poltroon did I not resent an indignity to a lady, especially to you. I
esteem it an honor to have made your acquaintance. May I say I cannot
find words to express the pleasure I have had in your society? I do
not know that I shall see you again before we start on our homeward
journey."
"Must you go? Can you not prolong your stay?"
[Illustration: King's Chapel, 1895.]
"We have already overstayed our time; but not to our regret. I never
shall forget, Miss Newville, these days and evenings which you, with
Berinthia, Tom, Miss Shrimpton, and Roger Stanley have made so
enjoyable."
"I trust we shall not be like ships that signal each other in
mid-ocean, then sail away never to meet again," she replied.
She reached out her hand to bid him farewell. It rested willingly in
his.
"I hope," she said, "I never shall be so ungrateful as to forget what
you have done for me. I certainly shall not forget the lesson you have
taught me--to stand resolutely for the right. I shall always be
pleased to see you."
"You may be sure, Miss Newville, I never shall fail to pay my respects
to one whose very presence makes life more beautiful and worth the
living."
The full moon was falling upon her face. Her eyes seemed to be looking
far away. He saw for a moment a shade of sadness upon her countenance,
succeeded by a smile. Her hand was still resting in his.
"Good-by till we meet again," her parting words.
Never before had he felt such an uplifting of spirit. "Till we meet
again" would ever be like a strain of music. He lingered awhile, loath
to leave the spot. A light was soon shining in her chamber. The
curtains revealed her shadow. It was something to know she was there.
Would she think of him when lying down to sleep? When would he again
behold those loving eyes, that radiant face, that beauty of soul seen
in every feature? What had the future in store for them? Ah! what had
it? The light in the chamber was extinguished, and he turned away.
Once more he lingered by the gray walls of King's Chapel to take a
parting look at the white-curtained window, and then walked to Queen
Street, past the jail and printing office. It would be a pleasure to
stand once more upon the spot where first he met her.
He heard a commotion in the direction of Dock Square,--oaths and
curses; and suddenly beheld citizens running, followed by soldiers,
whose swords were flashing in the moonlight. They followed the fleeing
people nearly to the town pump, then turned and disappeared in an
alley.
"What has happened?" Robert asked of a man who had a pail of oysters
in his hand.
"What? Just see what I've got from the hellish rascals," the man
replied, setting down the pail and pointing to a gash on his shoulder.
"The red-coated devils are cutting and slashing everybody. They are
ripping and swearing they'll kill every blasted Son of Liberty."
While the oysterman was speaking, a little boy came along, piteously
crying.
"What's the matter, my boy?" Robert asked.
Amid his sobs it was learned that the boy's father sent him on an
errand; that while peacefully walking the street, a soldier rushed
upon him swearing, aiming a blow, felling him to the ground with his
sword.
"I'll kill every Yankee whelp in Boston," said the redcoat.
Again there was a commotion--soldiers rushing towards Dock Square.
"Where are the blackguards? let's kill 'em," they shouted.
"Come on, you dirty cowards; we are ready for ye," the answering
shout.
Robert could hear oaths and vile words, and then the whacking of
clubs, and saw the soldiers fleeing towards their barracks followed by
the people. A man with a stout club came along the street.
"What's going on?" Robert asked.
"We are giving it to the poltroons. We'll drive 'em off Long Wharf.
They rushed out upon us just now, with shovels, tongs, swords, and
baggernets, and called us cowards. We whacked 'em with our clubs and
drove the ruffians--blast their picters."
The commotion was increasing. Robert walked towards the barracks to
learn the meaning of it. Reaching an alley, he saw a crowd of
soldiers, and that the officers were trying to get them within the
barrack gates. Towards Dock Square was a group of young men
flourishing cudgels, and daring the lobsters to come on.
"Let's set the bell ringing," he heard one say, and two apprentices
rushed past him towards the meetinghouse.
The officers, the while, were closing the barrack gates.
"To the main guard! Let us clean out that viper's nest," shouted one;
and the apprentices moved towards King Street.
The bell was ringing. Robert walked back to the pump, and past it to
the meetinghouse. Citizens were coming with fire-buckets. He could see
by the clock above him that it was ten minutes past nine. Mr. Knox,
the bookseller, came, out of breath with running.
"It is not a fire, but there is trouble with the soldiers," said
Robert.
