Part 7 (2/2)
”He was a bold fellow,” observed Charley, who was himself somewhat addicted to a similar mode of settling disputes.
”More bold than wise,” replied Grandfather; ”for complaints were carried to the king, and Sir William Phips was summoned to England, to make the best answer he could. Accordingly he went to London, where, in 1695, he was seized with a malignant fever, of which he died. Had he lived longer, he would probably have gone again in search of sunken treasure. He had heard of a Spanish s.h.i.+p, which was cast away in 1502, during the lifetime of Columbus. Bovadilla, Roldan, and many other Spaniards, were lost in her, together with the immense wealth of which they had robbed the South American kings.”
”Why, Grandfather,” exclaimed Laurence, ”what magnificent ideas the governor had! Only think of recovering all that old treasure, which had lain almost two centuries under the sea! Me thinks Sir William Phips ought to have been buried in the ocean, when he died; so that he might have gone down among the sunken s.h.i.+ps, and cargoes of treasure, which he was always dreaming about in his lifetime.”
”He was buried in one of the crowded cemeteries of London,” said Grandfather. ”As he left no children, his estate was inherited by his nephew, from whom is descended the present Marquis of Normandy. The n.o.ble Marquis is not aware, perhaps, that the prosperity of his family originated in the successful enterprise of a New England s.h.i.+p carpenter.”
Chapter III
”At the death of Sir William Phips,” proceeded Grandfather, ”our chair was bequeathed to Mr. Ezekiel Cheever, a famous school-master in Boston. This old gentleman came from London in 1637, and had been teaching school ever since; so that there were now aged men, grandfathers like myself, to whom Master Cheever had taught their alphabet. He was a person of venerable aspect, and wore a long white beard.
”Was the chair placed in his school?” asked Charley.
”Yes, in his school,” answered Grandfather; ”and we may safely say that it had never before been regarded with such awful reverence-no, not even when the old governors of Ma.s.sachusetts sat in it. Even you, Charley, my boy, would have felt some respect for the chair, if you had seen it occupied by this famous school-master.”
And here Grandfather endeavored to give his auditors an idea how matters were managed in schools above a hundred years ago. As this will probably be an interesting subject to our readers, we shall make a separate sketch of it, and call it
THE OLD-FAs.h.i.+ONED SCHOOL
Now imagine yourselves, my children, in Master Ezekiel Cheever's school-room. It is a large, dingy room, with a sanded floor, and is lighted by windows that turn on hinges, and have little diamond shaped panes of gla.s.s. The scholars sit on long benches, with desks before them.
At one end of the room is a great fire-place, so very s.p.a.cious, that there is room enough for three or four boys to stand in each of the chimney corners. This was the good old fas.h.i.+on of fire-places, when there was wood enough in the forests to keep people warm, without their digging into the bowels of the earth for coal.
It is a winter's day when we take our peep into the school-room. See what great logs of wood have been rolled into the fire-place, and what a broad, bright blaze goes leaping up the chimney! And every few moments, a vast cloud of smoke is puffed into the room, which sails slowly over the heads of the scholars, until it gradually settles upon the walls and ceiling.
They are blackened with the smoke of many years already.
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Next, look at our old historic chair! It is placed, you perceive, in the most comfortable part of the room, where the generous glow of the fire is sufficiently felt, without being too intensely hot. How stately the old chair looks, as if it remembered its many famous occupants, but yet were conscious that a greater man is sitting in it now! Do you see the venerable school-master, severe in aspect, with a black scull-cap on his head, like an ancient Puritan, and the snow of his white beard drifting down to his very girdle? What boy would dare to play, or whisper, or even glance aside from his book, while Master Cheever is on the look-out, behind his spectacles! For such offenders, if any such there be, a rod of birch is hanging over the fire-place, and a heavy ferule lies on the master's desk.
And now school is begun. What a murmur of mult.i.tudinous tongues, like the whispering leaves of a wind-stirred oak, as the scholars con over their various tasks! Buz, buz, buz! Amid just such a murmur has Master Cheever spent above sixty years: and long habit has made it as pleasant to him as the hum of a bee-hive, when the insects are busy in the suns.h.i.+ne.
Now a cla.s.s in Latin is called to recite. Forth steps a row of queer-looking little fellows, wearing square-skirted coats, and small clothes, with b.u.t.tons at the knee. They look like so many grandfathers in their second childhood. These lads are to be sent to Cambridge, and educated for the learned professions. Old Master Cheever has lived so long, and seen so many generations of school-boys grow up to be men, that now he can almost prophesy what sort of a man each boy will be. One urchin shall hereafter be a doctor, and administer pills and potions, and stalk gravely through life, perfumed with a.s.saf[oe]tida. Another shall wrangle at the bar, and fight his way to wealth and honors, and in his declining age, shall be a wors.h.i.+pful member of his Majesty's council. A third-and he is the Master's favorite-shall be a worthy successor to the old Puritan ministers, now in their graves; he shall preach with great unction and effect, and leave volumes of sermons, in print and ma.n.u.script, for the benefit of future generations.
But, as they are merely school-boys now, their business is to construe Virgil. Poor Virgil, whose verses, which he took so much pains to polish, have been mis-scanned, and mis-pa.r.s.ed, and mis-interpreted, by so many generations of idle school-boys! There, sit down, ye Latinists. Two or three of you, I fear, are doomed to feel the master's ferule.
Next comes a cla.s.s in Arithmetic. These boys are to be the merchants, shop-keepers, and mechanics, of a future period. Hitherto, they have traded only in marbles and apples. Hereafter, some will send vessels to England for broadcloths and all sorts of manufactured wares, and to the West Indies for sugar, and rum, and coffee. Others will stand behind counters, and measure tape, and ribbon, and cambric, by the yard. Others will upheave the blacksmith's hammer, or drive the plane over the carpenter's bench, or take the lapstone and the awl, and learn the trade of shoe-making. Many will follow the sea, and become bold, rough sea-captains.
This cla.s.s of boys, in short, must supply the world with those active, skilful hands, and clear, sagacious heads, without which the affairs of life would be thrown into confusion, by the theories of studious and visionary men. Wherefore, teach them their multiplication table, good Master Cheever, and whip them well, when they deserve it; for much of the country's welfare depends on these boys!
But, alas! while we have been thinking of other matters, Master Cheever's watchful eye has caught two boys at play. Now we shall see awful times!
The two malefactors are summoned before the master's chair, wherein he sits, with the terror of a judge upon his brow. Our old chair is now a judgment-seat. Ah, Master Cheever has taken down that terrible birch-rod!
Short is the trial-the sentence quickly pa.s.sed-and now the judge prepares to execute it in person. Thwack! thwack! thwack! In those good old times, a school-master's blows were well laid on.
See! the birch-rod has lost several of its twigs, and will hardly serve for another execution. Mercy on us, what a bellowing the urchins make! My ears are almost deafened, though the clamor comes through the far length of a hundred and fifty years. There, go to your seats, poor boys; and do not cry, sweet little Alice; for they have ceased to feel the pain, a long time since.
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