True Stories From History and Biography (12 page)

"And how did the gentlemen dress?" asked Charley.

"With full as much magnificence as the ladies," answered Grandfather. "For
their holiday suits, they had coats of figured velvet, crimson, green,
blue, and all other gay colors, embroidered with gold or silver lace.
Their waistcoats, which were five times as large as modern ones, were very
splendid. Sometimes, the whole waistcoat, which came down almost to the
knees, was made of gold brocade."

"Why, the wearer must have shone like a golden image!" said Clara.

"And, then," continued Grandfather, "they wore various sorts of periwigs,
such as the Tie, the Spencer, the Brigadier, the Major, the Albemarle, the
Ramilies, the Feather-top, and the Full-bottom! Their three-cornered hats
were laced with gold or silver. They had shining buckles at the knees of
their small clothes, and buckles likewise in their shoes. They wore
swords, with beautiful hilts, either of silver, or sometimes of polished
steel, inlaid with gold."

"Oh, I should like to wear a sword!" cried Charley.

"And an embroidered crimson velvet coat," said Clara, laughing, "and a
gold brocade waistcoat down to your knees!"

"And knee-buckles and shoe-buckles," said Laurence, laughing also.

"And a periwig," added little Alice, soberly, not knowing what was the
article of dress, which she recommended to our friend Charley.

Grandfather smiled at the idea of Charley's sturdy little figure in such a
grotesque caparison. He then went on with the history of the chair, and
told the children, that, in 1730, King George the Second appointed
Jonathan Belcher to be governor of Massachusetts, in place of the deceased
Governor Burnet. Mr. Belcher was a native of the province, but had spent
much of his life in Europe.

The new governor found Grandfather's chair in the Province House, he was
struck with its noble and stately aspect, but was of opinion, that age and
hard services had made it scarcely so fit for courtly company, as when it
stood in the Earl of Lincoln's hall. Wherefore, as Governor Belcher was
fond of splendor, he employed a skilful artist to beautify the chair. This
was done by polishing and varnishing it, and by gilding the carved work of
the elbows, and likewise the oaken flowers of the back. The lion's head
now shone like a veritable lump of gold. Finally, Governor Belcher gave
the chair a cushion of blue damask, with a rich golden fringe.

"Our good old chair being thus glorified," proceeded Grandfather, "it
glittered with a great deal more splendor than it had exhibited just a
century before, when the Lady Arbella brought it over from England. Most
people mistook it for a chair of the latest London fashion. And this may
serve for an example, that there is almost always an old and time-worn
substance under all the glittering show of new invention."

"Grandfather, I cannot see any of the gilding," remarked Charley, who had
been examining the chair very minutely.

"You will not wonder that it has been rubbed off," replied Grandfather,
"when you hear all the adventures that have since befallen the chair.
Gilded it was; and the handsomest room in the Province House was adorned
by it."

There was not much to interest the children, in what happened during the
years that Governor Belcher remained in the chair. At first, like Colonel
Shute and Governor Burnet, he was engaged in disputing with the
legislature about his salary. But, as he found it impossible to get a
fixed sum, he finally obtained the king's leave to accept whatever the
legislature chose to give him. And thus the people triumphed, after this
long contest for the privilege of expending their own money as they saw
fit.

The remainder of Governor Belcher's term of office was principally taken
up in endeavoring to settle the currency. Honest John Hull's pine-tree
shillings had long ago been worn out, or lost, or melted down again, and
their place was supplied by bills of paper or parchment, which were
nominally valued at three pence and upwards. The value of these bills kept
continually sinking, because the real hard money could not be obtained for
them. They were a great deal worse than the old Indian currency of
clam-shells. These disorders of the circulating medium were a source of
endless plague and perplexity to the rulers and legislators, not only in
Governor Belcher's days, but for many years before and afterwards.

Finally, the people suspected that Governor Belcher was secretly
endeavoring to establish the Episcopal mode of worship in the provinces.
There was enough of the old Puritan spirit remaining, to cause most of the
true sons of New England to look with horror upon such an attempt. Great
exertions were made, to induce the king to remove the governor.
Accordingly, in 1740, he was compelled to resign his office, and
Grandfather's chair into the bargain, to Mr. Shirley.

