I
The hall was very ordinary within. Small in proportion to its great high
ceiling, bleak in its white-washed walls and scantily covered floor,
oppressive from its damp, stifling air and poor ventilation, it gave
every indication of the state of disuse into which it had fallen. It was
no more than an anteroom to the vestry of the church, though quite
detached from it, yet one could almost feel through the stout south wall
the impenetrable weight of darkness which had settled down within the
great building beyond. The gloomy shadows had penetrated here, too, for
although the antechamber contained a half dozen windows, they were
shuttered and barred against every hue of twilight from the outside. The
very atmosphere was indicative of the sinister nature of the business at
hand.
To the front of the room a small platform stood surmounted by a table,
surrounded by chairs. Several men occupied these, interested in a
conversation, somewhat subdued in its tone and manner. The chairs,
settees, and benches throughout the rest of the room, were being filled
by the so-called volunteers, who entered and took their places with an
air of wonder and indecision. Already two-thirds of the seats were
taken, and every face turned and re-turned to the door at every
footfall.
The small door to the side was, of course, barred; but, in response to
the slightest knock, it was opened by an attendant, assigned for that
purpose. Names were asked and the cards of admission were collected with
a certain formality before the aspirant gained admittance. There was no
introduction, no hurry, no excitement.
"What's your name?" the man at the door was heard to say to one who
already had tapped for admittance.
"Cadwalader," was the reply. "James Cadwalader."
"Got your card?"
There was no response, only the production of a small white card.
A strong, athletic individual, clad in a checked shirt and a red flannel
jacket, a leathern apron, and a pair of yellow buckskin breeches,
entered and stood for a moment looking about the hall. His eyes fell
upon the group gathered around the table at the forward end of the room.
Two of them he recognized, Colonel Clifton and John Anderson, the latter
with his back to the audience. There were many familiar faces in the
chairs throughout the room, some of whom had expected him, and
accordingly gave him a slight recognition. Slowly, and in a manifestly
indifferent manner, he made his way to the front of the chairs where he
seated himself, and listened sharply to the little group conversing upon
the platform until he had satisfied himself that there was nothing of
importance under discussion.
The room was filling rapidly. It was one of those mixed assemblies
wherein one could discern many states of mind written upon the faces of
those present. Some wore the appearance of contentment and composure;
some laughed and talked in a purely disinterested and indifferent
manner; others looked the picture of unrest and dissatisfaction, and
wore a scowl of disappointment and defeat. These latter Stephen
recognized at once and hurriedly made an estimate of their number.
Together with the neutral representation he seemed satisfied with the
majority.
The most remarkable feature of all was the silence. Not a voice was
raised above a whisper. The man at the door at the side of the hall, the
little group away to the front of the hall, peeping at the audience and
talking in subdued tones, the people in the chairs, those at the back of
the hall,--all seemed to hold their tongues to a whisper for interest
and a kind of fear. Drama was in the air.
The guard at the door advanced to the front of the hall to announce to
Mr. Anderson that the full quota was present. Whereupon the latter arose
from his chair and swept with his gaze the entire room, which the dim
light of the torches only partly revealed. Satisfied with his scrutiny,
he turned and again conferred with his associates who nodded their heads
in acceptance of his suggestion. They sat back in their chairs while he
came to the center of the platform and awaited the cessation of the hum
which was now becoming audible.
"Let me begin by taking further assurance of your number," he said, "for
which purpose I shall call the roll of names to which I respectfully ask
you to respond."
Then followed the reading of the roll-call to which each man at the
mention of his name signified his presence in the room. Stephen's heart
fluttered as he replied boldly to the name of "James Cadwalader."
There were eight names to which no reply was given. These very likely
would come later, or perhaps they had reconsidered their action and had
decided not to come at all. Those present numbered eighty-six, Stephen
learned from the count.
"I shall take this opportunity of distributing among you the papers of
enlistment that you may read the terms of agreement, and these I shall
ask you to sign at the close of this meeting."
As Anderson finished this sentence, he passed to several aids, a bundle
of papers which they promptly dealt out to the members of the proposed
company.
Then Mr. Anderson began.
II
"You have assembled this evening, my dear friends and co-religionists,
to translate into definite action the convictions by which you have been
impelled to undertake this important business. Our presence means that
we are ready to put into deeds the inspirations which have always
dominated our minds. It means that we are about to make a final thrust
for our religious convictions, and to prove that we are worthy
descendants of the men who established in this land freedom of religious
worship, and bequeathed it to us as a priceless heritage."
This Anderson is a clever fellow, thought Stephen, and a fluent talker.
Already his eloquence had brought quiet to the room and caused those who
were fumbling with the papers to let them fall motionless in their laps.
But what a knave! Here he was deliberately playing upon the sympathies
of his audience in the role of a Catholic.
