# Scenes in my Native Land/The Charter-Oak, at Hartford

THE CHARTER-OAK, AT HARTFORD,
TO THE GREAT OAK OF GENESEO.
Glorious Patriarch of the West!
Often have mine ears been blest
With some tale from traveller wight,
Of thy majesty and might,
Rearing high, on column proud,
Massy verdure toward the cloud,
While thy giant branches throw
Coolness o'er the vales below.
Humbler rank, indeed, is mine,
Yet I boast a kindred line,
And though Nature spared to set
On my head thy coronet,
Still, from history's scroll I claim
Somewhat of an honored name;
So, I venture, kingly tree,
Thus to bow myself to thee.
Once there came, in days of yore,
A minion from the mother shore,
With men at arms, and flashing eye
Of pre-determined tyranny, High words he spake, and stretched his hand
Young Freedom's charter to demand.
But lo! it vanished from his sight,
And sudden darkness fell like night,
While baffled still, in wrath and pain,
He, groping, sought the prize in vain;
For a brave hand, in trust to me, Had given that germ of liberty,
And like our relative of old,
Who clasped his arms serenely bold
Around the endangered prince, who fled
The scaffold where his father bled,
I hid it, safe from storm and blast, Until the days of dread were past, And then my faithful breast restored
The treasure to its rightful lord.
For this, do pilgrims seek my side,
And artists sketch my varying pride,
And far away o'er ocean's brine,
An acorn or a leaf of mine
I hear are stored as relics rich
In antiquarian's classic niche.
Now if I were but in my prime,
Some hundred lustrums less of time
Upon my brow, perchance such charm
Of flattery might have wrought me harm,
Made the young pulse too wildly beat,
Or woke the warmth of self-conceit.
But age, slow curdling through my veins,
All touch of arrogance restrains.
For pride, alas! and boastful trust
Are not for trees, which root in dust,
Nor men, who ere their noontide ray,
Oft like our wind-swept leaves decay.
Yet not unscathed, have centuries sped
Their course around my hoary head,
My gouty limbs for ease I strain,
And twist my gnarled roots in vain,
And still beneath the wintry sky
These stricken branches quake and sigh,
Which erst in manly vigor sent
Stout challenge to each element.
But lingering memories haunt my brain,
And hover round the past, in vain, Of chiefs and tribes who here had sway, Then vanished like the mist away. Near river's marge, by verdure cheered,
Their humble, bowery homes they reared,
At night, their council-fires were red, At dawn, the greenwood chase they sped;— But now, the deer, that bounded high,
Amid his forest canopy,
The stag, that nobly stood at bay,
The thicket where at noon he lay,
And they, whose flying arrow stirred
And staid the fleetest of the herd,
All, like the bubbles on the stream, Have mingled with oblivion's dream.
A different race usurped my glade,
Whose cheek the Saxon blood betrayed,
And he, the master of this dome,
Within whose gates I found my home,
With stately step and bearing cold,
The poor red-featured throng controlled,
And their mad orgies hashed to fear
Through pealing trump whose echoes clear
At midnight full of terror came,
With the Great Spirit's awful name.
Too soon those sires, sedate and grave, Recede on Time's unresting wave, And hospitality sincere,
And virtues simple and severe,
And deep respect for ancient sway
Methinks, with them, have past away.
That honesty, which scorned of old
The traffic of unrighteous gold, Drank from the well its crystal pure, And left the silver cup secure,
Seems now submerged, with struggles vain, In wild desire of sudden gain,
Or lost in wealth's unhallowed pride,
By patient toil unsanctified.
Change steals o'er all; the bark canoe
No longer cleaves the streamlet blue,
Nor even the flying wheel retains
Its ancient prowess o'er the plains;
The horse, with nerves of iron frame,
Whose breath is smoke, whose food is flame,
Surmounts the earth with fearful sweep,
And strangely rules the cleaving deep,
While they, who once, at sober pace,
Reflecting rode, from place to place,
Now, with rash speed and brains that swim,
In reckless plans, resemble him.
But yet, I would not cloud my strain,
Nor think the world is in its wane,
For 't is the fault of age, they say,
Its own decadence to betray, By ceaseless blame of things that are, So, of this frailty I'll beware, And keep my blessings full in sight, While in this land of peace and light, Where liberty and plenty dwell,
And knowledge seeks the lowliest cell,
No woodman's steel my heart invades, Nor heathen footsteps track my shades.
Yet too expansive grows the lay,
Forgive its egotism, I pray,
And should'st thou in thy goodness deign,
A line responsive to my strain,
Fain would I of their welfare hear,
That group of noble souls, and dear,
Who from their eastern birth-place prest,
To choose a mansion in the west.
