CHAPTER XX.
A CERTAIN REMARKABLE BOOK--A FEW SUGGESTIONS RESPECTING BOSTON--DELUSIONS OF CHILDHOOD--BULLYING GENERAL GAGE--JUDGE PITMAN AND THE CATECHISM--AN EXTRAORDINARY BLUNDER--THE FACTS IN THE CASE OF HILLEGASS--A FALSE ALARM.
While I was helping one of my youngsters a night or two ago to master atough little problem in his arithmetic, I picked up the history that hehad been studying, and as he went off to bed with the other tinytravelers up the hill of knowledge, I looked through the volume. It wasGoodrich's History of the United States, for the use of beginners; andit had a very familiar appearance. I gained my first glimpse of the pastfrom this very book; and not only could I remember the text as I turnedover the leaves, but the absurd pictures of General Washington and thesurrender of Cornwallis, the impossible portraits of John Smith andBenjamin Franklin, and the unnatural illustration of the manner in whichthe Pilgrim Fathers landed, seemed like respectable old acquaintanceswhom I had known and admired in happier days.
The man who can find one of the books that he studied when he was achild at school will experience a pleasant sensation if he will open itand look over its pages. It will recall some delightful memories, andbring him very close again to the almost forgotten time when thatwretched little book was to him the mightiest literary achievement inexistence. For this reason I love Goodrich's History; and I willcontinue to regard it with affection even though my judgment may notgive it approval as a work of very remarkable excellence.
When Mrs. Adeler descended, after tucking the weary scholars comfortablyin bed, I directed her attention to these facts, and to some of thepeculiarities of Goodrich's effort:
"This little book, Mrs. A., first unlocked for me the door of history.It is a history of the United States; and as it was written by a man wholived in Boston and believed in Boston, it is hardly necessary to saythat in my childhood I obtained from the volume the impression that ourbeloved native land consisted chiefly of Boston. I do not wish to revilethat city. It is in many respects a model municipality. It is, I think,better governed than any other large community in the land, it hasgreater intellectual force than any of our cities, and its people have astronger and more demonstrative civic pride. In Boston the best men areusually at the front, and the conduct of public affairs is notentrusted, as it is in Philadelphia and other cities, to black-guardlypoliticians whom a respectable man would not admit to his house, and whomaintain themselves in power by fraudulent elections and by stealing thepeople's money. Every Boston man believes in the greatness of his city,and is proud of it. That is an excellent condition of public sentiment,and we may pardon it even if it does sometimes produce results that areslightly ridiculous.
"Goodrich was what might be called an excessive Boston man, and hislittle history is very apt, unintentionally, to convey erroneousimpressions to the infant mind. In my early boyhood, being completelysaturated with Goodrich, I entertained an indistinct idea that the eyeof Columbus rested upon Boston long before any other object appearedabove the horizon, and somehow I cherished a conviction that the nativeswho greeted him and bowed down at his feet were men who inhabited BunkerHill Monument and disported themselves perpetually among the chambers ofFaneuil Hall. I never doubted that every important event in our annals,from the landing of those unpleasant old Puritans of the Mayflower downto the election of Andrew Jackson, occurred in Boston, and wasattributable entirely to the remarkable superiority of the people ofthat city. I scoffed at the theory that John Smith was in Virginia atthe time of his salvation by Pocahontas, and I was even disposed toregard the account of the signing of the Declaration of Independence atPhiladelphia as a sort of an insignificant 'side show' which should havebeen alluded to briefly in a foot-note. I honestly believed that the onegreat mistake of George Washington's life was that he was born elsewherethan in Boston, and I felt that, however hard such retribution mightappear, he deserved to be considered a little less great on account ofthat error.
"As for the war of the Revolution, I could not doubt, while I maintainedmy faith in Goodrich, that it was begun by the high-spirited citizens ofBoston in consequence of the wrongs inflicted upon them by that daringand impious monarch King George III. It was equally clear that theconflict was carried on only by the people of Boston, and that thevictory was won at last because of the valor displayed by the citizensof that community.
