Dorothy also knew that there in the simple parsonage the minister's
son grew up, and together with his brother and sister enjoyed the
usual life of a child in the country. When he was seven years old his
father died, leaving very little money for the support of the widow
and three children. Thomas Hancock, his uncle, was at that time the
richest merchant in Boston, and had also married a daughter of a
prosperous bookseller who was heir to no small fortune herself. The
couple being childless, at the death of John Hancock's father they
adopted the boy, who was at once taken from the simple parsonage to
Thomas Hancock's mansion on Beacon Hill, which must have seemed like a
fairy palace to the minister's son, as he "climbed the grand steps and
entered the paneled hall with its broad staircase, carved balusters,
and a chiming clock surmounted with carved figures, gilt with
burnished gold." There were also portraits of dignitaries on the walls
of the great drawing-room, which were very impressive in their lace
ruffles and velvet costumes of the period, and many articles of
furniture of which the country boy did not even know the names.
As a matter of course, he was sent to the Boston Public Latin School,
and later to Harvard College, from which he graduated on July 17,
1754, when he was seventeen years old--at a time when pretty Dorothy
Quincy was a child of seven.
From the time of his adoption of his nephew, Thomas Hancock had
determined to have him as his successor in the shipping business he
had so successfully built up, and so, fresh from college, the young
man entered into the business life of Boston, and as the adopted son
of a rich and influential merchant, was sought after by mothers with
marriageable daughters, and by the daughters themselves, to whose
charms he was strangely indifferent.
For six years he worked faithfully and with a good judgment that
pleased his uncle, while at the same time he took part in the
amusements of the young people of Boston who belonged to the wealthy
class, and who copied their diversions from those in vogue among young
folk in London. The brilliant and fine-looking young man was in
constant demand for riding, hunting, and skating parties, or often in
winter for a sleigh-ride to some country tavern, followed by supper
and a dance; or in summer for an excursion down the harbor, a picnic
on the islands, or a tea-party in the country and a homeward drive by
moonlight. Besides these gaieties there were frequent musters of
militia, of which Hancock was a member, and he was very fond of
shooting and fishing; so with work and play he was more than busy
until he was twenty-three years old. Then his uncle sent him to London
to give him the advantages of travel and of mingling with "foreign
lords of trade and finance," and also to gain a knowledge of business
conditions in England. And so, in 1760, young Hancock arrived in
London, where he found "old Europe passing into the modern. Victory
had followed the English flag in every quarter of the globe, and a new
nation was beginning to evolve out of chaos in the American
wilderness, which was at that time England's most valuable
dependency."
While he was in London George the Second died, and his grandson
succeeded to the throne. The unwonted sight of the pomp and splendor
of a royal funeral was no slight event in the life of the young
colonist, and the keen eyes of John Hancock lost no detail of the
imposing ceremonial. He wrote home:
I am very busy in getting myself mourning upon the Occasion
of the Death of his late Majesty King George the 2d, to
which every person of any Note here Conforms, even to the
deepest Mourning.... Everything here is now very dull. All
Plays are stopt and no diversions are going forward, so that
I am at a loss how to dispose of myself....
A later letter is of interest as it shows something of the habits of a
wealthy young man of the period. "Johnny," as his uncle affectionately
calls him, writes:
I observe in your Letter you mention a Circumstance in
Regard to my dress. I hope it did not Arise from your
hearing I was too Extravagant that way, which I think they
cant Tax me with. At same time I am not Remarkable for the
Plainness of my Dress, upon proper Occasions I dress as
Genteel as anyone, and cant say I am without Lace.... I find
money some way or other goes very fast, but I think I can
Reflect it has been spent with Satisfaction, and to my own
honor.... I endeavor to be in Character in all I do, and in
all my Expences which are pretty large I have great
Satisfaction in the Reflection of their being incurred in
Honorable Company and to my Advantage.
Throughout his life good fortune followed John Hancock in matters
small and great, and it was a piece of characteristic good luck that
he should have been able to remain to see the new King's coronation.
He was also presented at Court, as a representative young colonist of
high social standing, and was given a snuff-box by His Majesty as a
token of his good-will to one of his subjects from across the sea.
