Discussion. 1. Read that part of the story which pictures the conditions of New England under Andros. 2. What were the wrongs under which the people suffered? 3. Did they submit willingly? 4. What rumor gave them hope of a return of “civil and religious rights”? 5. How did this rumor affect the Governor and his councilors? 6. Why was the Guard assembled? 7. What effect upon the people had its appearance at this time? 8. What does Hawthorne call this scene in the street? 9. What does he say is its “moral”? 10. Who came to have the advantage, the Governor and his soldiers, or the people? 11. Read all that accounts for the Champion and his sudden appearance. 12. What great cause did he come to champion? 13. What cause were Andros and his soldiers supporting? 14. Who was victorious? 15. Tell briefly the main incident. 16. Give your opinion as to Hawthorne’s purpose in writing this story.

Phrases

WARREN’S ADDRESS AT THE BATTLE OF BUNKER HILL

JOHN PIERPONT

Stand! the ground’s your own, my braves!

Will ye give it up to slaves?

Will ye look for [greener graves]?

Hope ye mercy still?

What’s the [mercy despots feel]?

Hear it in that [battle peal]!

Read it on yon [bristling steel]!

Ask it—ye who will.

Fear ye foes who kill for hire?

Will ye to your homes retire?

Look behind you! they’re afire!

And, before you, see

Who have done it!—From the vale

On they come!—and will ye quail?—

[Leaden rain] and [iron hail]

Let their welcome be!

In the God of battles trust!

Die we may—and die we must;

But, O where can dust to dust

Be consigned so well,

As where heaven its dews shall shed,

On the martyred patriot’s bed,

And the rocks shall raise their head,

Of his deeds to tell?

NOTES AND QUESTIONS

Biography. John Pierpont (1785-1866) was a Unitarian clergyman of Connecticut and the author of several volumes of poetry.

Historical Note. General Joseph Warren was one of the generals in command of the patriot army at the Battle of Bunker Hill. His death in this battle, while a great loss to the American forces, inspired the army to heroic efforts. He is considered one of the bravest and most unselfish patriots of the Revolutionary War. Read what your history text says about him.

Discussion. 1. In this poem we have the poet’s idea of how General Warren inspired his men. 2. What do you think he did in reality? 3. Read the lines that are an answer to those who still hoped for mercy from the British. 4. What lines show the striking contrast between those who fight for hire and those who fight to protect their homes? 5. Which of the appeals in the first and second stanzas seems most forceful to you? 6. Where have you read of a hero who made an argument similar to the one made in the third stanza? 7. How does the Bunker Hill Monument fulfill the prophecy in the last lines of the poem? 8. Notice the interesting rime-scheme and point out how it increases the effectiveness of the poem.

Phrases

LIBERTY OR DEATH

PATRICK HENRY

Mr. President,—No man thinks more highly than I do of the patriotism, as well as abilities, of the very worthy gentlemen who have just addressed the House. But different men often see the same subject in different lights; and, therefore, I hope it will not be thought disrespectful to those gentlemen, if, entertaining, as I do, opinions of a character very opposite to theirs, I shall speak forth my sentiments freely and without reserve. This is no time for ceremony. The question before the House is one [of awful moment] to this country. For my own part, I consider it as nothing less than a question of freedom or slavery; and in proportion to the magnitude of the subject ought to be the freedom of the debate. It is only in this way that we can hope to arrive at truth, and fulfill the great responsibility which we hold to God and our country. Should I keep back my opinions at such a time, through fear of giving offense, I should consider myself as guilty of treason toward my country, and of an act of disloyalty toward the Majesty of Heaven, which I revere above all earthly kings.

Mr. President, it is natural to man to indulge in the [illusions of hope]. We are apt to shut our eyes against a painful truth, and listen to the song of that siren till she transforms us into beasts. Is this the part of wise men, engaged in a great and [arduous struggle] for liberty? Are we disposed to be of the number of those who, having eyes, see not, and having ears, hear not, the things which so nearly concern their [temporal salvation]? For my part, whatever [anguish of spirit] it may cost, I am willing to know the whole truth; to know the worst, and to provide for it.

