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CHAPTER III

We have no title-deeds to house or lands; Owners and occupants of earlier dates, From graves forgotten stretch their dusty hands, And hold in mortmain still their old estates.

EMERSON.

THE PRESCOTT FAMILY – PRESCOTT HOMESTEAD. – ECHOES FROM ITS WOOD-CAPPED HILLS. – SOCIETY OF THE CINCINNATI. – CONNECTION WITH GOVERNOR ROGER WOLCOTT. – ALLIANCE WITH THE LINZEE FAMILY. – CHARACTERISTICS OF COLONEL WILLIAM PRESCOTT

      THE Prescott family home is on the northern border of the town of Pepperell, and on the rising around that soon merges into the hills of the Granite State. Its present territory of two hundred acres was included in the grant of 1655 to Mr. Dean Winthrop and others. Benjamin Prescott was the first of the family to secure a title to this remote section. He was doubtless impelled by that spirit of adventure which actuated many of the early settlers of New England to push out where land was abundant, having been impressed that such property was the basis of wealth and influence in the mother Country. Benjamin Pres-

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cott began early to exert an influence in the West Parish; and his son William, who had nearly attained his majority when the Pepperell home was established, found there ample opportunity for the development of his powers. No better combination of blood, brain, and muscle could be found than that which made up the young man William Prescott, who, well matched with Abigail Hale, his wife of Puritan stock, developed this home on the frontier, and continued the family possession. This young farmer was a power in the struggling town, whose records show that he was among the first to protest against injustice.
      We can imagine the influence of his words upon the distressed people at the blockaded port of Boston, voicing as they did the sentiment of the northern border of the Province at the time when the mandamus councillors took their oath of office.

      "Be not dismayed nor disheartened in this day of great trials. We heartily sympathize with you, and are always ready to do all in our power for your support, comfort, and relief; knowing that Providence has placed you where you must stand the first shock. We consider that we are all emerged in one bottom, and must sink or swim together. We think if we submit to those regulations, all is gone. Our forefathers passed the vast Atlantic, spent their blood and treasure, that they might enjoy their liberties, both civil and religious, and transmit them to their posterity. Their children have waded through seas of difficulty, to leave us free and happy in the enjoyment of English privileges. Now, if we should give them up, can our children rise up and call us

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blessed? Is not a glorious death in defence of our liberties better than a short, infamous life, and our memory to be had in detestation to the latest posterity? Let us all be of one heart, and stand fast in the liberty wherewith Christ has made us free; and may he of his infinite mercy grant us deliverance out of all our troubles."

      In driving over the delightful hills of the town from the village of Pepperell to the Prescott home, one can but see in fancy the dignified figure of the patriot preacher, as upon his horse he galloped over this route to the same homestead to take counsel with his gallant young parishioner and avowed patriot. Young Prescott was appointed captain of the militia company soon after his return from the expedition to Nova Scotia, and was promoted in 1774 to the position of colonel of the regiment of minute-men from Pepperell and adjoining towns.
      Although remote from any centre of habitation, a powerful influence was exerted from this home during the months of anxiety which preceded open hostilities. Colonel Prescott was nearly fifty years of age, and besides enjoying the esteem and confidence of his townsmen, was well and favorably known in all that locality ; Province line was no barrier to his popularity in both civic and military circles. The semiweekly drillings of the Pepperell minute-men under Colonel Prescott, and the bold statements from the pulpit by Rev. Joseph Emerson, kept the peo-

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ple in constant expectation; so that when the news of April 19 was received they were not long in making final preparations. A mounted messenger reached the town in the middle of the forenoon, declaring that the Regulars had come out from Boston, and killed eight men at Lexington, and were fighting at Concord. The despatch with which Colonel Prescott buckled on his sword, and bade wife and only son William, then thirteen years of age, a tender farewell as he galloped off the hill, may be known without resorting to imagination; for his habits of early years and later experience are in proof of this. His order was for the Pepperell company and that at Hollis to march at once to Groton, and there join the company of the latter town, while he proceeded directly to Groton. The effect of the more immediate contact with Colonel Prescott is seen in the report that the company from his town reached Groton before the men there were ready to march. The selectmen were then together distributing arms and ammunition to their soldiers. Dr. Oliver Prescott, chairman, brother of the Colonel, upon hearing the music and seeing the Pepperell company marching to the Common in full ranks, said, "This is a disgrace to us!" But if the reader has studied with care the first volume of this series, "Beneath Old Roof Trees," he remembers that a portion of the Groton company marched during the hours of

[Photo of Prescott Homestead, Pepperell]

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the previous night, and consequently represented the town in the fight at Old North Bridge.
      Since it is the Prescott homestead that we are now considering, we will leave the minute-men, and return to the historic place. Weary with the tumult of war, Colonel William Prescott, in the spirit of a Cincinnatus,[1] returned to his home, and resumed the peaceful employment of cultivating his paternal acres. War did not deter the only son of the colonel from his school course. In the autumn of 1776 he left the old hearth-stone to attend school at Byfield, where he fitted for Harvard College, from which he graduated, and become the eminent jurist, judge William Prescott. While his life was largely spent elsewhere, he never lost his interest in the old home. Of the next generation to cherish the ancestral homestead came William H. Prescott, the historian. Often weary of city life, he packed his books in huge trunks, and took passage in the old stagecoach for this family home among the hills, where he found tonic in the pure atmosphere, and inspiration from the invisible presence of his grandsire, the hero of Bunker Hill. The fifth generation in possession of the well-known estate was Mr.


[1] "The officers of the American Army having been taken from the Citizens of America possess high veneration for the character of that illustrious Roman, Lucius Quintius Cincinnatus, and being resolved to follow his example, by returning to their citizenship, they think they may with propriety denominate themselves the Society of the Cincinnati."

