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 skilful 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 over-awed by red-coats, as it had been in the days of old Sir
Edmund 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 counsellors 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 snow-balling his windows. He fired a musket at them and killed a poor
German 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, to-morrow," 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 town’s-people 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!"