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 town's-people
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 any thing 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 fire-side 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 side-walks!" 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 fire-sides, 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 towards 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 comrade. At the same time, many of
the town's-people 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 snow-balls 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
town's-people with their bayonets.
A gentleman, (it was Henry Knox, afterwards
general of the American artillery,) caught Captain
Preston's arm.
"For Heaven's sake, sir," exclaimed he, take
heed what you do, or here 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 semi-circle, 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 levelled
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 have 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 town's-people and the soldiers would but have
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.
Chapter VI
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 fire-side; 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 an 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 skilful 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 sceptre 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 marvellous," 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 towards him, and 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
almost his dying words in defence 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 defence of the king's tyrannical proceedings,"
replied Grandfather. "But they had
the worst side of the argument, and therefore seldom
said any thing worth remembering. Moreover their
hearts were faint and feeble; for they felt that the
people scorned and detested them. They had no
friends, no defence, 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, every
thing, 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 the
Third. 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."
Chapter VII
"Our old chair," resumed Grandfather, "did not
now stand in the midst of a gay circle of British
officers. The troops, as I told you, had been removed
to Castle William, immediately after the Boston
Massacre. Still, however, there were many
tories, custom-house officers, and Englishmen, who
used to assemble in the British Coffee House, and
talk over the affairs of the period. Matters grew
worse and worse; and in 1773, the people did a
deed, which incensed the king and ministry more
than any of their former doings."
Grandfather here described the affair, which is
known by the name of the Boston Tea Party. The
Americans, for some time past, had left off importing
tea, on account of the oppressive tax. The East
India Company, in London, had a large stock of tea
on hand, which they had expected to sell to the
Americans, but could find no market for it. But,
after a while, the government persuaded this company
of merchants to send the tea to America.
"How odd it is," observed Clara, "that the liberties
of America should have had any thing to do
with a cup of tea!"
Grandfather smiled, and proceeded with his narrative.
When the people of Boston heard that
several cargoes of tea were coming across the Atlantic,
they held a great many meetings at Faneuil
Hall, in the Old South church, and under Liberty
Tree. In the midst of their debates, three ships
arrived in the harbor with the tea on board. The
people spent more than a fortnight in consulting
what should be done. At last, on the 16th of December,
1773, they demanded of Governor Hutchinson,
that he should immediately send the ships
back to England.
The governor replied that the ships must not leave
the harbor, until the custom-house duties upon the
tea should be paid. Now, the payment of these
duties was the very thing, against which the people
had set their faces; because it was a tax, unjustly
imposed upon America by the English government.
Therefore, in the dusk of the evening, as soon as
Governor Hutchinson's reply was received, an immense
crowd hastened to Griffin's Wharf, where the
tea-ships lay. The place is now called Liverpool
Wharf.
"When the crowd reached the wharf," said Grandfather,
"they saw that a set of wild-looking figures
were already on board of the ships. You would
have imagined that the Indian warriors, of old times,
had come back again; for they wore the Indian
dress, and had their faces covered with red and
black paint, like the Indians, when they go to war.
These grim figures hoisted the tea chests on the
decks of the vessels, broke them open, and threw all
the contents into the harbor."
"Grandfather," said little Alice, "I suppose Indians
don't love tea; else they would never waste
it so."
"They were not real Indians, my child," answered
Grandfather. "They were white men, in disguise;
because a heavy punishment would have been inflicted
on them, if the king's officers had found who they
were. But it was never known. From that day to
this, though the matter has been talked of by all the
world, nobody can tell the names of those Indian
figures. Some people say that there were very famous
men among them, who afterwards became governors
and generals. Whether this be true, I cannot tell."
When tidings of this bold deed were carried to
England, King George was greatly enraged. Parliament
immediately passed an act, by which all vessels
were forbidden to take in or discharge their cargoes at
the port of Boston. In this way, they expected to ruin
all the merchants, and starve the poor people, by
depriving them of employment. At the same time,
another act was passed, taking away many rights
and privileges which had been granted in the charter
of Massachusetts.
Governor Hutchinson, soon afterward, was summoned
to England, in order that he might give his
advice about the management of American affairs.
General Gage, an officer of the Old French War,
and since commander-in-chief of the British forces in
America, was appointed governor in his stead. One
of his first acts, was to make Salem, instead of Boston,
the metropolis of Massachusetts, by summoning
the General Court to meet there.
According to Grandfather's description, this was
the most gloomy time that Massachusetts had ever
seen. The people groaned under as heavy a tyranny
as in the days of Sir Edmund Andros. Boston
looked as if it were afflicted with some dreadful
pestilence,—so sad were the inhabitants, and so
desolate the streets. There was no cheerful hum of
business. The merchants shut up their warehouses,
and the laboring men stood idle about the wharves.
But all America felt interested in the good town of
Boston; and contributions were raised, in many
places, for the relief of the poor inhabitants.