I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided; and that is the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging of the future but by the past. And judging by the past, I wish to know what there has been in the conduct of the British Ministry for the last ten years to justify those hopes with which gentlemen have been pleased to solace themselves and the House? Is it that [insidious smile] with which our petition has been lately received? Trust it not, sir; it will prove a snare to your feet. Suffer not yourselves to be betrayed with a kiss. Ask yourselves how this gracious reception of our petition comports with those warlike preparations which cover our waters and darken our land. Are fleets and armies necessary to a work of love and reconciliation? Have we shown ourselves so unwilling to be reconciled that force must be called in to win back our love? Let us not deceive ourselves, sir. These are the [implements of war] and subjugation—the last arguments to which kings resort. I ask, sir, what means this [martial array], if its purpose be not to force us to submission? Can gentlemen assign any other possible motive for it? Has Great Britain any enemy, in this quarter of the world, to call for all this accumulation of navies and armies? No, sir, she has none. They are meant for us; they can be meant for no other. They are sent over to bind and rivet upon us those chains which the British Ministry have been so long forging. And what have we to oppose to them? Shall we try argument? Sir, we have been trying that for the last ten years. Have we anything new to offer upon the subject? Nothing. We have held the subject up in every light of which it is capable; but it has been all in vain. Shall we resort to entreaty and humble supplication? What terms shall we find, which have not been already exhausted? Let us not, I beseech you, sir, deceive ourselves longer. Sir, we have done everything that could be done to avert the storm which is now coming on. We have petitioned; we have remonstrated; we have supplicated; we have prostrated ourselves before the throne, and have implored its interposition to arrest the tyrannical hands of the Ministry and Parliament. Our petitions have been slighted; our remonstrances have produced additional violence and insult; our supplications have been disregarded; and we have been spurned, with contempt, from the foot of the throne! In vain, after these things, may we indulge the fond hope of peace and reconciliation. There is no longer any room for hope. If we wish to be free—if we mean to [preserve inviolate] those [inestimable privileges] for which we have been so long contending—if we mean not basely to abandon the noble struggle in which we have been so long engaged, and which we have pledged ourselves never to abandon, until the glorious object of our contest shall be attained—we must fight! I repeat it, sir, we must fight! An appeal to arms and to the God of Hosts is all that is left us!

They tell us, sir, that we are weak; unable to [cope with so formidable] an adversary. But when shall we be stronger? Will it be the next week, or the next year? Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and when a British guard shall be stationed in every house? Shall we gather strength by irresolution and inaction? Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance by lying [supinely on our backs] and hugging the [delusive phantom] of hope until our enemies shall have bound us hand and foot?

Sir, we are not weak, if we make a proper use of those means which the God of nature hath placed in our power. Three millions of people, armed in the holy cause of liberty, and in such a country as that which we possess, are invincible by any force which our enemy can send against us. Besides, sir, we shall not fight our battles alone. There is a just God who presides over the destinies of nations, and who will raise up friends to fight our battles for us. The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave. Besides, sir, we have no election. If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the contest. There is no retreat but in submission and slavery! Our chains are forged! Their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston! The war is inevitable—and let it come! I repeat it, sir, let it come!

It is in vain, sir, to [extenuate the matter]. Gentlemen may cry, Peace, peace!—but there is no peace. The war is actually begun! The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms! Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty or give me death!

NOTES AND QUESTIONS

Historical Note. Patrick Henry (1736-1799) delivered this speech at the Virginia Convention, March 28, 1775. For some years this fiery young orator had been active in Virginia in stirring up resistance to the tyrannical acts of the King. In 1774 the royal governor in that colony reported that every county was arming a company of men for the purpose of protecting their committees, which had been formed, as in the other colonies, to work out a plan of coöperation against the British government. In March, 1775, the second revolutionary convention of Virginia met at Richmond. A resolution was offered to put the colony into a state of defense. Some delegates objected to such radical action, and it is to these men that Henry addressed the opening sentences of his speech.

The resolution was adopted. The chief command of the Virginia forces was offered to Colonel Washington, who accepted with the words, “It is my full intention to devote my life and fortune to the cause in which we are engaged.”

Discussion. 1. From reading the first paragraph, what idea do you get of Patrick Henry as an opponent? 2. Do you think Patrick Henry expresses a truth for all time when he says, “In proportion to the magnitude of the subject ought to be the freedom of the debate”? 3. Find, in your history, the chief acts of the British Ministry for the ten years prior to 1775. 4. What are the arguments which Patrick Henry uses to convince the delegates of the need of immediate action? 5. What did the next gale sweeping from the north bring to their ears? 6. Notice Patrick Henry’s use of figurative language throughout this speech. 7. Pronounce the following: siren; illusion; arduous; solace; insidious; inestimable; formidable.