"William Shirley," said Grandfather, "had come from England a few years
before, and begun to practise law in Boston. You will think, perhaps,
that, as he had been a lawyer, the new governor used to sit in our great
chair, reading heavy law-books from morning till night. On the contrary,
he was as stirring and active a governor as Massachusetts ever had. Even
Sir William Phips hardly equalled him. The first year or two of his
administration was spent in trying to regulate the currency. But, in 1744,
after a peace of more than thirty years, war broke out between France and
England."

"And I suppose," said Charley, "the governor went to take Canada."

"Not exactly, Charley," said Grandfather, "though you have made a pretty
shrewd conjecture. He planned, in 1745, an expedition against Louisbourg.
This was a fortified city, on the Island of Cape Breton, near Nova Scotia.
Its walls were of immense height and strength, and were defended by
hundreds of heavy cannon. It was the strongest fortress which the French
possessed in America; and if the king of France had guessed Governor
Shirley's intentions, he would have sent all the ships he could muster, to
protect it."

As the siege of Louisbourg was one of the most remarkable events that ever
the inhabitants of New England were engaged in, Grandfather endeavored to
give his auditors a lively idea of the spirit with which they set about
it. We shall call his description

The expedition against Louisbourg first began to be thought of in the
month of January. From that time, the governor's chair was continually
surrounded by counsellors, representatives, clergymen, captains, pilots,
and all manner of people, with whom he consulted about this wonderful
project.

First of all, it was necessary to provide men and arms. The legislature
immediately sent out a huge quantity of paper money, with which, as if by
magic spell, the governor hoped to get possession of all the old cannon,
powder and balls, rusty swords and muskets, and every thing else that
would be serviceable in killing Frenchmen. Drums were beaten in all the
villages of Massachusetts, to enlist soldiers for the service. Messages
were sent to the other governors of New England, and to New York and
Pennsylvania, entreating them to unite in this crusade against the French.
All these provinces agreed to give what assistance they could.

But there was one very important thing to be decided. Who shall be the
General of this great army? Peace had continued such an unusual length of
time, that there was now less military experience among the colonists,
than at any former period. The old Puritans had always kept their weapons
bright, and were never destitute of warlike captains, who were skilful in
assault or defence. But the swords of their descendants had grown rusty by
disuse. There was nobody in New England that knew any thing about sieges,
or any other regular fighting. The only persons, at all acquainted with
warlike business, were a few elderly men, who had hunted Indians through
the underbrush of the forest, in old Governor Dummer's war.

In this dilemma, Governor Shirley fixed upon a wealthy merchant, named
William Pepperell, who was pretty well known and liked among the people.
As to military skill, he had no more of it than his neighbors. But, as the
governor urged him very pressingly, Mr. Pepperell consented to shut up his
leger, gird on a sword, and assume the title of General.

Meantime, what a hubbub was raised by this scheme! Rub-a-dub-dub!
Rub-a-dub-dub! The rattle of drums, beaten out of all manner of time, was
heard above every other sound.

Nothing now was so valuable as arms, of whatever style and fashion they
might be. The bellows blew, and the hammer clanged continually upon the
anvil, while the blacksmiths were repairing the broken weapons of other
wars. Doubtless, some of the soldiers lugged out those enormous, heavy
muskets, which used to be fired with rests, in the time of the early
Puritans. Great horse-pistols, too, were found, which would go off with a
bang like a cannon. Old cannon, with touch-holes almost as big as their
muzzles, were looked upon as inestimable treasures. Pikes, which perhaps,
had been handled by Miles Standish's soldiers, now made their appearance
again. Many a young man ransacked the garret, and brought forth his
great-grandfather's sword, corroded with rust, and stained with the blood
of King Philip's war.

