True Stories From History and Biography (16 page)

"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 the Third and his
counsellors 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 defence 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 three pence more than the actual value
of the paper. And this extra sum of three pence was a tax, and was to be
paid into the king's treasury."

"I am sure three pence was not worth quarrelling about!" remarked Clara.

"It was not for three pence, nor for any amount of money, that America
quarrelled 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 three pence 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 this tax of three pence, 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 every thing
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 an 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 the grievances of the colonists. They sent an 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 staid 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 small-clothes;
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 distributor 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 afterwards 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."

"Lieutenant-Governor Hutchinson," continued Grandfather, "now began to be
unquiet in our old chair. He had formerly been much respected and beloved
by the people, and had often proved himself a friend to their interests.
But the time was come, when he could not be a friend to the people,
without ceasing to be a friend to the king. It was pretty generally
understood, that Hutchinson would act according to the king's wishes,
right or wrong, like most of the other gentlemen who held offices under
the crown. Besides, as he was brother-in-law of Andrew Oliver, the people
now felt a particular dislike to him."

"I should think," said Laurence, "as Mr. Hutchinson had written the
history of our Puritan forefathers, he would have known what the temper of
the people was, and so have taken care not to wrong them."

"He trusted in the might of the king of England," replied Grandfather,
"and thought himself safe under the shelter of the throne. If no dispute
had arisen between the king and the people, Hutchinson would have had the
character of a wise, good, and patriotic magistrate. But, from the time
that he took part against the rights of his country, the people's love and
respect were turned to scorn and hatred; and he never had another hour of
peace."

In order to show what a fierce and dangerous spirit was now aroused among
the inhabitants, Grandfather related a passage from history, which we
shall call

On the evening of the twenty-sixth of August, 1765, a bonfire was kindled
in King Street. It flamed high upward, and threw a ruddy light over the
front of the town house, on which was displayed a carved representation of
the royal arms. The gilded vane of the cupola glittered in the blaze. The
kindling of this bonfire was the well known signal for the populace of
Boston to assemble in the street.

Before the tar-barrels, of which the bonfire was made, were half burnt
out, a great crowd had come together. They were chiefly laborers and
seafaring men, together with many young apprentices, and all those idle
people about town who are ready for any kind of mischief. Doubtless some
school-boys were among them.

While these rough figures stood round the blazing bonfire, you might hear
them speaking bitter words against the high officers of the province.
Governor Bernard, Hutchinson, Oliver, Storey, Hallowell, and other men
whom King George delighted to honor, were reviled as traitors to the
country. Now and then, perhaps, an officer of the crown passed along the
street, wearing the gold-laced hat, white wig, and embroidered waistcoat,
which were the fashion of the day. But, when the people beheld him, they
set up a wild and angry howl, and their faces had an evil aspect, which
was made more terrible by the flickering blaze of the bonfire.

"I should like to throw the traitor right into that blaze!" perhaps one
fierce rioter would say.

"Yes; and all his brethren too!" another might reply; "and the governor
and old Tommy Hutchinson into the hottest of it!"

"And the Earl of Bute along with them," muttered a third; "and burn the
whole pack of them under King George's nose! No matter if it singed him!"

Some such expressions as these, either shouted aloud, or muttered under
the breath, were doubtless heard in King Street. The mob, meanwhile, were
growing fiercer, and fiercer, and seemed ready even to set the town on
fire, for the sake of burning the king's friends out of house and home.
And yet, angry as they were, they sometimes broke into a loud roar of
laughter, as if mischief and destruction were their sport.

But we must now leave the rioters for a time, and take a peep into the
lieutenant-governor's splendid mansion. It was a large brick house,
decorated with Ionic pilasters, and stood in Garden Court Street, near the
North Square.

While the angry mob in King Street were shouting his name,
Lieutenant-Governor Hutchinson sat quietly in Grandfather's chair,
unsuspicious of the evil that was about to fall upon his head. His beloved
family were in the room with him. He had thrown off his embroidered coat
and powdered wig, and had on a loose flowing gown and purple velvet cap.
He had likewise laid aside the cares of state, and all the thoughts that
had wearied and perplexed him throughout the day.

Perhaps, in the enjoyment of his home, he had forgotten all about the
Stamp Act, and scarcely remembered that there was a king, across the
ocean, who had resolved to make tributaries of the New Englanders.
Possibly, too, he had forgotten his own ambition, and would not have
exchanged his situation, at that moment, to be governor, or even a lord.

The wax candles were now lighted, and showed a handsome room, well
provided with rich furniture. On the walls hung the pictures of
Hutchinson's ancestors, who had been eminent men in their day, and were
honorably remembered in the history of the country. Every object served to
mark the residence of a rich, aristocratic gentleman, who held himself
high above the common people, and could have nothing to fear from them. In
a corner of the room, thrown carelessly upon a chair, were the scarlet
robes of the chief justice. This high office, as well as those of
lieutenant-governor, counsellor, and judge of probate, was filled by
Hutchinson.

Who or what could disturb the domestic quiet of such a great and powerful
personage as now sat in Grandfather's chair.