Before leaving for home he learned all he could in regard to the
commercial relations between England and her colonies, and after
hearing the great orator Pitt make a stirring speech against unjust
taxation, he realized how much more daring in word and act were some
loyal British subjects than the colonists would have thought possible.
Doubtless to Pitt the young patriot-to-be owed his first inspiration
to serve the colonies, though it bore no fruit for many months.
October of 1761 found young Hancock again in Boston, and a year later
he was taken into partnership with his uncle. This gave him a still
greater vogue among the Boston belles who admired him for his strength
of character and for his fine appearance, as he was noted for being
the best dressed young man in Boston at that time. It is said that
"his taste was correct, his judgment of quality unsurpassed, and his
knowledge of fashions in London aided by recent residence there." We
are told that "a gold-laced coat of broadcloth, red, blue or violet; a
white-satin waistcoat embroidered; velvet breeches, green, lilac or
blue; white-silk stockings and shoes flashing with buckles of silver
or gold; linen trimmed with lace," made the prosperous young merchant
outshine others of his position, "and made it appear that by birth at
least he belonged to the wealthy and fashionably conservative class."
His uncle was indeed such a strong Conservative that he was unwilling
to have his adopted son show any leaning to the radical party. But
when on the first of August, 1764, Thomas Hancock died of apoplexy,
leaving his Beacon Hill mansion and fifty thousand dollars to his
widow, Lydia Hancock, and to John his warehouses, ships, and the
residue of his estate, in the twinkling of an eye the young man became
a prominent factor in the business world of the day, as the sole owner
of an extensive export and import trade. But more important to him
than the fortune which he had inherited was the knowledge that he was
now at liberty to speak and act in accordance with his own feelings in
regard to matters about which his views were slowly but surely
changing.
He was now twenty-seven years old, and on paying a flying visit to his
friend John Adams, in the home of his early childhood, attended divine
service in his father's old church, and thrilled at the glimpse he had
of Judge Quincy's youngest daughter, Dorothy, demurely leaving the
meeting-house. Dolly was then seventeen years of age, and as lovely in
her girlish beauty as any rose that ever bloomed, and John Hancock's
feeling of interest in her was far too keen to allow that glimpse to
be his last.
He and John Adams visited the Quincy homestead, and young Hancock
listened respectfully to the Judge's reminiscences of his father; but
at the same time he watched pretty Dorothy, who flitted in and out of
the room, giving no hint of her emotion at having an opportunity to
listen to the deep voice and note the clear-cut features and brilliant
eyes of the Hero of her dreams. She only cast her eyes down demurely,
glancing from under her long lashes now and again, when a remark was
addressed to her. She was quick to see that her father, while as
cordial to his visitor as good breeding demanded, yet wished him to
feel that he was not in sympathy with the radical views now openly
expressed by the young Boston merchant. Judge Quincy, as we have seen,
was a broad-minded, patriotic man, yet being by birth a staunch
Conservative, he felt it his duty to show the younger generation what
real loyalty to the mother country meant, and that it did not include
such rebellion against her commands as they were beginning to express.
However, he chatted pleasantly with Hancock and his friend Adams, and
when they took their leave, Hancock was invited both to call on the
family in Boston and to return to the Quincy homestead. Dorothy
seconded the invitation with a momentary lifting of her eyes to his,
then became demure, but in the glance that passed between them
something was given and taken which was to last for all time, and to
add its deepest joy to the future life of pretty Dorothy.
It was certainly love at first sight for John Hancock, and to the
young girl his love soon became the one worth-while thing in life.
Not many months after that first visit of John Hancock's to Dorothy's
home, he paid Judge Quincy a formal visit in Boston and asked for the
hand of his youngest daughter in marriage. As a matter of course, the
Judge was flattered, for who was a more eligible match than this rich
and handsome young Bostonian? On the other hand, he was sorry to
include one of England's rebellious subjects in his family, and he
declared so plainly. John Hancock was polite but positive, as he was
about everything, and let it be clearly understood that no objection
to his suit would make any difference in its final outcome. He and
Dorothy loved each other--that was all that really mattered. He
sincerely hoped that her father would come to approve of the match,
for he would ever consider, he said, Dorothy's happiness before his
own. But he clearly stated that he should stand by those words and
deeds of the radical party which he believed best for the colonies,
despite any effort which might be made to change any of his opinions;
also he was going to marry Dorothy. Evidently his determination won
the Judge's consent, and in giving it he smothered his objections, for
there was no further opposition to the match, and no courtship ever
gave clearer evidence of an intense devotion on both sides than that
of Hancock and Dorothy, who, being ten years younger than her Hero,
looked up to him as to some great and superior being worthy of her
heart's supreme devotion.
