The Only Woman in the Town, and Other Tales of the American Revolution by Sarah J. Prichard
THE OVERTHROW OF THE STATUE OF KING GEORGE.
If, on the evening of July 9, 1876, at six of the clock, you go andstand where the shadow of the steeple of St. Paul's church in New Yorkis falling, you will occupy the space General Washington occupied,just one hundred years ago, when with uncovered head and reverentmien, he, in the presence of and surrounded by a brigade of noblesoldiers, listened to the reading of the Declaration of Independence.
You will remember that at the church door on Sunday, Blue-Eyed Boybrought to him, by word of mouth, the great news that a nation wasborn on Thursday.
This news was now, for the first time, announced to the men of NewYork and New England.
No wonder that their military caps came off on Tuesday, that theirarms swung in the air, and their voices burst forth into one loudacclaim that might have been heard by the British foe then landing onStaten Island.
As you stand there, and the shadow of old St. Paul swings around andcovers you, shut your eyes and listen. Something of the olden music,of the loud acclaim, may swing around with the shadow and fall on yourears, since no motion is ever spent, no sound ever still.
On that night, when the grand burst of enthusiasm had arisen,Blue-Eyed Boy said to General Washington: "I am afraid, sir, ifCongress had known, they never would have done it, never! It seemedeasy to do it in Philadelphia, where everything is just as it used tobe; but here, with all the British ships riding in, full of soldiers,and guns enough in them to smash the old State House where they didit! If they'd only known about the ships!--"
Ah! Blue-Eyed Boy. You didn't keep your eye very close to CongressHall in the morning of last Thursday, or you would have heard Mr.Hancock or Mr. Thompson read to Congress a letter from GeneralWashington, announcing the arrival of General Howe at Sandy Hook withone hundred and ten ships of war.
No, no! Blue-Eyed Boy and every other boy; the men who dared to say,and sign their names to the assertion, "A nation is born to-day," didnot do it under the rosy flush of glorious victory, but in thefast-coming shadow of mighty Britain, strong in all the power andradiant with all the pomp of war.
And what had a few little colonies to meet them with? They had, it istrue, a new name, that of "States"; but cannon and camp-kettles alikewere wanting; the small powder mills in the Connecticut hive couldyield them only a fragment of the black honey General Washington criedfor, day and night, from Cambridge to New York; the houses of theinhabitants, diligently searched for fragments of lead, gave them notenough; and you know how every homestead in New England was besiegedfor the last yard of homespun cloth, that the country's soldiers mightnot go coatless by day and tentless at night.
Brave men and women good!
Let us hurrah for them all, if it is a hundred years too late for themto hear. The men of a hundred years to come will remember our huzzasof this year, and grow, it may be, the braver and the better for themall.
But now General Washington has ridden away to his home at Number Onein the Broadway; the brigade has moved on, and even Blue-Eyed Boy ishastening after General Washington, intent on taking a farewellglance, from the rampart of Fort George, at the far-away Englishships.
To-morrow he will begin his homeward journey through the Jerseys. Hispass is in his pocket, and as he quickens his steps, he sees groupsgathering here and there, and knows that some excitement is astir inthe public mind, but thinks it is all about the great Declaration.
He reaches Wall street, and the sun is at its going down. Up from theEast river come the sounds of orderly drummers drumming, ofregimental fifers fifing. He stays his steps, and stands listening: hesees a brigade marching the "grand parade" at sunset.
Up it comes from Wall street to Smith street; (I am sure I do not knowwhat Smith street is lost into now, but the orderly-book of MajorPhineas Porter of Waterbury, one hundred years old to-morrow morning,has it "Smith street"); from the upper end of Smith street back toWall street, and the young Philadelphian follows it, marching to soundof fife and drum.
As it turns towards the East river, he remembers whither he was boundand starts off with speed for the Grand Battery.
As he goes, glancing backward, he sees that all the town is at hisheels.
