Chapter 8
Johnny Gets a Degree, and Loses Two Friends
The day was damp and misty. Johnny rode through the countryside with Aunt Lydia in their new yellow coach.
They were on their way to Cambridge and Harvard College. Johnny was thirteen and ready to take his entrance examinations there.
It would have been shorter to go by ferry across the Charles River. But the flat raft used as a ferry was unsafe for Aunt Lydia and the big coach.
Johnny shifted uneasily on the scarlet cushions. How he wished Uncle Tom hadn’t been kept at home with his gout!
“What will the other fellows think,” he wondered, “of my coming to the college with a coach and an aunt?”
He sighed. “If only Sam Quincy could have come today instead of tomorrow!”
He scratched his head. His wig itched. Now that he was soon to be in college, Aunt Lydia said he had to wear a wig.
“Don’t fidget so!” Aunt Lydia said.
“Yes, ma’am.” He had been told what to expect today by Ned Quincy, who was already going to college. Four tutors and President Holyoke of Harvard would ask him questions. The questions would be in Latin and he must answer in Latin. Then he must change English into Latin and Greek.
He had his head out the open window as the coach neared Cambridge Common. The College faced the Common. A fence enclosed the College’s three long brick buildings, which surrounded a square of land called the “yard.” This yard was bare except for a large elm tree.
The coach stopped in front of a building. “Here’s Harvard Hall, where I’m to report, Auntie,” Johnny said.
“I’ll rest at the inn,” Aunt Lydia said. “Don’t fret. You’ll do well, John.”
Johnny gave her a smile, although he felt shaky inside. “Yes, ma’am, I’ll try.”
He went in alone. About fifteen boys were sitting on benches, awaiting their turns. Some looked very young and frightened. Others tried not to look uneasy. They seemed to be from twelve to eighteen years of age.
When his turn came, Johnny walked into a room paneled in wood. The President stood by a desk, wearing a black silk gown and a white bib collar. He bowed and so did Johnny.
“Ah! It’s-ah-John Hancock?” He looked at the list on his desk. “I know your uncle. He’s been most kind to our college.”
“Yes, sir.” Johnny let out his breath.
Then two teachers in black gowns and white wigs stepped forward and began to ask questions in Latin. Finally one of them gave Johnny a paper written in English. “Change this into Latin. You may use the study next door.”
Johnny didn’t learn how well he did in his work, but he was told later to make a copy of the college laws. Then he was told to bring his copy of the laws with him in August and he would be entered as a freshman.
Aunt Lydia was delighted. “I knew you could do it! Now we must return to Boston at once. If your uncle’s gout improves, we shall come back for Commencement Day next week. Would you like that, John?”
“Wonderful!” Johnny said. “Aunt Lydia, I feel so much better, now that it’s over. I could dance a jig!”
The Hancocks almost always came to Cambridge for Commencement Day. That was the day on which seniors were graduated from college. Held the second week in July, it was the biggest holiday in Massachusetts. Everyone in the colony was proud of Harvard College.
Uncle Thomas was well enough to go to Cambridge the next week. The Hancocks came in their best satins and brocades. Uncle Tom sported gold buttons and gold shoe buckles. Aunt Lydia’s hoop skirt was so large that Johnny and his uncle barely could squeeze into the big yellow coach.
At eleven o’clock Johnny stood outside the Meeting House. He felt warm in his peach-colored satin coat and blue satin breeches.
The church bell began to ring. Then he heard fifes and music. “Here they come!” people gathered before the church murmured.
Johnny watched in awe as all the students marched into the church. After them came President Holyoke, then the Royal Governor and other important people. All were dressed in bright silks and velvets or red and gold uniforms.
“You and your uncle have been given front row seats,” Aunt Lydia whispered as she and Johnny and Uncle Tom pushed through the crowd into the church. (Image 8.1)
Image 8.1: Uncle Thomas was well enough to go to Cambridge
the next week. The Hancocks came in their best satins and brocades.
Johnny could see that she was pleased. She went happily upstairs to sit with the other ladies in the balcony.
After many speeches, the black-robed seniors were given their bachelor of arts degrees. “Will I ever learn enough to win one, too?” Johnny wondered.
He glanced back at Sam Quincy, who sat in the row behind him. Sam looked back solemnly, and then slowly winked.
Johnny almost giggled. “If Sam isn’t worried, why should I be?” He sat back and waited for the end of the program. Then he could enjoy the acrobats and dancing on the Common and the dinner that would follow.
“Another month and I’ll be part of all this!” he thought.
“Freshman Hancock! Oh, Hancock!” Thirteen-year-old Johnny felt someone shaking him.
“What? What?” He sat up in his narrow bed and rubbed his eyes.
A Harvard sophomore, a second-year man, stood over him. He wore a black gown with a plaid lining and held a fuzzy wig in his hands. “Take this over to the barber’s to be curled before breakfast,” he ordered.
“Before breakfast?” Johnny was dismayed. That meant he wouldn’t have time to eat at the Buttery. All the college students snatched a bite of biscuit and milk there. “Yes, sir,” he groaned. He watched the sophomore strut out of the room with a pleased smile.
Johnny was a new Harvard student. He was bound not only by the school rules but also by the class rules. A freshman had to obey every upper classman.