Together they walked down King Street, and saw the sentinel at the
Custom House loading his gun. Robert learned that a boy had hurled a
snowball at him.
"Stand back, or I'll shoot," said the soldier to those gathering round
him.
"If you fire, you'll die for it," said Mr. Knox.
"I don't care if I do," the sentinel replied with an oath.
"You daren't fire," shouted a boy.
The redcoat raised his gun, and pulled the trigger. The lock clicked,
but the powder did not flash.
"Spit in the pan!" said another boy, chaffing him.
"Guard! Guard!" shouted the sentinel, calling the main guard.
Captain Preston, with a file of men, came from the guardhouse upon the
run, in response to the call. The meetinghouse bell was still ringing,
and other bells began to clang. The soldiers, nine in number, formed
in front of the Custom House with their bayonets fixed, and brought
their guns to a level as if to fire. Robert thought there were thirty
or more young men and boys in the street. Among them was a burly negro
leaning on a stick, and looking at the soldiers. The others called him
Crisp.
"Are your guns loaded?" asked a man of Captain Preston, commanding the
soldiers.
"Yes."
"Are they going to fire?"
"They can't without my orders."
"For God's sake, captain, take your men back again, for if you fire
your life must answer for it," said Mr. Knox, seizing the captain by
the coat.
"I know what I'm about," Captain Preston replied.
The bayonets of the soldiers almost touched the breasts of Crispus
Attucks and Samuel Gray. The negro was still leaning upon his cudgel,
and Gray stood proudly before them with folded arms, a free citizen,
in the dignity of his manhood protesting against the system of
government instituted by King George and his ministry.
"You don't dare to fire," he said.
Why should they fire? The jeering apprentices before them had no guns,
only sticks and clubs; they were not fifty in number. What had they
done? Thrown a snowball at the sentinel; called him names; pointed
their fingers at him; dared him to fire. It was not this, however,
which had brought the guns to a level; but the drubbing the ropemakers
had given them, and the funeral of Christopher Snider. These were not
the beginning of the trouble, but rather the arrogance, greed,
selfishness, and intolerance of the repressive measures of a bigot
king, a servile ministry, and a venial Parliament.
Robert heard the clicking of gun-locks. He did not hear any order from
Captain Preston, but a gun flashed, and then the entire file fired. He
saw the negro, Samuel Gray, and several others reel to the ground,
their warm blood spurting upon the newly fallen snow. There was a
shriek from the fleeing apprentices. Robert, Mr. Knox, and several
others ran to those who had been shot, lifted them tenderly, and
carried them into a house. Doctor Warren, hearing the volley, came
running to learn the meaning of it. He examined the wounded. "Crispus
Attucks has been struck by two balls; either would have been fatal. He
died instantly," the doctor said.
By the side of the negro lay Samuel Gray, who had stood so calmly with
folded arms, the bayonets within a foot of his heart. In the bloom of
youth, Samuel Maverick, seventeen years old, who had come to find the
fire, was lying upon the ground, his heart's blood oozing upon the
snow. Patrick Carr and Samuel Caldwell, who also had come to put out a
fire, were dying, and six others were wounded. The soldiers were
reloading their guns, preparing for another volley. Robert heard the
rat-a-tat of a drum, and saw the Twenty-Ninth Regiment march into the
street from Pudding Lane, the front rank kneeling, the rear rank
standing, with guns loaded, bayonets fixed, and ready to fire.
"To arms! To arms!"
He could hear the cry along Cornhill, and down in Dock Square. All the
meetinghouse bells were clanging and people were gathering with guns,
swords, clubs, shovels, crowbars, and pitchforks.
Lieutenant-Governor Hutchinson came.[43]
[Footnote 43: Thomas Hutchinson was a native of Boston. He graduated
from Harvard College, 1727. He became a merchant, but was
unsuccessful; studied law and opened an office in Boston. He was sent
to London by the town as its agent, and upon his return was elected to
the legislature several years in succession. He held the office of
judge of probate, and was a councilor from 1749 to 1766, a
lieutenant-governor from 1758 to 1771. He was also appointed chief
justice, 1758. At the time this story opens he was holding four high
offices under the crown. Upon the departure of Governor Francis
Bernard for England in the autumn of 1769, Hutchinson became acting
governor. He was commissioned as governor, 1771. In May, 1770, he
issued his proclamation for the legislature to meet in Cambridge; but
that body insisted that the terms of the charter required the General
Court to assemble in Boston. A sharp and bitter controversy followed.