He begins to run. All the town begins to run. He runs faster: thecrowd runs faster. It is shouting now. He tries to listen; but hisfeet are flying, his head is bobbing, his hat is falling, and this iswhat he thinks he hears in the midst of all: "Down with him! Down withthe Tory!" It is "tyrant" that they cry, but he hears it as "tory,"and he knows full well how Governor Franklin of New Jersey and MayorMatthews of New York have just been sent off to Connecticut for saferkeeping, and he does not care to go into New England just now, so heflies faster than ever, fully believing that the crowd pursues him, asa Royalist.
Just before him opens the Bowling Green. Into it he darts, hoping tofind covert, but there is none at hand.
Right in the midst of the enclosure stands an equestrian statue ofKing George the Third.
It is high; it looks safe. Blue-Eyed Boy makes for it, utterlyignorant of what it is.
The crowd surges on. It is now at the gate. The young martyr makes aspring at the leg and tail of the horse; he swings himself aloft, hecatches and clutches and climbs, and in the midst of ringing shouts of"Down with him! Down with horse and king!" Blue-Eyed Boy gets overKing George and clings to the up-reared neck of the leaden horse;thence he turns his wild-eyed face to the throng below. "Down withhim! He don't hear! He won't hear!" cry the populace.
"I do hear!" in wild afright, shrieks Blue-Eyed Boy, "and I'm not aTory."
Shut your eyes again, and see the picture as it stands there in thewaning light of the ninth of July, 1776.
Four years ago, over the ocean, borne by loyal subjects to a loyalcolony, it came, this statue, that you shall see. It is a noble horse,though made of lead, that stands there, poised on its hinder legs, itsneck in air. King George sits erect, the crown of Great Britain on hishead, a sword in his left hand, his right grasping the bridle-lines,and over all, a sheen of gold, for horse and king were gilded.
King George faces the bay, and looks vainly down. All his brave shipsand eight thousand Red Coats, yesterday landed on yonder island,cannot save him now. Had he listened to the petitions of his childrenit might have been, but he would not hear their just plaints, and nowhis statue, standing so firm against storm, wind and time, tremblesbefore the sea of wrath surging at its base.
"Come down, come down, you young rascal!" cries a strong voice toBlue-Eyed Boy, but his hands grasped at either ear of the horse, andhe clings with all his strength to resist the pull of a dozen hands athis feet.
"Come down, you rogue, or we'll topple you over with his majesty, KingGeorge," greets the lad's ears, and opens them to his situation.
"King George!" cried Blue-Eyed Boy with a sudden sense of hisridiculous fear and panic, and he yields to the stronger influenceexerted on his right leg, and so comes to earth with emotions ofrelief and mortification curiously mingled in his young mind.
To think that he had had the vanity to imagine the crowd pursued him,and so has flown from his own friends to the statue of King George forsafety!
"I won't tell," thinks the lad, "a word about this to anyone at home,"and then he falls to pushing the men who are pushing the statue, andover it topples, horse and rider, down upon the sod of the littleUnited States, just five days old.
How they hew it! How they hack it! How they saw at it with saw andpenknife! Blue-Eyed Boy himself cuts off the king's ear, that will nothear the petitions of people or Congress, proudly pockets it, andwalks off, thankful because he carries his own on his head.
Would you like to know what General Washington thought about theoverthrow of the statue in Bowling Green?
We will turn to Phineas Porter's orderly-book, and copy from thegeneral orders for July 10, 1776, what he said to the soldiers aboutit:
"The General doubts not the persons who pulled down and mutilated thestatue in the Broad-way last night were actuated b
The same morning, the heavy ear of the king in his pocket, Blue-EyedBoy, once more on his pony, sets off to cross the ferry on his way toPhiladelphia. We leave him caught in the mazes of the Flying Campgathering at Amboy; whither by day and by night have been ferried overfrom Staten Island, all the flocks of sheep and herds of cattle thatcould be gotten away--lest the hungry men in red coats, coming up thebay, seize upon and destroy them.
Ah! what days, what days and nights too were those for the youngUnited States to pass through!
To-day, we echo what somebody wrote somewhere, even then, amid all thedarkness--words we would gladly see on our banner's top-most fold:
"The United States! Bounded by the ocean and backed by the forest.Whom hath she to fear but her God?"