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cils were held, where the air still trembles and burns with Otis and Sam Adams? Except the Holy City, is there any more m into one thunderbolt, and launched it at George III. Here Otis magnetized every boy into a desperate rebel. Here the fit ngling spurs that dreamed Warren could be awed to silence. Otis's blood immortalizes State Street, just below where Attucks these walls received as real a consecration when Adams and Otis dedicated them to liberty. We do not come here because theof the sublime and sturdy religious enthusiasm of Adams; of Otis's passionate eloquence and single-hearted devotion; of Warrasses in this terrestrial sphere, that Adams and Warren and Otis are to-day bending over us, asking that the scene of their stand, if only to remind us that, in those days, Adams and Otis, advocates of the newest and extremest liberty, found theird, nor the clamor for wider streets will ever desecrate what Adams and Warren and Otis made sacred to the liberties of man!
the uprising which hurled slavery to the dust. It was young men who dreamed dreams over patriot graves,--enthusiasts wrapped in memories! Marble, gold, and granite are not real; the only actual reality is an idea. Gentlemen, I remember,--Mr. Chairman, you will remember, also,--that some six months ago the mayor and aldermen debated how they should use some eighteen or twenty thousand dollars left them by Jonathan Phillips to ornament the streets of Boston; and then the city government deciople a statue of the great mayor, Josiah Quincy, to whom this city owes so much. It was a very worthy vote under those circumstances; but: if the great mayor were living to-day, he would be he-e with the Massachusetts — yes, he would be here, Mr. Chairman, with the Massachusetts Historical Society in his right hand, and the Mechanic Association in the other, and he would protest against the use of a dollar of that money for his personal honor until it had been first used to save this immortal l
s. Lingering here still are the echoes of those clashing sabres and jingling spurs that dreamed Warren could be awed to silence. Otis's blood immortalizes State Street, just below where Attucks fellhose cannon-ball struck Brattle-Street Church. At your feet the sod is greener for the blood of Warren, which settled it forever that no more laws were to be made for us in London. The thrill you fedy religious enthusiasm of Adams; of Otis's passionate eloquence and single-hearted devotion; of Warren in his young genius and enthusiasm; of a plain, unaffected, but high-souled people who ventured he spirits above us are permitted to know what passes in this terrestrial sphere, that Adams and Warren and Otis are to-day bending over us, asking that the scene of their immortal labors shall not be canker the heart of such a people. Once in their hands, neither need, greed, nor the clamor for wider streets will ever desecrate what Adams and Warren and Otis made sacred to the liberties of man!
John Brown (search for this): chapter 21
ch perpetuate that Boston, then rebaptize her Cottonville or Shoetown. Don't belittle these memories; they lie long hid, but only to grow stronger. You mobbed John Brown meetings in 1860, and seemed to forget him in 1861; but the boys in blue, led by that very mob, wearing epaulets, marched from State Street to the Gulf, because John Brown's soul was marching on. That and the flag — only two memories, two sentiments--led the ranks. My friend has told you that the church has removed its altar; we submit. God is not worshipped in temples builded with men's hands; and when their tower lifted itself in proud beauty to the heavens, and varied stone and t is a statue of Cicero compared to standing where your voice echoes from pillar and wall that actually heard his philippics! How much better than a picture of John Brown is the sight of that Blue Ridge which filled his eye, when, riding to the scaffold, he said calmly to his jailer, This is a beautiful country; I never noticed i
Paul Revere (search for this): chapter 21
le busy bee Improve each shining hour, And gather honey all the day From every opening flower. It is industry; it is thrift; it is comfort; it is wealth. But on Bunker Hill let somebody point out to you the church-tower whose lantern told Paul Revere that Middlesex was to be invaded. Search till your eye rests on this tiny spire which trembled once when the mock Indian whoop bade England defiance. There is the elm where Washington first drew his sword. Here Winter Hill, whose cannon-badit to the great mayor — let no one tear a leaf from his well-earned laurels! but it was the mechanics of Boston that threw tea into the dock; it was the mechanics of Boston that held up the hands of Sam Adams; it was the mechanics of Boston, Paul Revere one of them, that made the Green Dragon immortal,--and I would take that eighteen thousand dollars and add fifty thousand more, and let the city preserve this building as a Mechanics' Exchange for all time. The merchants have their gilded roo
shut, and its commerce annihilated. It was Sam Adams and John Hancock who enjoy the everlasting rsion between England and the Colonies. Here Sam Adams, the ablest and ripest statesman God gave tohese old walls echoed the people's shout, when Adams brought them word that Governor Hutchinson surese walls received as real a consecration when Adams and Otis dedicated them to liberty. We do notthe sublime and sturdy religious enthusiasm of Adams; of Otis's passionate eloquence and single-heaw what passes in this terrestrial sphere, that Adams and Warren and Otis are to-day bending over usand, if only to remind us that, in those days, Adams and Otis, advocates of the newest and extremesechanics of Boston that held up the hands of Sam Adams; it was the mechanics of Boston, Paul Revere the message of the mechanics of Boston that Sam Adams carried to the governor and to Congress. Thmor for wider streets will ever desecrate what Adams and Warren and Otis made sacred to the liberti[1 more...]
