in the lower counties. The Monday preceding, 300 armed farmers had
marched into the town of Concord, and prevented the sitting of the
courts of Middlesex county. The weakness of the government was shown by
the fact that, although ample warning of the intentions of the rebels
had been given, no opposition to them was attempted. The governor had,
indeed, at first ordered the militia to arms, but through apprehension
of their unfaithfulness had subsequently countermanded the order. The
fact that the rebellion had manifested such strength and boldness within
a few hours' march of Boston, the capital of the state, was an important
element in the elation which the tidings produced among the people.
It showed that the western counties were not alone engaged in the
insurrection, but that the people all over the state were making common
cause against the courts and the party that upheld them.
The jubilation produced by this intelligence, combining with the usual
reaction at sunset after the repression of the day, caused that evening
a general pandemonium of tin-pans, bonfires, mischief of all sorts,
and the usual concomitant of unlimited drunkenness. In the midst of
the uproar, Mrs. Jahleel Woodbridge, Squire Edward's sister, died. The
violence of the mob was such, however, that Edwards did not dare to
avail himself of even this excuse for refusing to furnish liquor to the
crowd.
The funeral took place Tuesday. It was the largest and most imposing
that had taken place in the village for a long time. The prominence of
both the families concerned, procured the attendance of all the gentry
of Southern Berkshire. I employ an English phrase to describe a
class for which, in our modern democratic New England, there is no
counterpart. The Stoddards, Littles, and Wendells, of Pittsfield, were
represented. Colonel Ashley was there from Sheffield, Justices Dwight
and Whiting from Great Barrington, and Barker from Lanesborough, with
many more. The carriages, some of them bearing coats of arms upon their
panels, made a fine array, which, not less than the richly attired dames
and gentlemen who descended from them, impressed a temporary awe upon
even the most seditious and democratically inclined of the staring
populace. The six pall-bearers, adorned with scarves, and mourning
rings, were Chief Justice Dwight, Colonel Elijah Williams of West
Stockbridge, the founder and owner of the iron-works there, Dr. Sergeant
of Stockbridge, Captain Solomon Stoddard, commander of the Stockbridge
militia, Oliver Wendell of Pittsfield, and Henry W. Dwight of
Stockbridge, the county treasurer. There were not in Stockbridge alone
enough families to have furnished six pall-bearers of satisfactory
social rank. For while all men of liberal education or profession, or
such as held prominent offices were recognized as gentlemen in sharp
distinction from the common people, yet the generality of even these
were looked far down upon by the county families of long pedigree and
large estate. The Partridges, Dr. Sergeant, the Dwights, the Williamses,
the Stoddards, and of course his brother-in-law Edwards, were the only
men in Stockbridge whom Woodbridge regarded as belonging to his own
caste. Even Theodore Sedgwick, despite his high public offices, he
affected to consider entitled to social equality chiefly by virtue of
his having married a Dwight.
After the funeral exercises, Squire Woodbridge managed to whisper a few
words in the ear of a dozen or so of the gentlemen present, the tenor of
which, to the great surprise of those addressed, was a request that they
would call on him that evening after dark, taking care to come alone,
and attract as little attention as possible. Each one supposed himself
to have been alone invited, and on being met at the door by Squire
Woodbridge and ushered into the study, was surprised to find the room
full of gentlemen. Drs. Partridge and Sergeant and Squire Edwards
were there, Captain Stoddard, Sheriff Seymour, Tax-collector Williams,
Solomon Gleason, John Bacon, Esquire, General Pepoon and numerous
other lawyers, County Treasurer Dwight, Deacon Nash, Ephraim Williams,
Esquire, Sedgwick's law-partner, Captain Jones, the militia commissary
of Stockbridge, at whose house the town stock of arms and ammunition was
stored, and some other gentlemen.
