A Tale of Bunker's Hill.
Mr. Slick, like all his countrymen whom I have seen, felt that his
own existence was involved in that of the Constitution of the United
States, and that it was his duty to uphold it upon all occasions. He
affected to consider its government and its institutions as perfect,
and if any doubt was suggested as to the stability or character of
either, would make the common reply of all Americans, "I guess you
don't understand us," or else enter into a laboured defence. When
left, however, to the free expression of his own thoughts, he would
often give utterance to those apprehensions which most men feel in
the event of an experiment not yet fairly tried, and which has in
many parts evidently disappointed the sanguine hopes of its friends.
But, even on these occasions, when his vigilance seemed to slumber,
he would generally cover them, by giving them as the remarks of
others, or concealing them in a tale. It was this habit that gave his
discourse rather the appearance of "thinking aloud," than a connected
conversation.
"We are a great nation, Squire," he said, "that's sartain; but I'm
afeard we didn't altogether start right. It's in politics as in
racin', everything depends upon a fair start. If you are off too
quick, you have to pull up and turn back agin, and your beast gets
out of wind and is baffled, and if you lose in the start you hain't
got a fair chance arterwards, and are plaguy apt to be jockied in
the course. When we set up house-keepin', as it were for ourselves,
we hated our stepmother, Old England, so dreadful bad, we wouldn't
foller any of her ways of managin' at all, but made new receipts for
ourselves. Well, we missed it in many things most consumedly, somehow
or another. Did you ever see," said he, "a congregation split right
in two by a quarrel, and one part go off and set up for themselves?"
"I am sorry to say," said I, "that I have seen some melancholy
instances of the kind."
"Well, they shoot ahead, or drop astern, as the case may be, but they
soon get on another tack, and leave the old ship clean out of sight.
When folks once take to emigratin' in religion in this way, they
never know where to bide. First they try one location, and then they
try another; some settle here and some improve there, but they don't
hitch their horses together long. Some times they complain they HAVE
TOO LITTLE WATER, at other times that they HAVE TOO MUCH; they are
never satisfied, and, wherever these separatists go, they onsettle
others as bad as themselves. I NEVER LOOK ON A DESARTER AS ANY GREAT
SHAKES.
"My poor father used to say, 'Sam, mind what I tell you, if a man
don't agree in all particulars with his church, and can't go the
whole hog with 'em, he ain't justified on that account, no how, to
separate from them, for Sam, SCHISM IS A SIN IN THE EYE OF GOD. The
whole Christian world,' he would say, 'is divided into two great
families, the Catholic and Protestant. Well, the Catholic is a united
family, a happy family, and a strong family, all governed by one
head; and Sam, as sure as eggs is eggs, that 'ere family will grub
out t'other one, stalk, branch and root; it won't so much as leave
the seed of it in the ground, to grow by chance as a nateral
curiosity. Now the Protestant family is like a bundle of refuse
shingles, when withed up together (which it never was and never will
be to all etarnity), no great of a bundle arter all; you might take
it up under one arm, and walk off with it without winkin'. But, when
all lyin' loose as it always is, jist look at it, and see what a
sight it is, all blowin' about by every wind of doctrine, some away
up e'enamost out of sight, others rollin' over and over in the dirt,
some split to pieces, and others so warped by the weather and cracked
by the sun--no two of 'em will lie so as to make a close j'int. They
are all divided into sects, railin', quarrellin', separatin', and
agreein' in nothin', but hatin' each other. It is awful to think on.
T'other family will some day or other gather them all up, put them
into a bundle and bind them up tight, and condemn 'em as fit for
nothin' under the sun, but the fire. Now he who splits one of these
here sects by schism, or he who preaches schism, commits a grievous
sin; and Sam, if you vally your own peace of mind, have nothin' to do
with such folks.
"'It's pretty much the same in Politics. I ain't quite clear in my
conscience, Sam, about our glorious revolution. If that 'ere blood
was shed justly in the rebellion, then it was the Lord's doin',
but if unlawfully, how am I to answer for my share in it? I was at
Bunker's Hill (the most splendid battle it's generally allowed that
ever was fought); what effect my shots had, I can't tell, and I am
glad I can't, all except one, Sam, and that shot--' Here the old
gentleman became dreadful agitated, he shook like an ague fit, and
he walked up and down the room, and wrung his hands, and groaned
bitterly. 'I have wrastled with the Lord, Sam, and have prayed to
him to enlighten me on that p'int, and to wash out the stain of that
'ere blood from my hands. I never told you that 'ere story, nor your
mother neither, for she could not stand it, poor critter, she's
kinder narvous.