Phrases

GEORGE WASHINGTON TO HIS WIFE

Philadelphia, 18 June, 1775

My Dearest:

I am now set down to write to you on a subject which fills me with [inexpressible concern], and this concern is greatly aggravated and increased when I reflect upon the uneasiness I know it will give you. It has been determined in Congress that the whole army raised for the defense of the American cause shall be put under my care, and that it is necessary for me to proceed immediately to Boston to take upon me the command of it.

You may believe me, my dear Patsy, when I assure you, in the most solemn manner, that, so far from seeking this appointment, I have used every endeavor in my power to avoid it, not only from my unwillingness to part with you and the family, but from a [consciousness of its being a trust] [too great for my capacity], and that I should enjoy more real happiness in one month with you at home, than I have the most [distant prospect] of finding abroad, if my stay were to be seven times seven years. But as it has been a kind of destiny that has thrown me upon this service, I shall hope that my undertaking it is designed to answer some good purpose. You might, and I suppose did [perceive, from the tenor] of my letters, that I was apprehensive I could not avoid this appointment, as I did not pretend to intimate when I should return. That was the case. It was utterly out of my power to refuse this appointment, without [exposing my character to such censures] as would have reflected dishonor upon myself and given pain to my friends. This, I am sure, could not, and ought not, to be pleasing to you, and must have lessened me considerably in my own esteem. I shall rely, therefore, confidently on that Providence which has heretofore preserved and been bountiful to me, not doubting but that I shall return safe to you in the fall. I shall feel no pain from the toil or the danger of the campaign; my unhappiness will flow from the uneasiness I know you will feel from being left alone. I therefore beg that you will [summon your whole fortitude] and pass your time as agreeably as possible. Nothing will give me so much sincere satisfaction as to hear this, and to hear it from your own pen. My earnest and [ardent desire] is that you would pursue any plan that is most likely to produce content and a [tolerable degree of tranquillity]; as it must add greatly to my uneasy feelings to hear that you are dissatisfied or complaining at what I really could not avoid.

As life is always uncertain and common [prudence dictates] to every man the necessity of settling his [temporal concerns] while it is in his power, and while the mind is calm and undisturbed, I have, since I came to this place (for I had not time to do it before I left home), got Colonel Pendleton to draft a will for me, by the directions I gave him, which will I now enclose. The provision made for you in case of my death will, I hope, be agreeable.

I shall add nothing more, as I have several letters to write, but to desire that you will remember me to your friends, and to assure you that I am with the most [unfeigned regard], my dear Patsy, your affectionate, &c.

NOTES AND QUESTIONS

Historical Note. George Washington (1732-1799) came from Virginia to attend the second meeting of the Continental Congress held in Philadelphia May 10, 1775. He was at that time commander of the militia of Virginia and sat in Congress in his colonel’s uniform. In the name of “The United Colonies” the Congress voted to authorize the enlistment of troops, to build and garrison forts, and to issue notes to the amount of three million dollars, the original “Liberty Loan” in America. There was an army of about ten thousand men encamped around Boston and these Congress adopted as “The Continental Army.” John Adams rose in his place and proposed the name of the Virginian, George Washington, to be commander-in-chief of this New England army. “The gentleman,” he said, “is among us and is very well known to us all; a gentleman whose skill and experience as an officer, whose independent fortune, great talents, and excellent universal character would command the approbation of all America, and unite the cordial exertions of all the colonies better than any other person in the Union.” The pay of the commander-in-chief was fixed at five hundred dollars a month and on June 15 Washington received the unanimous vote for this all-important office. His lofty stature, exceeding six feet, his grave and handsome face, his noble bearing and courtly grace of manner all proclaimed him worthy of the honor. In a brief speech expressive of his high sense of the honor conferred upon him, he said, “I beg it may be remembered by every gentleman in this room, that I this day declare, with the utmost sincerity, that I do not think myself equal to the command I am honored with. As to pay, I beg leave to assure the Congress that, as no pecuniary consideration could have tempted me to accept this arduous employment, at the expense of my domestic ease and happiness, I do not wish to make any profit of it. I will keep an exact account of my expenses. Those, I doubt not, they will discharge; and that is all I desire.”