Hugh Peters (search for this): chapter 21
hich, in the stirring history of the most momentous change the world has seen, placed Boston in the van. Naturally, therefore, in our streets and neighborhood came the earliest collision between England and the Colonies. Here Sam Adams, the ablest and ripest statesman God gave to the epoch, forecast those measures which welded thirteen Colonies into one thunderbolt, and launched it at George III. Here Otis magnetized every boy into a desperate rebel. Here the fit successors of Knox and Hugh Peters consecrated their pulpits to the defence of that doctrine of the freedom and sacredness of man which the State borrowed so directly from the Christian Church. The towers of the North Church rallied the farmers to the Lexington and Concord fights; and these old walls echoed the people's shout, when Adams brought them word that Governor Hutchinson surrendered and withdrew the red-coats. Lingering here still are the echoes of those clashing sabres and jingling spurs that dreamed Warren cou
outh! What does Boston mean? Since 1630, the living fibre running through history which owns that name, means jealousy of power, unfettered speech, keen sense of justice, readiness to champion any good cause. That is the Boston Laud suspected, North hated, and the negro loved. If you destroy the scenes which perpetuate that Boston, then rebaptize her Cottonville or Shoetown. Don't belittle these memories; they lie long hid, but only to grow stronger. You mobbed John Brown meetings in 1860, and seemed to forget him in 1861; but the boys in blue, led by that very mob, wearing epaulets, marched from State Street to the Gulf, because John Brown's soul was marching on. That and the flag — only two memories, two sentiments--led the ranks. My friend has told you that the church has removed its altar; we submit. God is not worshipped in temples builded with men's hands; and when their tower lifted itself in proud beauty to the heavens, and varied stone and rich woods furnished a
June 4th, 1876 AD (search for this): chapter 21
The old South meeting House (1876). An address delivered in the Old South Meeting-House, June 4, 1876, and revised by Mr. Phillips. It was in this building that he made his last public address,--the tribute to Harriet Martineau, which closes this volume,--December 26, 1883. Ladies and Gentlemen: Why are we here to-day? Why should this relic, a hundred years old, stir your pulses to-day so keenly? We sometimes find a community or an individual with their hearts set on some old roof or great scene; and as we look on, it seems to us an exaggerated feeling, a fond conceit, an unfounded attachment, too emphatic value set on some ancient thing or spot which memory endears to them. But we have a right to-day — this year we have a right beyond all question, and with no possibility of exaggerating the importance of the hour — to ask the world itself to pause when this nation completes the first hundred years of its life; because these forty millions of people have at last achieve
ince 1630, the living fibre running through history which owns that name, means jealousy of power, unfettered speech, keen sense of justice, readiness to champion any good cause. That is the Boston Laud suspected, North hated, and the negro loved. If you destroy the scenes which perpetuate that Boston, then rebaptize her Cottonville or Shoetown. Don't belittle these memories; they lie long hid, but only to grow stronger. You mobbed John Brown meetings in 1860, and seemed to forget him in 1861; but the boys in blue, led by that very mob, wearing epaulets, marched from State Street to the Gulf, because John Brown's soul was marching on. That and the flag — only two memories, two sentiments--led the ranks. My friend has told you that the church has removed its altar; we submit. God is not worshipped in temples builded with men's hands; and when their tower lifted itself in proud beauty to the heavens, and varied stone and rich woods furnished a new shelter for the descendants of
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