Political events of vital importance to the colonies happened in swift
succession, and Dorothy's Hancock quickly took his place in the front
rank of those who were to be the backbone in the colonies' struggle
for liberty, although at that time his activity against English
injustice was largely due to his wish to protect his own business
interests. In 1765 the Stamp Act was passed, and John Hancock openly
denounced it and declared he would not use the stamps.
"I will not be made a slave without my consent," he said. "Not a man
in England, in proportion to estate, pays the tax that I do."
And he stood by that declaration, becoming generally recognized as a
man of ability and of great power, on whom public duties and
responsibilities could be placed with assurance that they would be
successfully carried out. While he was deeply occupied with colonial
affairs Dorothy Quincy was busy in her home with those duties and
diversions which formed the greater part of a young woman's daily life
in those days, but always in spirit she was with her lover, and she
thrilled with pride at each new proof of his fearlessness and growing
patriotism.
In September, 1768, when it was rumored that troops had been ordered
from Halifax, in an attempt of England to quell the spirit of
independence rife among her colonists, Samuel Adams, John Hancock,
John Adams, and James Otis waited upon the Governor to ask if the
report were true, and to request him to call a special meeting of the
Assembly. He declined to do it, and a meeting of protest was held in
Faneuil Hall, with representatives from ninety-six towns present, at
which meeting it was resolved that "they would peril their lives and
their fortunes to defend their rights:" "That money cannot be granted
nor a standing army kept up in the province but by their own free
consent."
The storm was gathering, and ominous clouds hung low over the town of
Boston on a day soon after the meeting in Faneuil Hall, when seven
armed vessels from Halifax brought troops up the harbor to a wharf at
which they landed, and tramped by the sullen crowd of spectators with
colors flying, drums beating--as if entering a conquered city.
Naturally the inhabitants of Boston would give them no aid in securing
quarters, so they were obliged to camp on the Common, near enough to
Dorothy Quincy's home on Summer Street to annoy her by the noise of
their morning drills, and to make her realize in what peril her
lover's life would be if he became more active in public affairs at
this critical period.
If any stimulus to John Hancock's growing patriotism was needed it was
given on the tenth of June, when one of his vessels, a new sloop, the
_Liberty_, arrived in port with a cargo of Madeira wine, the duty on
which was much larger than on other wines. "The collector of the port
was so inquisitive about the cargo, that the crew locked him below
while it was swung ashore and a false bill of entry made out, after an
evasive manner into which importers had fallen of late. Naturally
enough, when the collector was released from the hold, he reported the
outrage to the commander of one of the ships which had brought troops
from Halifax, and he promptly seized the _Liberty_ and moved it under
his ship's guns to prevent its recapture by Bostonians." This was one
of the first acts of violence in the days preceding the struggle for
Independence in Massachusetts.
While John Hancock was so fully occupied with public matters, he yet
found time to see his Dolly frequently, and her sorrow was his when in
1769 Mrs. Quincy died, and Dorothy, after having had her protecting
love and care for twenty-two years, was left motherless. The young
girl was no coward, and her brave acceptance of the sorrow won her
lover even more completely than before, while his Aunt Lydia, who had
become deeply attached to pretty Dorothy, and was eager to have her
adopted son's romance end happily, lavished much care and affection on
the girl and insisted that she visit her home on Beacon Hill
frequently. Possibly, too, Aunt Lydia may have been uneasy lest Judge
Quincy, left without the wise counsels of his wife, might insist that
his daughter sever her connection with such a radical as Hancock had
become. In any case, after her mother's death, Dorothy spent much of
her time with her lover's Aunt Lydia, and Hancock was much envied for
the charms of his vivacious bride-to-be. In fact, it has been said
that "not to have been attracted to Dorothy Quincy would have argued a
heart of steel," of which there are but few. To her lover she was all
and more than woman had ever been before, in charm and grace and
beauty, and he who among men was noted for his stern resolve and
unyielding demeanor was as wax in the hands of the young woman, who
ruled him with gentle tyranny.