As there was no time for a visit to his home, Mt. Vernon, on the Potomac River, Washington was obliged to give his wife this important information by letter. (In 1759 Washington had married Mrs. Martha Custis, the widow of one of the wealthiest planters in the Virginia Colony. She had two beautiful children at the time of her marriage, but when Washington went north to Philadelphia Mrs. Washington was quite alone, for her son was away from home and her daughter had died a few years before.) Later in the year Mrs. Washington went north and spent the winter with her husband at Craigie house, the army headquarters in Cambridge.

Discussion. 1. Name the fine qualities of Washington shown in this letter. 2. Read the sentence that tells briefly what has happened. 3. What do you imagine was Mrs. Washington’s reply to this letter?

Phrases

GEORGE WASHINGTON TO GOVERNOR GEORGE CLINTON

Valley Forge, 16 February, 1778

Dear Sir:

It is with great reluctance I trouble you on a subject which does not properly [fall within your province]; but it is a subject that occasions me more distress than I have felt since the commencement of the war; and which loudly demands the most [zealous exertions] of every person of weight and authority, who is interested in the success of our affairs; I mean the present dreadful situation of the army, for want of provision, and the miserable prospects before us, with [respect to futurity]. It is more alarming than you will probably conceive; for, to form a just idea of it, it were necessary to be on the spot. For some days past, there has been little less than a famine in camp. A part of the army has been a week without any kind of flesh, and the rest three or four days. Naked and starving as they are, we cannot enough admire the [incomparable patience] and fidelity of the soldiery, that they have not been, ere this, [excited by their suffering to a general mutiny and dispersion]. Strong [symptoms, however, of discontent] have appeared in particular instances; and nothing but the most active efforts, everywhere, can long [avert so shocking a catastrophe].

Our present sufferings are not all. There is no foundation laid for any [adequate relief hereafter]. All [the magazines provided] in the States of New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Delaware, and Maryland, and all the immediate additional supplies they seem capable of affording, will not be sufficient to support the army more than a month longer, if so long. Very little has been done at the eastward, and as little to the southward; and whatever we have a right to expect from those quarters must necessarily be very remote, and is, indeed, more precarious than could be wished. When the before-mentioned supplies are exhausted, what a terrible [crisis must ensue], unless all the energy of the Continent shall be exerted to provide a timely remedy!

I am etc.

NOTES AND QUESTIONS

Historical Note. This letter was addressed to George Clinton, governor of New York from 1777-1795. Washington appealed to Clinton because of the abilities and resources of New York and also because the governor’s zeal as a patriot was well known. At the same time Washington addressed a similar letter to the inhabitants of New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Delaware, Maryland, and Virginia, urging the farmers to provide cattle for the use of the army. He assures them of a bountiful price as well as the knowledge that they have rendered most essential service to the illustrious cause of their country.

Discussion. 1. Read in your history text what is said about the winter of 1777-1778 at Valley Forge. 2. How do the methods of conserving food for the army in Washington’s time compare with those of our own time? 3. How does Washington hope to avert a terrible crisis? 4. Pronounce the following: incomparable; catastrophe; adequate; precarious.

Phrases

SONG OF MARION’S MEN

WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT

Our band is few, but [true and tried],

Our leader frank and bold;

The British soldier trembles

When Marion’s name is told.

Our fortress is the good greenwood,

[Our tent the cypress-tree];

We know the forest round us,

As seamen know the sea.

We know its [walls of thorny vines],

Its [glades of reedy grass],

Its safe and silent islands

Within the [dark morass].

Woe to the English soldiery

That little dread us near!

On them shall light at midnight

A strange and sudden fear;

When waking to their tents on fire

They grasp their arms in vain,

And they who stand to face us

Are beat to earth again;

And they who fly in terror deem

A mighty host behind,

And hear the tramp of thousands

Upon the [hollow wind].

Then sweet the [hour that brings release]

From danger and from toil;

We talk the battle over,

And share the [battle’s spoil].

The woodland rings with laugh and shout,

[As if a hunt were up],

And woodland flowers are gathered

To crown the soldier’s cup.

With merry songs we mock the wind

That in the pine-top grieves,

And slumber long and sweetly,

On beds of oaken leaves.

Well knows the fair and friendly moon

The band that Marion leads—

The glitter of their rifles,

The scampering of their steeds.

’Tis life our [fiery barbs] to guide

Across the moonlight plains;

’Tis life to feel the night-wind

That lifts their tossing manes.

A moment in the British camp—

A moment—and away

Back to the pathless forest,

Before the peep of day.