"Our dear old chair!" exclaimed Clara. "How
dismal it must have been now!"
"Oh," replied Grandfather, "a gay throng of
officers had now come back to the British Coffee
House; so that the old chair had no lack of mirthful
company. Soon after General Gage became governor,
a great many troops had arrived, and were
encamped upon the Common. Boston was now a
garrisoned and fortified town; for the general had
built a battery across the neck, on the road to Roxbury,
and placed guards for its defence. Every
thing looked as if a civil war were close at hand."
"Did the people make ready to fight?" asked
Charley.
"A continental Congress assembled at Philadelphia,"
said Grandfather, "and proposed such measures
as they thought most conducive to the public
good. A provincial Congress was likewise chosen in
Massachusetts. They exhorted the people to arm
and discipline themselves. A great number of
minute men were enrolled. The Americans called
them minute men, because they engaged to be ready
to fight at a minute's warning. The English officers
laughed, and said that the name was a very proper
one, because the minute men would run away the
the minute they saw the enemy. Whether they
would fight or run, was soon to be proved."
Grandfather told the children, that the first open
resistance offered to the British troops, in the province
of Massachusetts was at Salem. Colonel Timothy
Pickering, with thirty or forty militia men, prevented
the English colonel, Leslie, with four times as many
regular soldiers, from taking possession of some military
stores. No blood was shed on this occasion;
but, soon afterward, it began to flow.
General Gage sent eight hundred soldiers to
Concord, about eighteen miles from Boston, to
destroy some ammunition and provisions which the
colonists had collected there. They set out on their
march in the evening of the 18th of April, 1775.
The next morning, the General sent Lord Percy,
with nine hundred men, to strengthen the troops
which had gone before. All that day, the inhabitants
of Boston heard various rumors. Some said,
that the British were making great slaughter among
our countrymen. Others affirmed that every man
had turned out with his musket, and that not a single
soldier would ever get back to Boston.
"It was after sunset," continued Grandfather,
"when the troops, who had marched forth so proudly,
were seen entering Charlestown. They were
covered with dust, and so hot and weary that their
tongues hung out of their mouths. Many of them
were faint with wounds. They had not all returned.
Nearly three hundred were strewn, dead or dying,
along the road from Concord. The yeomanry had
risen upon the invaders, and driven them back."
"Was this the battle of Lexington?" asked Charley.
"Yes," replied Grandfather; "it was so called,
because the British, without provocation, had fired
upon a party of minute men, near Lexington meeting-house,
and killed eight of them. That fatal volley,
which was fired by order of Major Pitcairn,
began the war of the Revolution."
About this time, if Grandfather had been correctly
informed, our chair disappeared from the
British Coffee House. The manner of its departure
cannot be satisfactorily ascertained. Perhaps the
keeper of the Coffee House turned it out of doors,
on account of its old-fashioned aspect. Perhaps he
sold it as a curiosity. Perhaps it was taken, without
leave, by some person who regarded it as public
property, because it had once figured under Liberty
Tree. Or, perhaps, the old chair, being of a
peaceable disposition, had made use of its four
oaken legs, and run away from the seat of war.
"It would have made a terrible clattering over
the pavement," said Charley, laughing.
"Meanwhile," continued Grandfather, "during
the mysterious non-appearance of our chair, an
army of twenty thousand men had started up, and
come to the siege of Boston. General Gage and
his troops were cooped up within the narrow precincts
of the peninsula. On the 17th of June,
1775, the famous battle of Bunker Hill was fought.
Here General Warren fell. The British got the
victory, indeed, but with the loss of more than a
thousand officers and men."
"O, Grandfather," cried Charley, "you must
tell us about that famous battle."
"No, Charley," said Grandfather, "I am not
like other historians. Battles shall not hold a prominent
place in the history of our quiet and comfortable
old chair. But, to-morrow evening, Laurence,
Clara, and yourself, and dear little Alice too, shall
visit the Diorama of Bunker Hill. There you shall
see the whole business, the burning of Charlestown
and all, with your own eyes, and hear the cannon
and musketry with your own ears."
Chapter VIII
The next evening but one, when the children had
given Grandfather a full account of the Diorama of
Bunker Hill, they entreated him not to keep them
any longer in suspense about the fate of his chair.
The reader will recollect, that at the last accounts,
it had trotted away upon its poor old legs, nobody
knew whither. But, before gratifying their
curiosity, Grandfather found it necessary to say
something about public events.
The continental Congress, which was assembled
at Philadelphia, was composed of delegates from all
the colonies. They had now appointed George
Washington, of Virginia, to be commander-in-chief
of all the American armies. He was, at that time,
a member of Congress, but immediately left Philadelphia,
and began his journey to Massachusetts.
On the 3d of July, 1775, he arrived at Cambridge,
and took command of the troops which were besieging
General Gage.
"O, Grandfather," exclaimed Laurence, "it
makes my heart throb to think what is coming now.
