Come, bright Improvement! on the car of Time.
And rule the spacious world from clime to clime:
Thy handmaid arts shall every wild explore,
Trace every wave, and culture every shore.
CAMPBELL.
The tempered beams of a September sun glanced mildly on the quiet shores
of the Massachusetts, and tinged with mellowed hues the richness of its
autumnal scenery. It was on that holy day, which our puritan ancestors
were wont to regard emphatically as a "day of rest;" and nature seemed
hushed to a repose as deep and expressive as on that first earthly
sabbath when God finished his creative work, and "saw that it was very
good." The public worship of the morning was ended; and the citizens of
Boston were dispersing through the different streets and avenues of the
town, to their various places of abode. The mass which issued from the
portal of the sanctuary with grave and orderly demeanor, appeared to
melt away as one by one, or in household groups, they turned aside to
their respective dwellings, till all gradually disappeared, and the
streets were again left silent and deserted.
Arthur Stanhope had withdrawn from the crowd, and stood alone on the
margin of the bay, which curved its broad basin around the peninsula of
Boston. He had received no tidings from St. John's, since the day he
quitted it; and, with extreme impatience, he awaited the return of a
small trading vessel, which was hourly expected from thence. But his
eyes vainly traversed the wide expanse of water; all around it blended
with the bright blue sky, and no approaching bark darkened its unruffled
surface. Silence reigned over the scene as undisturbed as when the
adventurous pilgrims first leaped upon the inhospitable shore. But it
was the silence of that hallowed rest which man offered in homage to his
creator, not that primeval calm which then brooded over the savage
wilderness. Time, since the day on which they took possession, had
caused the waste places to "rejoice, and the desert to blossom as a
rose." The land to which they fled from the storms of persecution had
become a pleasant abode; and their interests and affections were
detached from the parent country, and fixed on the home of their
adoption.
The tide of emigration ceased with the triumph of the puritan cause in
England; but the early colonists had already laid deep the broad
foundations on which the fabric of civil and religious liberty was
reared. Prudence and persevering zeal had conquered the first and most
arduous labors of the settlement; and they looked forward with pious
confidence to its future prosperity, firmly persuaded that God had
reserved it for the resting place of his chosen people. The rugged soil
yielded to the hand of industry, and brought forth its treasures. The
shores of the bay no longer presented a scene of wild and solitary
magnificence. Forests, which had defied the blasts of ages, were swept
away; and, in their stead, fields of waving grain hung their golden ears
in the ripening sun, ready for the coming harvest. Flocks and herds
grazed in the green pastures which sloped to the water's edge, or
collected in meditative groups beneath the scattered trees that spread
their ample branches to shelter them. The noble range of hills which
rose beyond in beautiful inequalities, girdling the indented coast,
presented a rich and variegated prospect. Broad patches of cultivation
appeared in every sheltered nook, and tracts of smooth mown grass
relieved the eye from the midst of sterile wilds. Luxuriant corn-fields
fringed the borders of hanging woodlands, which clothed the steep
acclivities; and on the boldest summits wide regions were laid bare,
where the adventurous axe had broken the dark line of frowning forests,
and prepared the way for future culture. Here and there a thriving
village burst upon the view, its clustering houses interspersed with
gardens and orchards of young fruit trees.
The infant capital, from its central and commanding situation, rose
pre-eminent above the sister settlements. It had prospered beyond the
hopes of the most sanguine, and was already a mart for the superfluous
products of the colony. That regard to order and decorum, displayed by
the magistrates in their earliest regulations, and a uniformity in the
distribution of land for streets and dwelling lots, had prevented much
confusion, as the population increased. Its limits were then
comparatively narrow; man had not yet encroached on the dominions of the
sea to extend the boundaries of the peninsula. Where the first wharves
were erected, broad and busy streets now traverse almost the centre of
the city; and fuel was gathered, and wild animals hunted, from the woods
that grew in abundance on the neck, which is now a protracted and
populous avenue to the adjoining country. Extensive marshes skirted the
borders of the river Charles, and the three hills which formed its
prominent natural features were steep and rugged cliffs. One, indeed,
was surmounted by a wind-mill, which for many years labored unceasingly
for the public good, and ably supplied a deficiency of water-mills; and
another, which overlooked the harbor, was defended by a few pieces of
artillery; thus early betraying that jealous vigilance which has ever
distinguished the people of New-England. The last, and most lofty, was
still a barren waste, descending into the humid fens which are now
converted into a beautiful common, the only ornamental promenade which
our metropolis can boast.
Improvement was for a time necessarily gradual. Religion, the only
motive which could have induced such sacrifices as were made in its
cause, was first established; and civil order, and the means of
education, were deemed next important by the wise and virtuous founders
of our republic. The necessaries and comforts of life were secured
before they had leisure to think of its embellishments. Necessity
produced a frugal and industrious spirit, and the wealthiest encouraged
by their example the economy and self-denial of the lower orders.
Artisans and mechanics soon found ample employment, and various
manufactures were ingeniously contrived to supply the ordinary wants of
the colony. The natural products of the soil gradually yielded a
superfluity, which was exported to the West Indian and other
islands;--the commencement of that extensive traffic, which has since
raised Boston to a high rank among the commercial cities of the world.