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William G. Prescott, the only son of the eminent scholar and historian. It was his greeting that assured me of a cordial welcome to the home, as he gave me to drink from the well where the sixth generation quaffed from the brimming bucket, while a representative of the seventh generation prattled in innocency at our feet.[1]
      I would fain share with my reader the courtesy shown me, by Mr. William G. Prescott; but since that is beyond my power, I now invite him to the enjoyment of a June clay at the old homestead.
      One of the many precious heirlooms with which this house abounds is the commission to Colonel Prescott in the army of "The United Colonies," signed by John Hancock, making him "colonel of the 7th regiment of foot." It hangs in the room made sacred by the life of the one to whom it was given. Another reminder of the colonel is a fragment of the flowing gown, or banyan, which made Colonel Prescott conspicuous in the redoubt at Bunker Hill on the 17th of June. He threw aside his military wrap in the heat of the engagement, and appeared in this peculiar garment, which, slashed by many a sword thrust, was long treasured in the home after the colonel had passed away. The majestic figure of Colonel Prescott in this peculiar dress attracted the eye of General Gage, as by the aid of his glass he reviewed the


[1] Child of Hon. Roger Wolcott, now Governor of Massachusetts, and Edith Prescott, daughter of William G. Prescott.

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scenes of that June day. Intent on duty, Colonel Prescott was unmindful of danger, scarcely heeding the shots as they came screaming over his head from the sloops of war which lay off in the stream. The eye that directed the shots from one vessel of the fleet was, strangely enough, destined to be changed from that of an enemy of the Provincials to that of a stanch friend; and among the attractions of the home, reminding one that truth is stranger than fiction, are two cannon-balls, supposed to have been fired from the sloop Falcon to the redoubt on Bunker Hill. These are rusty with the age of one hundred and twenty-one years, but are kept near the picture of the man, Captain Linzee, who it is supposed directed their course.
      Captain John Linzee of the royal navy, in the service of the king, was bent on the destruction of the American army at Bunker Hill, and later harassing the people of the shore towns. But he afterwards became a friend of the Republic, and in the days of peace his granddaughter was united in marriage with a grandson of Colonel William Prescott (William H., the historian). The romance of history is brought out most vividly by these rusty missiles of war, and by the strong features of the man who steered their course. What wonder Thackeray should make note of this in the opening of the "Virginians."

      "On the library wall of one of the most famous writers of America there hang two crossed swords which his relatives

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wore in the great war for independence. The one sword was gallantly drawn in the service of the king, the other was the weapon of a brave and honored republican soldier. The possessor of the harmless trophy has earned for himself a name alike honored in his ancestors' country and in his own, where genius like his has always a peaceful welcome." [Photo of plaque containing the crossed swords]

THE SWORD OF COLONEL WILLIAM PRESCOTT WORN BY HIM WHILE IN COMMAND OF THE PROVINCIAL FORCES AT THE BATTLE OF BUNKER HILL 17 JUNE, 1775, AND BEQUEATHED TO THE MASS: HIST: SOCIETY BY HIS GRANDSON WILLIAM H. PRESCOTT.

THE SWORD OF CAPTAIN JOHN LINZEE, R.N., WHO COMMANDED THE BRITISH SLOOP OF WAR FALCON WHILE ACTING AGAINST THE AMERICANS DURING THE BATTLE OF BUNKER HILL. PRESENTED TO THE MASS: HIST: SOCIETY 14 APRIL, 1859, BY HIS GRANDCHILDREN, THOMAS C. A. LINZEE AND MRS. WM. H. PRESCOTT.

      These crossed swords are treasured in the rooms of the Massachusetts Historical Society at Boston, and remind one of the fulfilment of the prophecy, "And he shall judge among the nations, and shall rebuke many people: and they shall beat their swords into ploughshares, and their spears into pruninghooks: nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more" (Isaiah ii. 4).

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      Another treasured relic of war is the hilt of the sword used by the first Napoleon. The buffet near by in the corner is loaded with the china of the united English and American families. The most precious are pieces used by Colonel William Prescott in his ancient home. A large share of richly carved furniture is in use to-day, as it was when brought across the water for judge William Prescott, when setting up housekeeping with his beautiful bride, Catherine G. Hickling. On the right of the front hall of the original house is the spacious library of to-day, full of the reminders of the historian, whose sweet and thoughtful features are represented in a lifelike bust in marble. Hundreds of volumes suggest his struggle over his invaluable histories. After winding up the staircase with its ancient wainscoting of oak, one enters the room where the historian did much of his indefatigable labor. The peculiar arrangement for light reminds the visitor of the story of the crust of bread thrown by a careless student, which caused the historian to lose the sight of one eye forever.
      In all the vivid reminders of the successive generations of the family, there is nothing to be seen that more forcibly recalls the hero of Bunker Hill than the brass door-knocker, so often manipulated by the old soldiers when calling upon the colonel, their leader, and the rude chair, with its wooden seat and arms, in which Colonel Prescott

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was in the habit of sitting when he entertained his friends by the crackling fire.
      So free-handed was the colonel that he never refused anything asked by a soldier who fought under his command. Hence the colonel left his estate in debt, which his son, the judge, cleared, and transmitted, in all its rural beauty, to later generations.

"Pleas'd with his guests, the good man learn'd to glow, And quite forgot their vices in their woe; Careless their merits or their faults to scan, His pity gale ere charity began. Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride, And even his failings lean'd to virtue's side."

[Photo of tablet marking the spot where John Shattuck and his son, John were killed by Indians]

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