"In my opinion, and apparently in the opinion of Goodrich, the leadingevent of the war was that related in chapter eighty-five. The storyoccupies the whole chapter. The historian evidently intended that theyouthful mind, while meditating upon the most important episode of thedreadful struggle, should not be disturbed by minor matters. Chaptereighty-five relates that certain British soldiers demolished snow hillsthat had been constructed by some boys upon Boston Common, a hallowedspot which Goodrich taught me to regard as the pivotal point of theuniverse. The boys determined to call upon General Gage, and to protestagainst this brutal outrage committed by the hireling butchers of abloated despot. Now listen while I read the account of that interview asit is given by Goodrich:
"General Gage asked why so many children had called upon him. 'We come, sir,' said the tallest boy, 'to demand satisfaction,' 'What!' said the general; 'have your fathers been teaching you rebellion, and sent you to exhibit it here?' 'Nobody sent us, sir,' answered the boy, while his cheek reddened and his eye flashed. 'We have never injured nor insulted your troops; but they have trodden down our snow hills and broken the ice on our skating ground. We complained, and they called us young rebels, and told us to help ourselves if we could. We told the captain of this, and he laughed at us. Yesterday our works were destroyed the third time, and we will bear it no longer.' General Gage looked at them a moment in silent admiration, and then said to an officer at his side, 'The very children here draw in a love of liberty with the air they breathe.'
"The story of this event, which shaped the destinies of a great nationand gave liberty to a continent, I learned by heart. Many and many anight have I lain awake wishing that Philadelphians would organizeanother war with Great Britain, so that British soldiers could come overand batter down a snow hill that I would build in Independence Square. Ifelt certain that I should go at once, in such an event, to see thegeneral, and should overwhelm him with another outburst of fieryindignation. It seemed rather hard that Philadelphia boys should neverhave a chance to surpass the boys of Boston. But still I could not helpadmiring those young braves and regarding them as the real authors ofAmerican independence. I was well assured that if that 'tallest boy' hadnot entered the general's room and flashed his eye at Gage all wouldhave been lost; the country would have been ground beneath the iron heelof the oppressor, and Americans would have been worse than slaves.Perhaps it did me no harm to believe all this; but it seems to me thatwe might as well instruct children properly to begin with. Therefore Ishall give our boy, Agamemnon, some private lessons in history tosupplement the wisdom of Goodrich."
Just as I had concluded my remarks, Judge Pitman came in to ask me tolet him look at the evening paper which I had brought with me from thecity. I explained to him the nature of the subject that had beenconsidered, and the judge, as usual, had something to say about it.
"Do you know," he observed, "that them school-books that they makenow-a-days is perfectly bewilderin' to a man like me? When I went toschool, we learned nothin' but readin', writin' and arithmetic. Butnow--well, they've got clear past me. I could no more rassle with thelearnin' they have at the schools now than a babe unborn."
"To what special department of learning do you refer?" I inquired.
"Oh, all of 'em, all of 'em. I had a very cur'ous experience with one o'them books once," said the judge, with a laugh. "Some years ago I took anotion to jine the church, an' they give me the catechism to learn aforeI could git in. When I got home, I laid the book away on the shelf, an'didn't go for it for two or three days. When I was ready to study it up,I reached down what I thought was the catechism, an
' I was kindersurprised to see that it was called 'Familiar Science.' You understandit was a book my daughter had been learnin' at school. But I knowed nobetter. I never paid no 'tention to religion afore; an' although itstruck me as sorter queer that a catechism should have such questionsand answers in it, I thought the church people that give me the bookmust know what was right, so I said nothin' an' went to work at it."
"How did you succeed?"
"Oh, putty good. I learned three or four pages by heart, an' I thoughtthat was 'bout enough. So after while the minister an' the rest come'round an' begun examinin' me. I noticed that the questions kinderdidn't fit in, but I did my best; an' when they'd ask me about theScripters, I'd jam in somethin' about carbonic acid gas, an' when theyinquired about the whole duty of man, I desp'rately give 'em somethin'relatin' to the functions of lightnin'-rods."
"You must have astonished them."