Grave men there are by [broad Santee],

Grave men with hoary hairs,

Their hearts are all with Marion,

For Marion are their prayers.

And lovely ladies greet our band,

With kindliest welcoming,

With [smiles like those of summer],

And tears like those of spring.

For them we wear these trusty arms,

And lay them down no more

Till we have driven the Briton,

Forever, from our shore.

NOTES AND QUESTIONS

For Biography, [see page 41].

Historical Note. General Francis Marion was a general of the Revolutionary period. He was a leader of a band of men who worried the victorious British troops in the Carolinas in 1780 and 1781 and assisted in driving Cornwallis north, where he surrendered at Yorktown in 1781. Marion and his men in their greenwood fortress remind us of Robin Hood and his merry men.

Discussion. 1. Who is speaking in this poem? 2. What does the word “band” tell you about these men? 3. How do seamen know their way when on the ocean? 4. How do woodsmen know their way in the forest? 5. Read the lines that picture a southern forest. 6. What does the second stanza tell you of Marion’s method of attack? 7. Notice in the third stanza how the men spend their leisure time. 8. When did these hours of release occur? 9. Why is the moon called friendly? 10. Which lines show their quickness of movement? 11. For whom are these men fighting?

Phrases

TIMES THAT TRY MEN’S SOULS

THOMAS PAINE

These are the times that try men’s souls. The [summer soldier] and the [sunshine patriot] will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of his country; but he that stands it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly; ’tis dearness only that gives everything its value. Heaven knows how to put a proper price upon its goods; it would be strange indeed, if so [celestial an article] as freedom should not be highly rated. Britain, with an army to enforce her tyranny, has declared that she has a right, not only to tax, but to “bind us in all cases whatsoever,” and if being bound in that manner is not slavery, then is there not such a thing as slavery upon earth. Even the [expression is impious], for so unlimited a power can belong only to God.

I have as little superstition in me as any man living, but my secret opinion has been, and still is, that God Almighty will not give up a people to military destruction, or leave them [unsupportedly to perish], who have so earnestly and so repeatedly sought to avoid the [calamities of war], by every decent method which wisdom could invent.

I once felt all that kind of anger, which a man ought to feel, against the mean principles that are held by the tories: a noted one, who kept a tavern at Amboy, was standing at his door, with as pretty a child in his hand, about eight or nine years old, as I ever saw, and after speaking his mind as freely as he thought was prudent, finished with this unfatherly expression, “Well! give me peace in my day.” Not a man lives on the continent but fully believes that a separation must some time or other finally take place, and a generous parent should have said, “If there must be trouble, let it be in my day, that my child may have peace”; and his [single reflection], well applied, is sufficient to awaken every man to duty. Not a place upon earth might be so happy as America. Her situation is remote from all the wrangling world, and she has nothing to do but to trade with them. A man can distinguish in himself between temper and principle, and I am as confident, as I am that God governs the world, that America will never be happy till she gets clear of [foreign dominion]. Wars, without ceasing, will break out till that period arrives, and the continent must in the end be conqueror; for though the flame of liberty may sometimes cease to shine, the coal can never expire.

The heart that feels not now, is dead; the blood of his children will curse his cowardice, who shrinks back at a time when a little might have saved the whole, and made them happy. I love the man that can smile in trouble, that can gather strength from distress, and grow brave by reflection. ’Tis the business of little minds to shrink; but he whose heart is firm, and whose conscience approves his conduct, will [pursue his principles] unto death. My own line of reasoning is to myself as straight and clear as a ray of light. Not all the treasures of the world, so far as I believe, could have induced me to support an [offensive war], for I think it murder; but if a thief breaks into my house, burns and destroys my property, and kills or threatens to kill me, or those that are in it, and to “bind me in all cases whatsoever” to his absolute will, am I to suffer it? What signifies it to me, whether he who does it is a king or a common man; my countryman or not my countryman; whether it be done by an individual villain, or an army of them? If we reason to the root of things we shall find no difference; neither can any just cause be assigned why we should punish in the one case and pardon in the other.

NOTES AND QUESTIONS

Historical Note. Thomas Paine (1737-1809), an interesting figure of the Revolutionary period, did much by his writings to help win the war. Franklin on one occasion said, “Where liberty is, there is my home.” Whereupon Paine answered, “Where liberty is not, there is my home.” He came to America from England in 1774 and fought for America’s freedom as a volunteer under Washington. After the Revolution he went to France, where again he fought for liberty in the French Revolution.