Doctor Franklin was appointed agent of the Province to look after its
welfare before Parliament. In 1773 he came into possession of a large
number of letters written by Hutchinson to Mr. Whately, one of the
under-secretaries, advising the ministry to take coercive measures
with Massachusetts. Franklin sent the letters to Thomas Cushing
speaker of the House of Representatives. Their publication aroused the
indignation of the people, which was increased by the action of
Hutchinson in connection with the arrival of the tea-ships. He became
very unpopular and sailed for England, June 3, 1774. So eager was the
king to see him that he was summoned into his royal presence before he
had time to change his clothing. He assured King George that the bill
closing the port of Boston to commerce was a wise and beneficent
measure, and would compel the people to submit to royal authority. The
conversation lasted two hours. Upon its conclusion the king expressed
his great pleasure for the information and comfort Hutchinson had
given him. He was created a baronet, and was consulted by Lord North
and the other members of the ministry. That his opinions had great
weight with the king and his ministers, and that he was largely
instrumental in bringing about the Revolutionary War, cannot be
questioned. He died at Brompton, near London, June 3, 1780.]
"Are you the officer who was in command of the troops?" he asked,
addressing Captain Preston.
"Yes, sir."
"Do you know you have no power to fire upon the people except by order
of a magistrate?"
"I was obliged to fire to save the sentry."
"That's a lie," shouted the crowd.
The surging multitude compelled the lieutenant-governor to enter the
Town House. A few moments later he appeared upon the balcony
overlooking King Street.
"I am greatly grieved," he said, "at what has happened. I pledge you
my honor that this unhappy occurrence shall be inquired into. The law
shall have its course. Now, fellow-citizens, let me urge you to retire
to your homes."
"No, no! Send the troops to their barracks. We won't go till they are
gone!" the shout from the people.
"I have no power to order them."
[Illustration: The Town House.]
"The troops to their barracks! to their barracks!"
"I cannot do it; I have no authority."
"Arrest Preston! Hang the villains! To the barracks!" shouted the
angry multitude.
"I will consult with the officers," said Hutchinson.
He went into the council chamber. Louder the outcry of the indignant
people. The troops were as they had been, drawn up in two lines, the
front rank kneeling, ready to fire upon the gathering multitude.
Robert felt that it was a critical moment. If the troops were to fire
into the surging throng, the gutters would run with blood.
"The troops to their barracks! Away with them!" the cry.
"I will order them to their barracks," said Colonel Dalrymple, who
recognized the danger of the moment.
Robert breathed more freely when the front rank rose, and the troops
filed once more through Pudding Lane to their quarters.
Tom Brandon had come with his gun ready to fight. A great crowd
gathered around the Town House where the governor was holding a court
of inquiry. Robert and Tom edged themselves into the room, and heard
what was said and saw what was going on. It was nearly three o'clock
in the morning when the magistrates directed the sheriff to put
Captain Preston and the soldiers who had fired the volley in jail. It
was a great satisfaction to Robert and Tom to go up Queen Street and
see the redcoats enter the jail and hear the key click in the lock
behind them. Civil law was still supreme.
The night was far gone when Robert reached the Brandon home. Although
retiring to his chamber, he could not compose himself to sleep. He was
looking into the future, wondering what would be the outcome of the
massacre.
Long before the rising of the sun the following morning, the streets
were swarming with people, hastening in from the country, with muskets
on their shoulders, with indignation and fierce determination manifest
in every feature, assembling in Faneuil Hall; but only a few of the
multitude could get into the building.
"The Old South! Old South!" cried the people, and the crowd surged
through Dock Square and along Cornhill to the Old South Meetinghouse.
Samuel Adams, John Hancock, Joseph Warren, and others were chosen a
committee to wait on the governor in the council chamber.
"The inhabitants and soldiery can no longer live together in safety;
nothing can restore peace and prevent further carnage but the
immediate removal of the troops," said Mr. Adams, speaking for the
committee.
Colonel Dalrymple informed Governor Hutchinson that, as the
Twenty-Ninth Regiment had done the mischief, he was willing it should
be sent down the harbor to Fort William, and he would direct its
removal.
"The people," said Mr. Adams, "not only of this town, but of all the
surrounding towns, are determined that all the troops shall be
removed."