To Dorothy her lover was handsome and brilliant beyond even the Hero
of her girlish dreams; her love was too sacred for expression, even to
him who was its rightful possessor. He appealed to her in a hundred
ways, she delighted in his "distinguished presence, his inborn
courtesy, his scrupulous toilets;" she adored him for "his devotion to
those he loved, his unusual generosity to friends and inferiors," and
she thrilled at the thought of his patriotism, his rapid advancement.
And if, as has been said, crowds were swayed by his magnetism, what
wonder that it touched and captivated Dorothy Quincy, the object of
his heart's deepest devotion?
On the fifth of March, 1770, British soldiers fired on a crowd in the
streets of Boston, and the riot that ensued, in which the killing of
six and the injury to a half-dozen more, was dignified by the name of
a "Massacre." Blood was now at boiling-point, and the struggle between
the mother country and her colonists had commenced. Private meetings
were beginning to be held for public action, and John Adams, Samuel
Adams, John Hancock, and Josiah Quincy, a nephew of Dorothy's father,
and an ardent believer in American liberty, were among the leading
spirits who took notice of every infringement of rights on the part of
the government and its agents. In the House of Representatives they
originated almost every measure for the public good, and the people
believed them to be the loyal guardians of their rights and
privileges.
John Hancock, who at first had stood out against taxation without
representation because of his own business interests, now stood firmly
for American Independence for the good of the majority, with little
left of the self-seeking spirit which had animated his earlier
efforts. Occupied as he now was with the many duties incident on a
public life, it is said he was never too busy to redress a wrong, and
never unwilling to give lavishly where there was need, and Dorothy
Quincy rejoiced as she noted that many measures for the good of the
country were stamped with her lover's name.
On the very day of the so-called "Boston Massacre" Great Britain
repealed an Act recently passed which had placed a heavy duty on many
articles of import. That tax was now lifted from all articles except
tea, on which it was retained, to maintain the right of Parliament to
tax the colonies, and to show the King's determination to have his
way.
"In resistance of this tax the Massachusetts colonists gave up
drinking their favorite beverage and drank coffee in its place. The
King, angry at this rebellion against the dictates of Parliament,
refused to lift the tax, and tea was shipped to America as if there
were no feeling against its acceptance. In New York, Philadelphia, and
Charleston mass-meetings of the people voted that the agents to whom
it had been shipped should be ordered to resign their offices. At
Philadelphia the tea-ship was met and sent back to England without
being allowed to come to anchor. At Charleston the tea was landed, but
as there was no one there to receive it, or pay the duty, it was
thrown into a damp cellar and left there to spoil. In Boston things
were managed differently. When the _Dartmouth_, tea-laden, sailed into
the harbor, the ship, with two others which soon arrived and anchored
near the _Dartmouth_, was not allowed to dock."
A meeting of citizens was hastily called, and a resolution adopted
that "tea on no account should be allowed to land." The tea-ships were
guarded by a committee of Boston patriots who refused to give permits
for the vessels to return to England with their cargoes. Then came
what has been called Boston's "picturesque refusal to pay the tax." As
night fell Samuel Adams rose in a mass-meeting and said, "This
meeting can do nothing more to save the country." As the words fell
from his lips there was a shout in the street and a group of forty men
disguised as "Mohawks" darted past the door and down to the wharves,
followed by the people. Rushing on board the tea-ships, the disguised
citizens set themselves to cleaning the vessels of their cargoes. As
one of them afterward related: "We mounted the ships and _made tea in
a trice_. This done, I mounted my team and went home, as an honest man
should."
Twilight was gathering when the Indian masqueraders began their work,
and it was nearly three hours later when their task was done. Boston
Harbor was a great teapot, with the contents of three hundred and
forty-two chests broken open and their contents scattered on the quiet
water. A sharp watch was kept that none of it should be stolen, but a
few grains were shaken out of a shoe, which may be seen to-day in a
glass jar in Memorial Hall, Boston. And this was the famous "Boston
Tea-Party"!
Men's passions were now aroused to fever heat, and the actions of the
patriots were sharply resented by the conservatives who upheld the
government, while the radicals were fighting for the rights of the
people. In all the acts of overt rebellion with which John Hancock's
name was constantly connected he was loyally and proudly upheld by his
Dorothy, who, despite her inborn coquetry, daily became better fitted
to be the wife of a man such as John Hancock.