When all had assembled, Woodbridge, having satisfied himself there were
no spies lurking about the garden, and that the gathering of gentlemen
had not attracted attention to the house, proceeded to close the blinds
of the study windows and draw the curtains. He then drew a piece of
printed paper from his pocket, opened it, and broached the matter in
hand to the wondering company, as follows:
“The awful suggestions with which the recent visitation of God has
invested my house for the time being, has enabled us to meet to-night
without danger that our deliberations will be interrupted, either by the
curiosity or the violence of the rabble. For this one night, the
first for many weeks, they have left me in peace, and I deem it is no
desecration of the beloved memory of my departed companion, that we
should avail ourselves of so melancholy an opportunity to take counsel
for the restoration of law and order in this sorely troubled community.
I have this day received from his excellency, the governor, and the
honorable council at Boston, a proclamation, directed to all justices,
sheriffs, jurors, and citizens, authorizing and strictly commanding them
to suppress, by force of arms, all riotous proceedings, and to apprehend
the rioters. I have called you privately together, that we might arrange
for concerted action to these ends.” In a low voice, so that no chance
listener from without might catch its tenor, the Squire then proceeded
to read Governor Bowdoin's proclamation, closing with that time-honored
and impressive formula, “God save the Commonwealth of Massachusetts.”
Captain Stoddard was first to break the silence which followed the
reading of the document.
“I, for one, am ready to fight the mob to-morrow, but how are we to go
about it. There are ten men for the mob to one against it. What can we
do?”
“How many men in your company could be depended on to fight the mob, if
it came to blows?” asked Woodbridge.
“I'm afraid not over twenty or thirty. Three-quarters are for the mob.”
“There are a dozen of us here, and I presume at least a score more
gentlemen in town could be depended on,” said Dr. Partridge.
“But that would give not over three score, and the mob could easily
muster four times that,” said Gleason.
“They have no leaders, though,” said Bacon. “Such fellows are only
dangerous when they have leaders. They could not stand before us, for
methinks we are by this time become desperate men.”
“You forget this Hamlin fellow will stop at nothing, and they will
follow him,” remarked Seymour.
“He is going to leave town this week, if he be not already gone,” said
Dr. Partridge.
“What?” exclaimed Woodbridge, almost with consternation.
“He is going away,” repeated the doctor.
“Perhaps it would be expedient to wait till he has gone,” was Gleason's
prudent suggestion.
“And let the knave escape!” exclaimed Woodbridge, looking fiercely
at the schoolmaster. “I would not have him get away for ten thousand
pounds. I have a little reckoning to settle with him. If he is going to
leave, we must not delay.”
“My advices state that Squire Sedgwick will be home in a few days
to attend to his cases at the October term of the Supreme Court at
Barrington. His co-operation would no doubt strengthen our hands,”
suggested Ephraim Williams.
If the danger of Hamlin's escape had not been a sufficient motive in
Woodbridge's mind for hastening matters, the possibility that his rival
might return in time to share the credit of the undertaking would have
been. But he merely said, coldly:
“The success of our measures will scarcely depend on the co-operation of
one man more or less, and seeing that we have broached the business,
as little time as possible should intervene ere its execution lest some
whisper get abroad and warn the rabble, for it is clear that it is only
by a surprise that we can be sure of beating them.”
He then proceeded to lay before them a scheme of action which was at
once so bold and so prudent that it obtained the immediate and admiring
approval of all present. Just before dawn, at three o'clock in the
morning of Thursday, the next day but one, that being the hour at which
the village was most completely wrapped in repose, the conspirators were
secretly to rendezvous at Captain Jones' house, and such as had not
arms and ammunition of their own were there to be supplied from the town
stock. Issuing thence and dividing into parties the arrest of Hamlin,
Abner Rathbun, Peleg Bidwell, Israel Goodrich, Meshech Little, and other
men regarded as leaders of the mob, was to be simultaneously effected.
Strong guards were then to be posted so that when the village woke up it
would be to find itself in military possession of the legal authorities.