Reluctant from our home and heart,
We saw those stalwart forms depart,
And if amid thy vallies green,
Thou aught of them hast heard or seen,
And will impart that lore to me,
Right welcome shall thy missive be.
 And now, may Spring, that decks the plains, With kindling fervor touch thy veins,
And Summer smile with healthful skies,
And Autumn pour her thousand dies,
And many a year stern Winter spare
Thee in thy glory, fresh and fair,
Thy gratitude to heaven to show
By deeds of love to those below,
A mighty shade from noontide heat, When pilgrims halt, or strangers greet,
Through woven leaves, a pleasant sound,
When murmuring breezes sigh around,
And many a nest for minstrel fair
That sing God's praise in upper air:
So may'st thou blessing live, and blest, Monarch and Patriarch of the West.
The venerable Tree, at Hartford, Connecticut, known by the name of the "Charter-Oak," has, for more than a century and a half, enjoyed the honor of having protected the endangered instrument of liberty and of law. When the despotic principles of James 2d revealed themselves in the mother country and extended to her colonies, Sir Edmund Andross, the governor of Massachusetts, determined to comprehend within his own jurisdiction the whole of New England and New York. One step towards this ambitious design, was to gain possession of the Charter of Connecticut, which had been granted by Charles 2d soon after the Restoration. To enforce his arbitrary policy, he made his appearance in Hartford, with his suite and sixty men at arms, on the 31st of October, 1687. The Assembly of the State were then in session, and evinced extreme reluctance to comply with his demands. Governor Treat spoke earnestly an eloquently of the perils which the Colony had sustained during its infancy, of the hardships which he had himself endured, and that it would be to them, and to him, like the yielding up of life, to surrender the privileges so dearly bought, and so fondly valued. The discussion was prolonged until evening, when the Charter was unwillingly produced. But the lights being suddenly extinguished, it was conveyed away by Captain Wadsworth, and secretly lodged in the cavity of that ancient Oak, which now bears its name.
​ Though Sir Edmund Andross was foiled in possessing himself of this instrument, he still proceeded to assume the government of Connecticut. He began, with protestations of regard for the welfare of the people, but his arbitrary sway so soon disclosed itself, that a historian of that period, remarked, that "Nero concealed his tyrannical disposition more years than Sir Edmund did months." The charges of public officers, during his administration, were exorbitant; the widow and fatherless, however distant or destitute, were compelled to make a journey to Boston, for all business connected with the testamentary settlement of estates; the titles of the colonists, to the lands which they had purchased, were annulled; and he declared all deeds derived from the Indians, "no better than the scratch of a bear's paw." At length, the spirit of the "Old Bay State" roused itself, determining no longer to submit to such oppression: and on the 18th of April, 1689, the Bostonians, aided by the inhabitants of their vicinity, made themselves masters of the Castle, and threw Sir Edmund and his council into prison, from whence they were remanded to England for trial.
When the abdication of James, and the establishment of William and Mary on the throne, removed the cloud from Great Britain and her dependences, the oracular Oak opened its bosom, and restored the intrusted Charter to the rejoicing people. This venerated tree stands on the domain, originally belonging ​to the Hon. Samuel Wyllys, one of the earliest magistrates and most distinguished founders of the State of Connecticut. His mansion, which was noted for its elegance, during the simplicity of colonial times, was the wonder of the roaming red man; and its surrounding grounds were laid out somewhat in imitation of the fair estate he had left in his own native Warwickshire. In its garden, anciently laid out by him, are still found apple trees bearing fruit, which he imported from Normandy 150 years since. By his virtues and dignified deportment, he acquired great influence over the Indians, whose wigwams were thickly planted in the great meadows toward the south-east and along the margin of Connecticut river. When their midnight carousals arose to such a point that a quarrel might be apprehended, he often stilled their uproar, and sent them affrighted to their homes by a few words uttered from his open window through a speaking-trumpet, in the name of their Great Spirit. Such was the security and confidence in the honesty of the people, in which that honorable and wealthy family dwelt, that till within sixty years, a large silver cup was left unharmed by a well, for the accommodation of all, who in passing through the premises, might wish to taste its waters.
The handsome modern structure of I. W. Stuart, Esq., now occupies the site of the ancient Wyllys mansion, and the venerable Charter-Oak, which is highly appreciated by its present owners, and much ​visited by strangers, preserves, though strongly marked by time, a vigorous old age. Some of its pressed leaves, or small articles made from a supernumerary branchy in the form of boxes, letter-folders, &c., are found to be acceptable gifts both to the antiquarian, and the patriot.