It was also sent in exchange for the commodities of the mother country,
who, indulgent to her children while too feeble to dispute her
authority, then generously remitted those duties which afterwards proved
a "root of bitterness" between them. The fisheries, also, were even then
an object of consideration; and many found employment in that craft,
which has now become a source of national wealth. Vessels of
considerable burthen were launched from the shores of the wilderness,
and their light keels already parted the waters of distant seas. Nations
which then viewed our hardy navigators with contempt, have since seen
their white sails flutter in the winds of every climate, and their
adventurous ships braving the dangers of every rugged shore. The
proudest have acknowledged their rights in each commercial port, and the
bravest have struck unwillingly to their victorious flag.
The advancement which the colony had made within fourteen years from its
settlement, was indeed surprising. The germ of future prosperity seemed
bursting from its integuments. The principles of a free government were
established; the seed which was "sown in tears," though it appeared "the
least of all seeds," was preparing to shoot forth and spread its
branches into a mighty tree. As yet, however, the future was "hid under
a cloud;" and what had already been done, could only be justly
appreciated by those who acted and suffered from the commencement. But
the fruits of their labor were evident, even to the most indifferent
observer; and Stanhope's thoughts were forcibly drawn from the subject
of his own anxiety, and fixed on the scene before him.
The scene, glorious as it appeared in the simple garniture of nature,
and softened by the adornments of art, charmed the eye and awakened the
enthusiasm of a refined and imaginative mind. But the high moral
courage, the stern yet lofty impulse of duty, which had achieved so
great an enterprize; which had burst the strong links of kindred and
country, and exchanged honor and affluence for reproach and poverty, and
the countless trials of a wilderness, appealed directly to the best
feelings of the heart. Arthur was reminded by all around him, of this
noble triumph of mind and principle over the greatest physical
obstacles; and he strongly felt the contrast which it presented to the
habits and opinions of the Acadian settlers, with whom he had been
lately associated. The bitter enmity of La Tour and D'Aulney, the
struggle for pre-eminence, which kept them continually at strife, had
deadened every social affection and aroused the most fierce and selfish
passions. They had attempted to colonize a portion of the New World,
from interested and ambitious motives; their followers were in general
actuated by a hope of gain, or the mere spirit of adventure, which
characterized that age; and, if religion was at all considered, it was
only from motives of policy. The purity and disinterestedness of the
New-England fathers was more striking from the comparison; and, as
Stanhope mused on them, he wondered that the light sacrifices he had
himself been compelled to make, could ever have appeared so important.
His country, his profession, his hopes of honorable advancement, were
indeed abandoned; but dearer hopes had succeeded the dreams of
ambition; and what country would not become a paradise, when brightened
by the smiles of affection!
His reverie, by a very lover-like process, had thus revolved back to the
point where it commenced, when he was reminded of the lapse of time, by
the sound of a bell, which floated sweetly on the still air, and
announced the stated hour for the second services of the day. He was
slowly turning to obey its summons, when his attention was attracted by
the appearance of a vessel; and he again paused in curiosity and
suspense. It was a pinnace of large size, and sailed slowly over the
smooth waters, frequently tacking to catch the light breeze, which
scarcely swelled the canvass. The waves curled, as if in sport, around
the prow, leaving a sinuous track behind, as it came up through the
channel, north of Castle Island, like a solitary bird, skimming the
surface of the deep, and spreading its snowy wings towards some region
of rest. As it entered the spacious harbor, the gay streamer, which hung
idly from the mainmast, was raised by a passing breeze, displaying the
colors of France, united with the private arms of Mons. d'Aulney.
The vessel soon attracted general observation, but the sanctity of the
day prevented any open expression of curiosity or surprise. It was
permitted to anchor, unmolested by the formidable battery on the eastern
hill; the bell continued to ring for public worship, and the citizens
to assemble as usual. But, situated as the colonists then were, with
regard to Acadia, the arrival of a vessel from thence, was a matter of
some importance. Certain negociations had already taken place between
the magistrates of Boston and M. d'Aulney, and the latter had proposed
sending commissioners to arrange a treaty. The magistrates, rightly
conjecturing that they had at length arrived, sent two officers to
receive them at the water's side, and conduct them quietly to an inn.
Wishing, however, to treat them with suitable respect, when the services
of the day were over, a guard of musketeers was despatched to escort
them to the governor's house, where they were invited to remain, during
their stay in town.
A treaty was commenced on the following day; and, throughout its
progress, the utmost ceremony and attention was observed towards the
commissioners, which policy or politeness could suggest. Mutual
aggressions were complained of, and mutual concessions made; and though
D'Aulney had, in truth, been hitherto faithless to his promises, the
Bostonians evidently feared his growing power, and strongly inclined to
conciliatory measures. Under these circumstances, an amnesty was,
without much difficulty, concluded; and the commissioners soon after
returned, well satisfied, to Penobscot.
This treaty, for a time, seemed almost fatal to the prospects of La
Tour. It restrained the colonists from rendering him any further
assistance; and there was every probability that D'Aulney would at
length effect his long meditated designs against fort St. John's.
Stanhope felt much anxiety respecting Luciè's situation; but as winter
was now rapidly approaching, it was hardly possible that any hostile
operations would be commenced, before the return of spring. That period,
he trusted, would fulfil the hopes which she had sanctioned, and place
her under his own protection; and, through the autumn, he had the
satisfaction of hearing frequently from her, by means of the vessels
which continued to trade at the river, with La Tour. With extreme
surprise, he learned that she had discovered her father, in the
mysterious priest; and, strange as the connection seemed, he felt a
satisfaction, in knowing that she could claim a natural guardian, till
he was permitted to remove her from a situation, which was so constantly
exposed to danger.