The next step would be immediately to bring the prisoners before Justice
Woodbridge to be tried, the sentences to be summarily carried out at the
whipping-post on the green, and the prisoners then remanded to custody
to await the further action of the law before higher tribunals. It might
be necessary to keep up the military occupation of the village for some
time, but it was agreed among the gentlemen that the execution of
the above program would be sufficient to break the spirit of the mob
entirely. The excesses of the rabble during the past week had, it
was believed, already done something to produce a reaction of feeling
against them among their former sympathizers, and there would doubtless
be plenty of recruits for the party of order as soon as it had shown
itself the stronger. The intervening day, Wednesday, was to be devoted
by those present to secretly warning such as were counted on to assist
in the project. It was estimated that including all the able-bodied
gentlemen in town as well as some of the people known to be disaffected
to the mob, about seventy-five sure men could be secured for the work in
hand.
Now Lu Nimham, the beautiful Indian girl whom Perez had noticed in
meeting sitting beside Prudence Fennell, had another lover besides Abe
Konkapot, no other in fact than Abe's own brother Jake. Abe had been
to the war and Jake had not, and Lu, as might have been expected from
a girl whose father and brother had fallen at White Plains in the
Continental uniform, preferred the soldier lover to the other. But not
so the widow Nimham, her mother, in whose eyes Jake's slightly better
worldly prospects gave him the advantage. It so happened that soon after
dusk, Wednesday evening, Abe, drawn by a tender inward stress betook
himself to the lonely dell in the extreme west part of the village,
now called Glendale, where the hut of the Nimham family stood. His
discomfiture was great on finding Jake already comfortably installed in
the kitchen and basking in Lu's society. He did not linger. The widow
did not invite him to stop; in fact, not to put too fine a point upon
it, she intimated that it would be just as well if he were to finish
his call some other time. Lu indeed threw sundry tender commiserating
glances in his direction, but her mother watched her like a cat, and
mothers in those times were a good deal more in the way than they are
nowadays.
How little do we know what is good for us! As he beat an ignominious
retreat, pursued by the scornful laughter of his brother, Abe certainly
had apparent reason to be down on his luck. Nevertheless the fact that
he was cut out that particular evening proved to be one of the clearest
streaks of luck that had ever occurred in his career, and a good many
others besides he had equal reason ere morning dawned to be thankful for
it. The matter fell out on this wise:
A couple of hours later, a little after nine in fact, the Hamlin
household was about going to bed. Elnathan and Mrs. Hamlin had already
retired to the small bedroom opening out of the kitchen. Reuben, George
Fennell and Perez slept in the kitchen, and Prudence in the loft above.
The two invalids were already abed, and the girl was just giving the
last attentions for the night to her father before climbing to her
pallet. Perez sat at the other end of the great room before the open
chimney, gazing into the embers of the fire. The family was to start for
New York the next morning, and as this last night in the old homestead
was closing in the young man had enough sad matter to occupy his
thoughts. Her loving cares completed, Prudence came and stood silently
by his side. Taking note of her friendly presence, after awhile he put
out his hand without looking up and took hers as it hung by her side.
He had taken quite a liking to the sweet-tempered little lassie, and had
felt particularly kindly towards her since her well-meaning, if rather
inadequate effort to console him that Sunday behind the barn.
“You're a good little girl, Prudy,” he said, “and I know you will take
good care of your father. You can stay here if you want, you know, after
we're gone. I don't think Solomon Gleason or the sheriff will trouble
you. Or you can go to your father's old house. Obadiah says Gleason
has left it. Obadiah will look after you and do any chores you may want
about the house. He'll be very glad to. He thinks a good deal of you,
Obadiah does. I s'pose he'll be wanting you to keep house for him when
you get a little older,” and he looked cheerily up at her. But evidently
his little jest had struck her mind amiss. Her eyes were full of tears
and the childish mouth quivered.
“Why what's the matter Prudy?” he asked in surprise.
“I wish you wouldn't talk so to me, now,” she said, “as if I didn't
care anything when you're all going away and have been so good to me and
father. And I don't care about Obadiah either, and you needn't say so.