But though she stood by him so bravely in all his undertakings, and
would not have had him recede one step from the stand he had taken,
yet there was much to alarm her. Because of his connection with the
Boston Tea-Party, and other acts of rebellion, the soldiers of the
crown had distributed royalist hand-bills broadcast, with this
heading:
"TO THE SOLDIERS OF HIS MAJESTY'S TROOPS IN BOSTON"
There followed a list of the authors of the rebellion, among whom
were Samuel Adams, John Hancock, and Josiah Quincy. The hand-bill also
announced that "it was probable that the King's standard would soon be
erected," and continued: "The friends of our king and country and of
America hope and expect it from you soldiers the instant rebellion
happens, that you will put the above persons immediately to the sword,
destroy their houses and plunder their effects. It is just they should
be the first victims to the mischiefs they have brought upon us."
Reason enough for Hancock's Dorothy to be apprehensive, beneath her
show of bravery!
In January, 1775, the patriots made an effort to show that they were
still loyal subjects, for they sent a petition from the Continental
Congress to the King, wherein they asked "but for peace, liberty and
safety," and stated that "your royal authority over us, and our
connection with Great Britain, we shall always carefully and zealously
endeavor to support and maintain."
Despite this the oppressions increased, and the persistent roughness
of the British troops continued unchecked. In March an inhabitant of
Billerica, Massachusetts, was tarred and feathered by a party of his
majesty's soldiers. A remonstrance was sent to General Gage, the
king's chosen representative in the colony, in which was this clause:
"We beg, Your Excellency that the breach, now too wide, between Great
Britain and this province may not, by such brutality of the troops,
still be increased.... If it continues, we shall hereafter use a
different style from that of petition and complaint."
In reply from London came the news that seventy-eight thousand guns
and bayonets were on their way to America. Also came a report that
orders had gone out to arrest John Hancock, William Otis, and six
other head men of Boston. The informant, a friend of Hancock's,
added: "My heart aches for Mr. Hancock. Send off expresses immediately
to tell him that they intend to seize his estate, and have his fine
house for General...."
April of 1775 came, and the Provincial Congress met at Concord,
Massachusetts, and took upon itself the power to make and carry out
laws. Immediately General Gage issued a proclamation stating that the
Congress was "an unlawful assembly, tending to subvert government and
to lead directly to sedition, treason, and rebellion.
"And yet even in the face of such an ominous outlook the indefatigable
Massachusetts patriots continued to struggle for their ideal of
independence. John Adams, himself a patriot of the highest class,
asserted that Samuel Adams, John Hancock, and James Otis were the
three most important characters of the day, and Great Britain knew it.
Certainly all four men were feared in the mother country, and
Hancock's independence of the government brought several suits against
him." Like those of his co-workers for freedom from tyranny, his
nerves were now strung to the highest tension, and he spent many a
sleepless night planning how best to achieve his high purposes and
grim resolves, while his love for pretty Dorothy was the one green
spot in the arid desert of colonial strife.
Boston was no longer a safe place for those who could change it for a
more peaceful place of residence. Judge Quincy, who had been keeping a
close watch over his own business affairs, now decided to leave for
Lancaster, where his married daughter, Mrs. Greenleaf, lived. All
homes were completely disorganized, and by the time the Judge decided
to leave most of his friends had already gone, taking their household
goods with them out of harm's way. All social life was ended, and it
was indeed a suitable prelude to a grim period of American history.
When the Judge decided to take refuge in Lancaster, the question was,
should Dorothy go, too? Her lover was in Concord, where the Provincial
Congress was in session. Knowing the condition of affairs in Boston,
he had not returned to his home during the intermissions of the
session, finding it more convenient to stay in Concord and spend his
Sundays in Lexington, where he and John Adams were warmly welcomed at
the home of the Rev. Jonas Clark, a Hancock cousin.