Never had there been seen such an arming as this, when a people, so long
peaceful, rose to the war, with the best weapons that they could lay their
hands upon. And still the drums were heard—Rub-a-dub-dub!
Rub-a-dub-dub!—in all the towns and villages; and louder and more numerous
grew the trampling footsteps of the recruits that marched behind.

And now the army began to gather into Boston. Tall, lanky, awkward,
fellows, came in squads, and companies, and regiments, swaggering along,
dressed in their brown homespun clothes and blue yarn stockings. They
stooped, as if they still had hold of the plough-handles, and marched
without any time or tune. Hither they came, from the corn-fields, from the
clearing in the forest, from the blacksmith's forge, from the carpenter's
workshop, and from the shoemaker's seat. They were an army of rough faces
and sturdy frames. A trained officer of Europe would have laughed at them,
till his sides had ached. But there was a spirit in their bosoms, which is
more essential to soldiership than to wear red coats, and march in stately
ranks to the sound of regular music.

Still was heard the beat of the drum—rub-a-dub-dub!—and now a host of
three or four thousand men had found their way to Boston. Little quiet was
there then! Forth scampered the school-boys, shouting behind the drums.
The whole town—the whole land—was on fire with war.

After the arrival of the troops, they were probably reviewed upon the
Common. We may imagine Governor Shirley and General Pepperell riding
slowly along the line, while the drummers beat strange old tunes, like
psalm-tunes, and all the officers and soldiers put on their most warlike
looks. It would have been a terrible sight for the Frenchmen, could they
but have witnessed it!

At length, on the twenty-fourth of March, 1745, the army gave a parting
shout, and set sail from Boston in ten or twelve vessels, which had been
hired by the governor. A few days afterwards, an English fleet, commanded
by Commodore Peter Warren, sailed also for Louisbourg, to assist the
provincial army. So, now, after all this bustle of preparation, the town
and province were left in stillness and repose.

But, stillness and repose, at such a time of anxious expectation, are hard
to bear. The hearts of the old people and women sunk within them, when
they reflected what perils they had sent their sons, and husbands, and
brothers, to encounter. The boys loitered heavily to school, missing the
rub-a-dub-dub, and the trampling march, in the rear of which they had so
lately run and shouted. All the ministers prayed earnestly, in their
pulpits, for a blessing on the army of New England. In every family, when
the good man lifted up his heart in domestic worship, the burthen of his
petition was for the safety of those dear ones, who were fighting under
the walls of Louisbourg.

Governor Shirley, all this time, was probably in an ecstasy of impatience.
He could not sit still a moment. He found no quiet, not even in
Grandfather's chair, but hurried to-and-fro, and up and down the staircase
of the Province House. Now, he mounted to the cupola, and looked sea-ward,
straining his eyes to discover if there were a sail upon the horizon. Now,
he hastened down the stairs, and stood beneath the portal, on the red
freestone steps, to receive some mud-bespattered courtier, from whom he
hoped to hear tidings of the army.

A few weeks after the departure of the troops, Commodore Warren sent a
small vessel to Boston, with two French prisoners. One of them was
Monsieur Bouladrie, who had been commander of a battery, outside of the
walls of Louisbourg. The other was the Marquis de la Maison Forte, captain
of a French frigate, which had been taken by Commodore Warren's fleet.
These prisoners assured Governor Shirley, that the fortifications of
Louisbourg were far too strong ever to be stormed by the provincial army.

Day after day, and week after week, went on. The people grew almost
heart-sick with anxiety; for the flower of the country was at peril in
this adventurous expedition. It was now day-break, on the morning of the
third of July.

But, hark! what sound is this? The hurried clang of a bell! There is the
Old North, pealing suddenly out!—there, the Old South strikes in!—now, the
peal comes from the church in Brattle street!—the bells of nine or ten
steeples are all flinging their iron voices, at once, upon the morning
breeze! Is it joy or alarm? There goes the roar of a cannon, too! A royal
salute is thundered forth. And, now, we hear the loud exulting shout of a
multitude, assembled in the street. Huzza, Huzza! Louisbourg has
surrendered! Huzza!