He's just a great gumph.”
At this point, the conversation was abruptly broken off by the noise of
the latchstring being pulled. Both turned. Lu Nimham was standing in the
doorway, her great black eyes shining in the dusk like those of a deer
fascinated by the night-hunter's torch. Prudence, with a low exclamation
of surprise, crossed the room to her, and Lu whispering something drew
her out. Immediately, however, the white girl reappeared in the doorway,
her rosy face pale, her eyes dilated, and beckoned to Perez, who in a
good deal of wonderment at once obeyed the gesture. The two girls were
standing by a corner of the house, out of earshot from the window of
Elnathan's bedroom. Both looked very much excited, but the Indian girl
was smiling as if the stimulus affected her nerves agreeably rather than
otherwise. Abe Konkapot, looking rather sober, stood near by.
“Oh, what shall we do?” exclaimed Prudence in a terrified half-whisper.
“She says the militia are coming to take you!”
“What is it all?” demanded Perez of the Indian girl, as he laid his hand
soothingly on Prudence's shoulder.
“Jake Konkapot, he come see me tonight,” said Lu, still smiling. “Jake
no like Abe, cause Abe like me too. Jake he ask me if I like Abe any
more after he git whip on back by constable man. I say no. Indian gal,
no like marry man what been whip. Jake laugh and say I no marry Abe sure
nuff, cause Abe git whip to-morrow. He no tell me what he mean till I
say I give him kiss. Man all like kiss. Jake he says yes, an I give him
kiss. Ugh! Arter that he say Squire an Deacon Edwards, and Deacon Nash,
an Cap'n Stoddard an heap more, an Jake he go too, gonter git up arly,
at tree o'clock to-morrer, with guns; make no noise go roun creepy,
creepy, creepy.” Here she expressed by pantomime the way a cat
stealthily approaches its prey, culminating by a sudden clutch on Perez'
arm that startled him, as she added explosively, “Catch you so, all
abed, an Abe an Abner an heap more! Then when mornin come they whip
all on yer to the whippin-post. When Jake go home I wait till mammy go
sleep, slip out winder an go tell Abe so he no git whip. Then I tink
come here tell Prudence, for I tink she no like you git whip.”
Perez had listened with an intense interest that lost not a syllable. As
the girl described the disgrace which his enemies had planned to inflict
on him, if their plan succeeded, his cheek paled and his lips drew
tense across his set teeth. As Prudence looked up at him there was a
suppressed intensity of rage in his face which checked the ejaculations
upon her lips. There was a silence of several seconds, and then he said
in a low suppressed voice, hard and unnatural in tone:
“Young woman, I owe you more than if you had saved me from death.” Lu
smilingly nodded, evidently fully appreciating the point.
“Three o'clock, you said?” muttered Perez presently, half to himself, as
the others still were silent.
“Tree 'clock, Jake say. Jake an all udder man meet to Cap'n Jones' tree
'clock to git um guns.”
“It's nine now, six hours. Time enough,” muttered Perez.
“Yes, there's time for you to get away,” said Prudence eagerly. “You
can get to York State by three o'clock, if you hurry. Oh, don't wait a
minute. If they should catch you!”
He smiled grimly.
“Yes, there's time for me to get away, but there's no time for them, my
sirs.”
“Abe,” he added, abruptly changing his tone, “you've heard what they're
going to do? What are you going to do?”
“I tink me go woke up fellers. Heap time, run clean 'way 'fore tree
'clock,” said the Indian. “Mlishy come tree 'clock, no find us. 'Fraid
have to leave Abner. Abner heap drunk to-night. No can walk. Too big for
carry. Heap sorry, but no can help it.”
“But you don't want to leave home, Abe. You don't want to leave Lu here
for Jake to get.”
Abe shook his head gloomily.
“No use stay,” he said. “If I get whip, Lu no marry me.”