We are to see General Washington himself."
The children crowded around Grandfather, and
looked earnestly into his face. Even little Alice
opened her sweet blue eyes, with her lips apart,
and almost held her breath to listen; so instinctive
is the reverence of childhood for the father of his
country. Grandfather paused a moment; for he
felt as if it might be irreverent to introduce the hallowed
shade of Washington into a history, where an
ancient elbow chair occupied the most prominent
place. However, he determined to proceed with
his narrative, and speak of the hero when it was
needful, but with an unambitious simplicity.
So Grandfather told his auditors, that, on General
Washington's arrival at Cambridge, his first
care was, to reconnoitre the British troops with his
spy-glass, and to examine the condition of his own
army. He found that the American troops amounted
to about fourteen thousand men. They were
extended all round the peninsula of Boston, a space
of twelve miles, from the high grounds of Roxbury
on the right, to Mystic river on the left. Some
were living in tents of sail-cloth, some in shanties,
rudely constructed of boards, some in huts of stone
or turf, with curious windows and doors of basket-work.
In order to be near the centre, and oversee the
whole of this wide-stretched army, the commander-in-chief
made his head-quarters at Cambridge, about
half a mile from the colleges. A mansion-house,
which perhaps had been the country-seat of some
tory gentleman, was provided for his residence.
"When General Washington first entered this
mansion," said Grandfather, "he was ushered up
the stair-case, and shown into a handsome apartment.
He sat down in a large chair, which was
the most conspicuous object in the room. The noble
figure of Washington would have done honor to a
throne. As he sat there, with his hand resting on
the hilt of his sheathed sword, which was placed
between his knees, his whole aspect well befitted
the chosen man on whom his country leaned for the
defence of her dearest rights. America seemed
safe, under his protection. His face was grander
than any sculptor had ever wrought in marble;
none could behold him without awe and reverence.
Never before had the lion's head, at the summit of
the chair, looked down upon such a face and form
as Washington's!"
"Why! Grandfather," cried Clara, clasping her
hands in amazement, "was it really so? Did General
Washington sit in our great chair?"
"I knew how it would be," said Laurence;
"I foresaw it, the moment Grandfather began to
speak."
Grandfather smiled. But, turning from the personal
and domestic life of the illustrious leader, he
spoke of the methods which Washington adopted to
win back the metropolis of New England from the
British.
The army, when he took command of it, was
without any discipline or order. The privates considered
themselves as good as their officers, and seldom
thought it necessary to obey their commands,
unless they understood the why and wherefore.
Moreover, they were enlisted for so short a period,
that, as soon as they began to be respectable soldiers,
it was time to discharge them. Then came
new recruits, who had to be taught their duty,
before they could be of any service. Such was the
army, with which Washington had to contend
against more than twenty veteran British regiments.
Some of the men had no muskets, and almost all
were without bayonets. Heavy cannon, for battering
the British fortifications, were much wanted.
There was but a small quantity of powder and ball,
few tools to build entrenchments with, and a great
deficiency of provisions and clothes for the soldiers.
Yet, in spite of these perplexing difficulties, the
eyes of the whole people were fixed on General
Washington, expecting him to undertake some great
enterprise against the hostile army.
The first thing that he found necessary, was to
bring his own men into better order and discipline.
It is wonderful how soon he transformed this rough
mob of country people into the semblance of a regular
army. One of Washington's most invaluable
characteristics, was the faculty of bringing order
out of confusion. All business, with which he had
any concern, seemed to regulate itself, as if by
magic. The influence of his mind was like light,
gleaming through an unshaped world. It was this
faculty, more than any other, that made him so fit
to ride upon the storm of the Revolution, when
every thing was unfixed, and drifting about in a
troubled sea.
"Washington had not been long at the head of
the army," proceeded Grandfather, "before his
soldiers thought as highly of him, as if he had led
them to a hundred victories. They knew that he
was the very man whom the country needed, and
the only one who could bring them safely through
the great contest against the might of England.
They put entire confidence in his courage, wisdom,
and integrity."
"And were not they eager to follow him against
the British?" asked Charley.
"Doubtless they would have gone whithersoever
his sword pointed the way," answered Grandfather;
"and Washington was anxious to make a decisive
assault upon the enemy. But as the enterprise was
very hazardous, he called a council of all the generals
in the army. Accordingly, they came from
their different posts, and were ushered into the
reception room. The commander-in-chief arose from
our great chair to greet them."
"What were their names?" asked Charley.
"There was General Artemas Ward," replied
Grandfather, a "lawyer by profession. He had
commanded the troops before Washington's arrival.
Another was General Charles Lee, who had been a
colonel in the English army, and was thought to possess
vast military science. He came to the council,
followed by two or three dogs, who were always at
his heels. There was General Putnam, too, who
was known all over New England by the name of
Old Put."
"Was it he who killed the wolf?" inquired
Charley.