"To attack the king's troops would be high treason, and every man
concerned would forfeit his life and estate," said Hutchinson.
"The people demand their immediate withdrawal," Mr. Adams replied,
bowing, and taking his departure.
Cornhill, all the way from the Town House to the Old South, was
crowded with resolute and determined citizens, equipped with muskets
and powder-horns. They saw Samuel Adams, loved and revered, descend
the steps of the Town House, followed by the other members of the
committee.
"Make way for the committee!" the cry.
"Hurrah for Sam Adams!" the shout.
They saw the man they loved lift his hat. They knew King George
wanted him sent to England to be tried for treason; that
Lieutenant-Governor Hutchinson was ready to aid in such a plan;
but there he was, more determined than ever to maintain the rights
of the people.
Tom worked his way into the meetinghouse and heard Mr. Adams say the
lieutenant-governor's answer was unsatisfactory.
"All the troops must go," shouted the citizens.
Once more Mr. Adams and six of his fellow-citizens made their way to
the Town House. The lieutenant-governor and the council were assembled
together with Colonel Dalrymple, Admiral Montague, and other officers
in their scarlet uniforms. Robert edged his way into the building.
"It is the unanimous opinion," said Mr. Adams, "that the reply of your
excellency is unsatisfactory. Nothing will satisfy the people other
than the immediate removal of all the troops."
"The troops are not subject to my authority; I have no power to remove
them," said Hutchinson.
Robert saw Mr. Adams raise his right arm towards Hutchinson. His words
were clear and distinct:--
"Lieutenant-Governor Hutchinson, if you have power to remove one
regiment, you have power to remove both. It is at your peril if you do
not. The meeting is composed of three thousand people. They are
impatient. One thousand men have arrived from the surrounding towns.
The country is in motion. The people expect an immediate answer."
A whiteness came into the face of the lieutenant-governor. His hands
began to tremble. One hundred years before, the people in their
majesty and might had put Edmund Andros in prison. Might they not do
the same with him?
"What shall be done?" he asked of the council, with trembling lips.
"It is not such people as injured your house who are asking you
to remove the troops," said Councilman Tyler; "they are the best
people of the town, men of property, supporters of religion. It is
impossible, your excellency, for the troops to remain. If they do
not go, ten thousand armed men will soon be here."
"Men will soon be here from Essex and Middlesex," said Councilman
Bussell of Charlestown.
"Yes, and from Worcester and Connecticut," said Mr. Dexter of Dedham.
Every member said the same, and advised their removal. Colonel
Dalrymple had consented that the regiment which began the disturbance
should leave, but it would be very humiliating if all the troops were
to go. The instructions from the king had put the military as superior
to the civil authority.
"I cannot consent, your excellency, voluntarily to remove all the
troops," said Dalrymple.
"You have asked the advice of the council," said Councilman Gray to
Hutchinson; "it has been given; you are bound to conform to it."
Robert felt it was a home-thrust that Councilman Gray gave, who said
further:--
"If mischief shall come, your excellency, by means of your not doing
what the council has advised, you alone must bear the blame. If the
commanding officer after that should refuse to remove the troops, the
blame then will be at his door!"
"I will do what the council has advised," said Hutchinson.
"I shall obey the command of your excellency," said Dalrymple.
The victory was won. "The lobsters have got to go," the shout that
went up in the Old South, when Mr. Adams informed the people.
Very galling it was to the king's troops to hear the drums of the
citizens beating, and to see armed men patrolling the streets, while
they were packing their equipments. It was exasperating to be cooped
up in Fort William, with no opportunity to roam the streets, insult
the people, drink toddy in the tap-rooms of the Tun and Bacchus and
the White Horse taverns. No longer could the lieutenants and ensigns
quarter themselves upon the people and be waited upon by negro
servants, or spend their evenings with young ladies. They who came to
maintain law and order had themselves become transgressors, and were
being sent to what was little better than a prison, while Captain
Preston and the men who fired upon the unarmed citizens were in jail
as murderers. It was a humiliating, exasperating reflection.
X.
MRS. NEWVILLE'S DINNER-PARTY.