“Abe,” said Perez, stepping up to the disconsolate Indian and clapping
him sharply on the shoulder, “you were in the army. You're not afraid of
fighting. We'll stay and beat these fine gentlemen at their own game. By
three o'clock we'll have every one of them under guard, and, by the Lord
God of Israel, by noon to-morrow, every man of them shall get ten
lashes on his bare back with all Stockbridge looking on. We'll see who's
whipped.”
“Ha! you no run. You stay fight em. What heap more better as run. You,
great brave, ha! ha!” cried Lu dancing in front of Perez and clapping
her hands in noiseless ecstasy, while her splendid eyes rested on him
with an admiration of which Abe might have been excusably jealous.
Her Mohegan blood was on fire at the prospect of a scrimmage, and her
lover's response, if more laconic, was quite as satisfactory.
“Me no like to run. Me stay fight. Me do what you say.”
“Wait here till I get my sword and pistols. We've plenty of time, but
none to lose,” and Perez went into the house, followed by Prudence. Mrs.
Hamlin, with something hastily thrown over her nightdress, had come out
of her bedroom.
“I heard voices. What is it, Perez?” she said.
“Abe has come to get me to go off on a coon hunt. He thinks he's treed
several,” replied Perez, strapping on his accoutrements. He had no
notion of leaving his mother a prey to sleepless anxiety during his
absence.
“You're not telling me the truth, Perez. Look at Prudence.” The girl's
face, pale as ashes and her eyes full of fear and excitement, had
betrayed him, and so he had to tell her in a few words what he was going
to do. The door stood open. On the threshold, as he was going out, he
turned his head, and said in confident, ringing tones:
“You needn't be at all afraid. We shall certainly succeed.”
No wonder the breath of the night had inspired him with such confidence.
It was the night of all nights in the year which a man would choose if
he were to stake his life and all on the issue of some daring stake,
assured that then, if ever, he could depend to the uttermost on
every atom of nerve and muscle in his body. The bare mountain peaks
overhanging the village were tipped with silver by the moon, and under
its light the dense forests that clothed their sides, wore the sheen of
thick and glossy fur. The air was tingling with that electric stimulus
which characterizes autumn evenings in New England about the time of the
first frosts. A faint, sweet smell of aromatic smoke from burning pine
woods somewhere off in the mountains, could barely be detected. The
intense vitality of the atmosphere communicated itself to the nerves,
stringing them like steel chords, and setting them vibrating with lust
for action, reckless, daring emprise.
CHAPTER EIGHTEENTH
LEX TALIONIS
The plan which Perez had formed for forestalling his adversaries and
visiting upon their own heads the fate they had prepared for him, was
very simple. He proposed to go down into the village with Abe and Lu
and with their assistance, to call up, without waking anybody else, some
forty or fifty of the most determined fellows of the rebel party. With
the aid of these, he intended as noiselessly as possible, to enter the
houses of Woodbridge, Edwards, Deacon Nash, Captain Stoddard and others,
and arrest them in their beds, simultaneously seizing the town stock of
muskets and powder, and conveying it to a guarded place, so that when
the conspirators' party assembled at three o'clock, they might find
themselves at once without arms or officers, their leaders hostages
in the hands of the enemy, and their design completely set at naught.
Thanks to the excesses of the past week or two, there were many more
than forty men in the village who, knowing that the restoration of law
and order meant a sharp reckoning for them, would stop at nothing to
prevent it, and Perez could thus command precisely the sort of followers
he wanted for his present undertaking.
For generations after, in certain Stockbridge households, the story
in grandmother's repertoire most eagerly called by the young folks on
winter evenings, was about how the “Regulators” came for grandpa; how
at dead of night the heavy tramp of men and the sound of rough voices
in the rooms below, awoke the children sleeping overhead and froze their
young blood with fear of Indians; how at last mustering courage, they
crept downstairs, and peeking into the living-room saw it full of fierce
men, with green boughs in their hats, the flaring candles gleaming upon
their muskets and bayonets, and the drawn sword of their captain;
while in the midst, half-dressed and in his nightcap, grandpa was being
hustled about.