This selection is from a pamphlet called “The Crisis,” published in 1776 by Paine. Washington had lost the battle of Long Island and had been compelled to retreat from New York toward Philadelphia. In Philadelphia there were many royalists who hoped that England would win the war. Washington’s soldiers, who had enlisted for short terms, were encouraged to desert or to resign at the end of their terms. The situation was serious.

Washington ordered that “The Crisis” be read before every company of soldiers in his army.

Discussion. 1. Select from these paragraphs sentences that would make good mottoes. 2. What political and military situation did Paine have in mind in the opening sentences? 3. What do you think of the argument of the tavern-keeper at Amboy as compared with Paine’s? 4. What do we think today of our “remoteness from the wrangling world”? 5. What, in the last one hundred years, has brought Europe and America closer together than they were in Paine’s day? 6. Under what conditions does Paine think war is justified?

Phrases

PART IV
LITERATURE AND LIFE IN THE HOMELAND

“One flag, one land, one heart, one hand,

One Nation evermore!”

—Oliver Wendell Holmes.

Copyright by M. G. Abbey (from a Copley Print, copyright by Curtis & Cameron, Boston)

PENN’S TREATY WITH THE INDIANS

LITERATURE AND LIFE IN THE HOMELAND
INTRODUCTION

It is a hard thing to picture to ourselves our Homeland. Is America just a lot of cities and towns and farms, or a collection of so many thousands of square miles of prairies and mountains, the sort of thing one would see from an airplane if one could get up high enough and had good enough eyes? Or is it a collection of states with queer boundary lines that look plainer on a map than they do when we cross them in the train? There are people who try to find America in some motto or symbol. One of our great cities has for its motto the words “I will,” and the people who live in that city like to think that the enterprise by which they build great industries and give work to great numbers of people is the expression of their Americanism. And some people see in the Statue of Liberty in the New York harbor, a statue holding aloft a blazing torch to give light to all people, the symbol that best expresses the spirit of America.

Both the motto and the statue help us to see our country as something more than a part of a book called “Geography” or “History.” Both of them express what America had always been to its citizens and what it became to the world in 1917. We did not desire to enter the war, but when it became necessary to do so no true American hesitated. There were great difficulties: an army to raise and equip and train so that it could meet an army that had been preparing for forty years to fight the world; an army to be transported over three thousand miles of water, a terrific task even in normal times, but made a hundred-fold harder because of the monsters that lurked under the sea waiting a chance to send a transport to the bottom. And once across, there were docks and railroads to be built and a great industrial organization to be set going. But the will of America was triumphant and the job was done. And the statue, like the “I will,” is a symbol of the spirit in America that has helped the spirit of liberty throughout the world, so that we now know the day is coming when all peoples, everywhere, shall be free. We can make a beginning, therefore, in our effort to form a picture of what America means, by thinking of this Statue of Liberty and of these words of high purpose, “I will.”

But we must fill in the picture. No statue will do, for it, after all, is lifeless. No motto will do, for it is only a phrase, an inscription. A photograph on which you have written a date or the record of a happy meeting with your friend, is very interesting indeed, and helps you to call to mind your friend. But in reality the photograph merely suggests to you your friend and your happy times together. Your friend has many moods, now sad, now gay. Your friend looks different at different times. The history of your friendship has many events in it, and all these go together, a thousand details, to make up your own idea “this is my friend.” So it is with America. History and legend, the knowledge of past events, must acquaint us with our country as with our friend. Infinite variety of mood she has, now stern and grave like her mountains, now placid like her vast expanse of prairie or her waving fields of grain; now laughing like the waters in the sunlight, or beautiful in anger as mighty storms sweep hill and plain. And infinite, again, are her activities—great factories and mills, lofty office buildings filled with workers, trains speeding like mighty shuttles through vast distances, farms filled with growing food for a world. All these you must bring into your picture, and more, for infinite, also, are the ideals and hopes that go to make up this many-sided personality that we name Our Country.

The selections that follow will help you to make this picture that is to be more to us than a statue or a photograph. Some of them are little views, snapshots of our nation’s childhood. Others are pictures of various moods or appearances of the later America. Some show the spirit of laughter in America; others give some of the songs of America; and at the end are a few pictures of America at work. All will help, but they are only an imperfect and brief introduction to a subject that is going to interest you all through your life: What is America to me, and what can I do to make her happy?