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 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
over-ruling 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, afterwards 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
Barry, 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, Barre, or Fox.”
“But, Grandfather,” asked Lawrence, “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 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 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 Rev.
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 is 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 men arch 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.”