"You never seen men wuss bewildered," replied the judge; "but I think Ireally skeered 'em when they asked me about Solomon's temple, an' I litout with an answer referrin' to smoky chimneys. They thought I wasinsane. But when I pulled out the book an' showed it to 'em, thepreacher laughed an' told me about the mistake. Then we hunted up thecatechism an' got the thing straight. The church folks had the laugh onme for a while, but I didn't mind it. An' it _was_ pretty fair for ajoke, wasn't it?"
"Excellent."
"But I got a better one on at least one of them fellers. Doctor Brindleywas on the examinin' committee, an' he run me harder than any of 'emabout it. Well, sir--Do you know old Hillegass?"
"No; I never heard of him."
"He lives out yer on the Wilmington road. Well, sir, some time aforethat Hillegass was putty near dead. He was the wust case I ever seen.Broken down, thin an' pale, with no appetite, his lungs weak, his livergood for nothin', his legs full of rheumatics, his heart affected an'his head achin' with neuralger, I really believe that man was thesickest human bein' that ever breathed the breath of life. All thedoctors in the country had a shy at him one time an' another; an' as hekep' a-gettin' wuss an' wuss, they made him mad, an' he wouldn't paytheir bills."
"He was not much to blame for that."
"Certainly not. Well, one day them doctors met, an' after talkin' thething over they agreed not to go to Hillegass's again unless he settledup, you understand. They said, 'Now we'll let Hillegass die; we'vefooled with him long enough. He's either got to pay or perish. No moreHillegass for us unless we see some cash.' So for about a year they lethim alone; an' whenever one of 'em would drive past the house, he wouldpull up for a minute, look to see if there was crape on the door, an'then go on, shakin' his head an' sayin', 'Poor Hillegass! the stingy oldfool's not long for this world.'"
"Did he die?"
"Die! One day Dr. Brindley felt kinder sorry for Hillegass, an' heweakened on his resolution. So he called at the house to see how he wasgittin' on. As he went in the yard he seen a stoutish man liftin' abar'l of flour in a waggin. When the man got the bar'l in, he seen thedoctor an' come for'ard. The doctor thought he knew the scar on theman's nose, but he couldn't believe it. Howsomedever, it _was_ oldHillegass, well an' hearty as a buck, an' able to h'ist the roof off thebarn if he'd a mind to. You understand that I had a very soft thing onBrindley jes' then; an' he never seemed to take no furder interest inthe catechism business when he met me. An' they don't encourage doctorsmuch out that way now; no, sir. They trust to luck an' natur', which inmy opinion is the best way, anyhow."
"A great many remarkable things seem to have happened in this place," Isaid.
"Yes," responded the judge. "You'd hardly think it of such a quiet townas this 'pears to be; but somehow there's 'most always somethin' livelygoin' on. There was that fuss 'round at Dr. Hopkins's a couple o' yearago; did you hear 'bout that?"
"Not that I know of."
"Well, we'd jes' got a new fire-engine in the town, an' the men that runher thought they'd play a little joke on the chief of the department byrushin' 'round to his house an' pretendin' it was afire. By a mostunfort'nit circumstance, the chief moved out of the house that mornin',and Dr. Hopkins--the preacher, you know--moved in. Them fellers comea-peltin' 'round with the engine, an' they run up their ladders an'begun a-playin' on the roof in a manner that skeered the Hopkinsesnearly to death. But the other fire company thought there really was afire, an' they come out with their engine an' begun to squirt on thehouse. The others tried to explain how it was, but the new-comerswouldn't believe 'em, an' they kep' a-pourin' water into the winders an'a carryin' on like mad. So at last they got up a fight, an' they foughtall over the house an' on the stairs an' up an' down the entries, untilDr. Hopkins was putty near insane; an' when they went home, he countedup about two hundred dollars damages, which them fellers had to pay.Yes, it is astonishin' how they used to keep things a-movin' in thistown. An' now I really must be goin'. I'll send back the paper the fustthing in the mornin', for certain."
The judge then went home; and just as he passed out of the door BobParker came in with a radiant countenance. He had succeeded in obtainingthe evidence that was needed for his vindication.