"'Well, Doctor Warren (the first soldier of his age, though he never
fought afore) commanded us all to resarve our fire till the British
came within p'int-blank shot, and we could cleverly see the whites
of their eyes, and we did so; and we mowed them down like grass, and
we repeated our fire with awful effect. I was among the last that
remained behind the breast-work, for most on 'em, arter the second
shot, cut and run full split. The British were close to us; and
an officer, with his sword drawn, was leading on his men, and
encouragin' them to the charge. I could see his features; he was a
real handsum man, I can see him now with his white breeches and black
gaiters, and red coat, and three-cornered cocked hat, as plain as if
it was yesterday, instead of the year '75. Well, I took a steady aim
at him and fired. He didn't move for a space, and I thought I had
missed him, when all of a sudden, he sprung right straight up an
eend, his sword slipped through his hands up to the p'int, and then
he fell flat on his face atop of the blade, and it came straight out
through his back. He was fairly skivered. I never seed anything so
awful since I was raised; I actilly screamed out with horror; and I
threw away my gun, and joined them that were retreatin' over the neck
to Charlestown. Sam, that 'ere British officer, if our rebellion was
onjust or onlawful, was murdered, that's a fact; and the idee, now I
am growin' old, haunts me day and night. Sometimes I begin with the
Stamp Act, and I go over all our grievances, one by one, and say
ain't they a sufficient justification? Well, it makes a long list,
and I get kinder satisfied, and it appears as clear as anything. But
sometimes there come doubts in my mind, jist like a guest that's not
invited or not expected, and takes you at a short like, and I say,
warn't the Stamp Act repealed, and concessions made, and warn't
offers sent to settle all fairly? and I get troubled and oneasy agin.
And then I say to myself, says I, oh yes, but them offers came too
late. I do nothin' now, when I am alone, but argue it over and over
agin. I actilly dream on that man in my sleep sometimes, and then I
see him as plain as if he was afore me, and I go over it all agin
till I come to that 'ere shot, and then I leap right up in bed and
scream like all vengeance, and your mother, poor old critter, says,
"Sam," says she, "what on airth ails you to make you act so like Old
Scratch in your sleep? I do believe there's somethin' or another on
your conscience." And I say, "Polly dear, I guess we're a-goin' to
have rain, for that plaguy cute rheumatis has seized my foot and it
does antagonize me so I have no peace. It always does so when it's
like for a change." "Dear heart," she says (the poor simple critter),
"then I guess I had better rub it, hadn't I, Sam?" and she crawls out
of bed and gets her red flannel petticoat, and rubs away at my foot
ever so long. Oh, Sam, if she could rub it out of my heart as easy as
she thinks she rubs it out of my foot, I should be in peace, that's a
fact.
"'What's done, Sam, can't be helped, there is no use in cryin' over
spilt milk, but still one can't help a-thinkin' on it. But I don't
love schisms and I don't love rebellion.
"'Our revolution has made us grow faster and grow richer; but Sam,
when we were younger and poorer, we were more pious and more happy.
We have nothin' fixed either in religion or politics. What connection
there ought to be atween Church and State, I am not availed, but some
there ought to be as sure as the Lord made Moses. Religion when left
to itself, as with us, grows too rank and luxuriant. Suckers and
sprouts, and intersecting shoots, and superfluous wood, make a
nice shady tree to look at, but where's the fruit, Sam? That's the
question--where's the fruit? No; the pride of human wisdom, and the
presumption it breeds will ruinate us. Jefferson was an infidel, and
avowed it, and gloried in it, and called it the enlightenment of the
age. Cambridge College is Unitarian, 'cause it looks wise to doubt,
and every drumstick of a boy ridicules the belief of his forefathers.
If our country is to be darkened by infidelity, our Government
defied by every State, and every State ruled by mobs--then, Sam, the
blood we shed in our revolution will be atoned for in the blood and
suffering of our fellow citizens. The murders of that civil war will
be expiated by a political suicide of the State.'
"I am somewhat of father's opinion," said the Clockmaker, "though I
don't go the whole figur' with him, but he needn't have made such an
everlastin' touss about fixin' that 'ere British officer's flint for
him, for he'd a died of himself by this time, I do suppose, if he had
a missed his shot at him. P'r'aps we might have done a little better,
and p'r'aps we mightn't, by stickin' a little closer to the old
constitution. But one thing I will say, I think arter all, your
Colony Government is about as happy and as a good a one as I know on.
A man's life and property are well protected here at little cost, and
he can go where he likes and do what he likes provided he don't
trespass on his neighbour.
"I guess that's enough for any on us, now ain't it?"