His day started with church at six in the morning. At 6:30 he went to his first class. After that came breakfast, then more classes.
He ate dinner in the “Commons,” a large eating hall. He washed his meat and vegetables down with cider. The cider was passed from person to person in two huge pewter mugs, which were scoured only once a week.
His afternoons from two o’clock until supper Johnny spent in study. After a supper of meat pie or bread and milk, he studied in his room.
“This isn’t the exciting life I’d thought it would be,” Johnny said to Sam Quincy as they settled down for an evening’s reading.
In December of that year he was called to Lexington, for Grandfather Hancock had suddenly died. Johnny hired a horse at the stables and galloped over the snow-covered roads.
At the parsonage he greeted his family. His mother had come with her husband, Parson Daniel Perkins. Sister Mary was there, too, and schoolboy Ebenezer. Parson Perkins’s son, Richard, had eyes for no one but sister Mary.
“How tall you’ve grown this past year,” Mother said. She patted Johnny proudly.
“So handsome, too,” Mary teased.
Johnny stood up and made a deep bow. “Thank you, ladies,” he said jokingly, but his thin cheeks turned red.
“John is a good student at Harvard,” Uncle Tom said proudly. “He will be a help to me in my business.”
After the funeral Johnny returned to school. For the next two years he continued to study Latin, Greek, religion, and famous English writers. In his fourth and last year he studied arithmetic, geometry, and geography.
Just before he finished college his sister Mary married Richard Perkins. Then all the family came to Cambridge on July 17, 1754, to enjoy Johnny’s graduation. He was seventeen.
Uncle Tom took Johnny into his business at once as a clerk. He had a desk by a window looking out on the docks. Around the corner was the noisy market square.
“Rattle, thump, rum-te-tum!” Johnny muttered as he dipped his quill pen into his inkhorn one day. “How can anyone think?”
He was making copies of all the business orders which Uncle Tom sent to England and Europe. These copies were kept in a “letter book.” Often several copies of a letter were sent on different ships. Sometimes ships were lost or captured during a war.
“Whatever became of your clerk, Tim O’Toole?” Johnny asked his uncle one day. “I thought he was your best clerk.”
“Aye, so he was. But he wanted to start his own shop, so I helped him to do it. He’s getting along fine, too.”
“I’m glad to hear it. I must call on him. You were always good about helping young men in business, Uncle Tom.”
During the next few years Johnny worked hard to learn the vast Hancock business. Uncle Tom had spells of gout, and the work fell more and more on Johnny’s shoulders.
War with France was brewing again, for France wanted the Ohio River country. Uncle Tom got orders to supply the British troops in the colonies. His ships began to collect army supplies from England and various places along the coast. Soon England declared war on France. (Image 8.2)
Image 8.2: “It’s an honor to meet you, Major,” nineteen-year-old
Johnny said with a bow.
One night Uncle Tom brought home a young army officer from Virginia. He was taller than Johnny and had merry blue eyes and powdered, reddish hair.
“This is Major George Washington,” Uncle Tom said. “He fought with General Braddock out in the Ohio country.”
“It’s an honor to meet you, Major,” nineteen-year-old Johnny said with a bow. He felt honored indeed. Major Washington had had two horses shot from under him during the fight. If it had not been for him, Braddock’s defeat by the French and Indians would have been even worse.
The young Major told Johnny that he had come to talk to the Massachusetts Governor about fighting the French. “The British must learn to fight from behind trees as the Indians do,” he said. “Then we can win.”
“Heh, I’ll see that the Governor heeds that advice, young man,” Uncle Tom said with a nod. “We have to protect our settlers, and we must take Fort Louisburg again.”
Two years later, in 1758, Fort Louisburg was recaptured. Then, on a bright September day, General Amherst and his four thousand troops returned to Boston and camped on the Common. All Boston welcomed them.
“This time we’ll keep Fort Louisburg,” everyone said happily. “The St. Lawrence River is open. France’s power in America is broken.”
The next morning Johnny came down the stone steps of his house. He heard drums and fifes sounding briskly over the Common.
“I want to go to the British Coffee House for dinner this noon,” he told Uncle Tom. “I’d like to hear firsthand about the capture of Louisburg. Surely some of the officers will be there today.”
“Aye, John, go along,” Uncle Tom said. “I have government business at the Town House. Be sure to ask after Lieutenant Tim O’Toole.”
That noon Johnny sat at a table in the crowded inn and talked to several young officers. “Didn’t you know Lieutenant Timothy O’Toole?” he said to one officer he knew.
The young man looked sad. “Yes, I knew him. He was killed, I’m sorry to say.”
“Killed!” Johnny was shocked. He wet his lips and swallowed hard. “This is terrible news. I knew him a long time ago.”
“He went out with a patrol of scouts. There was an Indian along by the name of Little Turtle. They were caught by a French patrol, but they gave warning in time for the rest of our patrol to escape.”
“Little Turtle, too!” Johnny shook his head. How odd that two friends from childhood should die together! His eyes grew dim and he pushed away his pewter plate.
“If only England hadn’t been so stupid and given Fort Louisburg back to the French that first time!” he said bitterly. “My friends might not have had to die now.”
The British officers frowned, but Johnny didn’t care. He didn’t even notice them.