Now, when Hancock heard of Judge Quincy's plan to leave Boston for
Lancaster, he wrote immediately to his Aunt Lydia and made an appeal
calculated to touch a much more stony heart than hers. Would she take
his Dolly under her protection until the state of colonial affairs
should become more peaceful? Boston was no place for a woman who could
be out of it; but on the other hand, neither was a town as far away as
Lancaster a suitable retreat for a girl with a lover who might get
only occasional glimpses of her there. Would his _dear_ aunt please
call on Judge Quincy, and, after putting the matter squarely before
him, try to bring his Dolly away to Lexington with her? The Rev. Mr.
Clark would welcome them as warmly as he and Adams had been received,
and give them a comfortable home as long as necessary. Would his aunt
not do this for him? As a final appeal he added that if General Gage
should carry out his intention of seizing Adams and himself, he might
have a few more chances to see the girl he loved.
Aunt Lydia was quick in her response. Of course she would do as he
wished. It would be far better for the motherless girl to be under her
protection at this time than with any one else, and she could
understand perfectly her nephew's desire to be under the same roof
even for a brief time with his dear Dolly. She would see the Judge
immediately.
At once her stately coach was ordered out, and soon it rolled up
before the Quincy door to set down Aunt Lydia, intent on achieving her
end. And she did. Although the Judge was not altogether pleased with
the idea of being separated from Dorothy, he saw the wisdom of the
plan and assented to it. Dorothy, with a girl's light-heartedness at
the prospect of a change, especially one which meant seeing her lover,
hastily packed up enough clothing for use during a brief visit. Then
she said an affectionate farewell to her father, little dreaming what
an eventful separation it was to be, and rode away by the side of Aunt
Lydia, who was delighted that she had been able to so successfully
manage the Judge, and that she was to have cheerful Dorothy for a
companion during days of dark depression.
To Lexington they went, and as John Hancock had predicted, the Rev.
Mr. Clark gave them a cordial welcome. Hancock was there to greet
them, and with great satisfaction the elder woman saw the lovers'
rapturous meeting, and knew that her diplomacy had brought this joy to
them.
When the excitement of the meeting had somewhat subsided, they talked
long and earnestly of the critical situation, and Dorothy, with her
hand clasped close in her lover's, heard with sudden terror of a rumor
that General Gage intended to seize Adams and Hancock at the earliest
opportunity. But roses bloomed in her cheeks again as she declared,
proudly: "I have no fear! You will be clever enough to evade them. No
cause as worthy as yours will have as a reward for its champion such a
fate as to be captured!"
Seeing her flashing eyes and courageous thrusting aside of
possibilities, that he might not count her a coward, John Hancock
loved her better than before, and tenderly raised her hand to his lips
with a simple: "God bless you, dear. I hope you may be right!"
And now, in quiet Lexington, Dorothy and Aunt Lydia occupied
themselves with such daily tasks as they were able to accomplish in
the minister's home, and the girl was bewildering in her varied charms
as John Hancock saw them displayed in daily life during their brief
but precious meetings. Dorothy enjoyed an occasional letter from a
cousin, Helena Bayard, who was still in Boston, and who gave lively
accounts of what was happening there.
As Mrs. Bayard lived in a boarding-house, she saw many persons who
knew nothing of her relatives, and one day, after returning from a
visit, she found the parlor full of boarders, who eagerly asked her if
she had heard the news. She said she had not, and in a letter to
Dorothy later, she gives this spicy account of what she heard:
I was told that Linsee was coming, and ten thousand troops,
which was glorious news for the Congress. Mr. Hancock was
next brought on the carpet, and as the company did not
suspect I had the least acquaintance with him, I can't think
they meant to affront me.
However, as Mr. Hancock has an elegant house and well
situated, and this will always be a garrison town, it will
do exceedingly well for a fort, ... "I wonder how Miss ...
will stand affected? I think he defers marrying until he
returns from England." At this speech I saw a wink given,
and all was hush!--myself as hush as the grave, for reasons.
"Mr. Hancock has a number of horses. Perhaps he would be
glad to dispose of them, as the officers are buying up the
best horses in town"--Mrs. Bayard, don't look so dull! You
will be taken the greatest care of! Thought I,--if you knew
my heart, you would have the most reason to look dull.
However, a little time will decide that.
I am, you will say, wicked, but I wish the small-pox would
spread. Dolly, I could swell my letter into a balloon, but
lest I should tire you, I will beg my sincere regards to Mr.
Hancock, and beg the favor of a line from my dear Dolly,