His majesty's commissioner of imposts, Theodore Newville, being an
officer of the crown, dispensed generous hospitality. Gentlemen of
position or culture arriving in town were cordially entertained. His
table was abundantly supplied with meats and with wines mellowed by
age. He was loyal to his sovereign; gloried in being an Englishman,
gave reverence to King George, and was respected and honored by his
fellow-citizens. On Sunday, in King's Chapel, he repeated with unction
the prayer for their majesties the king and queen, and for his royal
highness the Prince of Wales. Not only as a servant of the crown but
as a citizen it was his duty to be loyal to the king. He was kind,
courteous, and tolerant towards those who did not agree with him in
political affairs. He thought Sam Adams, James Otis, and Doctor Warren
were rather hot-headed, but they were nevertheless frequent guests at
his table.
Mrs. Newville took pride in making her home attractive. Whether as
hostess at the dinner-table or in the parlor, she displayed tact and
grace in conversation. She was ever solicitous for the welfare and
happiness of Ruth, her only child, and fondly hoped a kind Providence
would bring about an alliance with some worthy son of an ancient and
honorable family. Her day-dreams pictured a possible marriage of her
beloved daughter to some lord, earl, or baronet from the mother
country, owner of a great estate, a castle, or baronial hall.
It was an agreeable announcement which Mr. Newville made to Mrs.
Newville, that the ship Robin Hood, sent out by the Admiralty to
obtain masts, had arrived, bringing as passengers young Lord Upperton
and his traveling companion, Mr. Dapper. His lordship had recently
taken his seat with the peers, and was traveling for recreation and
adventure in the Colonies. Not only was he a peer, but prospective
Duke of Northfield. He was intimate with the nobility of the realm,
and had kissed the hands of the king and queen in the drawing-room of
Buckingham Palace.
Mr. Dapper was several years the senior of Lord Upperton, so
intelligent, agreeable, polite, courteous, and of such humor, that
he was ever welcomed in the drawing-room of my lady the Countess
of Epsom, the Marquise of Biddeford, and at the tables of my Lady
Stamford, and of her grace the Duchess of Alwington. The doors of the
London clubs were always wide open to one who could keep the table in
a roar by his wit. Lord Upperton had chosen him as his companion
during his visit to his majesty's Colonies.
"It will indeed be an honor to entertain Lord Upperton and his
friends," said Mrs. Newville, with sparkling eyes. It was not only the
anticipated pleasure of their company at dinner that set her pulses
throbbing, but the thought that it might in the end make her
day-dreams a reality.
Mr. Newville thought it would be eminently fitting to invite the
commander of his majesty's fleet, Admiral Montague, and also the
rector of King's Chapel, Reverend Mr. Coner; together they would
represent the crown and the church.
Mrs. Newville did not intend that any bevy of beautiful girls should
assemble around her table and be a cluster of diamonds to dazzle his
lordship by their brilliancy. She would have but one brilliant, her
own daughter. The other ladies should be of mature years. She would
invite Miss Milford, who made it a point to read every new book; Miss
Artley, who could paint in oils, and Miss Chanson, who would sing a
song after dinner, and accompany herself upon the harpsichord; Mr.
John Adams, the able lawyer, and his accomplished wife.
From her chamber window, Ruth saw a lumbering coach drive up the
street. The footman in blue livery opened the coach door, and a young
man, tall, handsome, wearing a blue velvet coat, the sleeves slashed
with gold, an embroidered waistcoat, buff breeches, lace ruffles, and
powdered wig, walked up the path accompanied by a gentleman several
years his senior, faultlessly dressed, with crimson velvet coat and
costly ruffles. The other guests had previously arrived. Ruth, in
accordance with her mother's wishes, wore a rich brocaded silk of pure
white. She needed no adornment of silver, gold, or precious stones to
set forth her loveliness as she entered the parlor.
"My lord, shall I have the pleasure of presenting my daughter?" said
her mother.
Lord Upperton bowed. Mrs. Newville saw a look of surprise upon his
face, as if he had not expected to find so sweet a flower in the
wilderness of the Western world. He bowed again, very politely, and
expressed his pleasure at making her acquaintance.
Pompey, bowing low, informed Mr. Newville that dinner was ready to be
served.
"My lord, may I presume to assign my daughter to you?" said Mrs.
Newville, giving her own arm to Admiral Montague.
Mr. Dapper solicited the favor of Mrs. Adams's company. As Miss
Chanson sang in the choir at King's Chapel, Reverend Mr. Coner thought
it becoming to offer her his arm, leaving Miss Artley to Mr. Newville,
and Miss Milford to Mr. Adams.