"We have signified our intention of taking this momentous step, because
we are of the undivided opinion that our rights have been attained. We
have accomplished our purpose and we have now no cause for martial
strife. No longer do grounds of contention between us and the mother
country exist. Our bill of rights has been read abroad and honored, and
overtures of conciliation have already been made. The object for which
we linked our forces with the rebel standard, the happiness, the supreme
happiness of our country, has been gained. We no longer desire open
warfare.
"The idea of an American Parliament, with its members of American birth,
is a welcome one. It is a fitting, a worthy ambition. We are confident
that we are capable, at this juncture, of enacting our own laws and of
giving them the proper sanction. We are capable of raising our own
taxes. We are worthy of conducting our own commerce in every part of the
civilized globe as free citizens of the British Empire. And we are
convinced that we should enjoy for this purpose the blessings of good
government, not necessarily self-government, and that we should be
sustained by all the power requisite to uphold it, as befits free and
independent children bonded together in a concert of purpose.
"This we desire. But we seek also that freedom in matters of religious
worship without which no nation can attain to any degree of greatness.
Under a government conducted solely and independently by the colonists
we know that such a consummation would be impossible. I need not remind
you of the deplorable state of affairs which obtained previous to the
opening of hostilities. I need not recall to your minds the
anti-Catholic declarations of the Continental Congresses. I need not
recall to you the machinations of John Jay, or the manifest antipathy of
the Adamses, or the Hamiltons, or the Paines. I need not recall to you
how the vaunted defenders of American liberties and freedom expressed
their supreme detestation of Catholics and all things Catholic, and how
they were determined that the nightmare of Popery would never hold sway
over these free and independent colonies as it does even now in Canada.
I need not recall how the colonies, with the sole exception of this
colony of Pennsylvania, debarred the free and legitimate exercise of
your religion within their bounds, and restricted its public ceremonies;
how you were restricted by oaths required by law, even here in
Pennsylvania, which you could not take had you been so successful as to
be chosen to office. I need not remind you of these truths. You already
know them. It would be idle to repeat them."
"This man is exceedingly dangerous," muttered Stephen, "and exceedingly
well-informed." He jotted down several notes on the reverse of his
paper.
"We have been displeased with the conduct of the war, immeasurably so.
And we have lost all faith in the good will of our fellow-colonists, in
matters religious as well as in matters political. They have refused to
treat with the ministers of conciliation. We are about to join our
forces to those of the mother country in order that we may render our
own poverty-stricken land an everlasting service. We are destined to
take our places among a band of true and genuine patriots, who have,
above all things else, the welfare of their own land at heart, and we
are about to commit ourselves to this course, together with our
fortunes and our lives. Since our people are blinded by the avarice and
the prejudice of their leaders, we shall take into our own hands the
decision and the fortunes of this war, trusting that our cause may be
heard at the bar of history when strict judgment shall be meted out. We
have broken with our people in the hope that the dawn of better days may
break through the clouds that now overshadow us."
He paused, for a moment to study the temper of his audience. There was
no sound, and so he continued.
"It is the glory of the British soldier that he is the defender, not the
destroyer, of the civil and the religious rights of the people. Witness
the tolerant care of your mother country in the bestowal of religious
liberties to the inhabitants of our once oppressed neighbor, Canada. The
Quebec Act was the greatest concession ever granted in the history of
the British Parliament, and it secured for the Canadians the freedom of
that worship so dear and so precious to them. So great was the tolerance
granted to the Catholics of the North, that your fellow-colonists flew
to arms lest a similar concession be made here. It was the last straw
that broke the bonds of unity. For, henceforth, it was decreed that only
a complete and independent separation from the British Parliament could
secure to the people the practice of the Protestant faith.
"Now we come to the real purpose of this organization. We are about to
pledge ourselves to the restoration of our faith through the ultimate
triumph of the British arms. Nobody outside of America believes that she
can ever make good her claims of independence. No one has ever taken
seriously her attempt at self-government. France, alone, actuated by
that ancient hatred for England, inspired by the lust of conquest and
the greed of spoliation, has sent her ships to our aid. But has she
furnished the Colonies with a superior force of arms? Has she rendered
herself liable for any indebtedness? Your mother country alone has made
this benign offer to you, and it is to her alone that you can look and
be assured of any reconciliation and peace.
"Victory, once assured, will establish peace and everlasting happiness.
Victory, now made possible only by the force of arms, will assure us
toleration in religious matters. And why not? This fratricidal strife
should not occasion any personal hatred. England is not our foe, but our
mother in arms against whom we have conceived an unjust grievance. Let
us lay aside our guns for the olive. Since our fellow-citizens will not
accept just terms of conciliation let us compel them to do so by the
strength of our arms.
"Tomorrow we embark for New York at the place of landing indicated on
the papers of enlistment. There we shall be incorporated into a regiment
of a thousand men. The recruiting there has met with unlooked-for
success. Colonel Clifton reports that the ranks already are filled. Your
admission alone is required, and the ship, which will bear you down the
waters of the Susquehanna tomorrow, will carry a message of cheer to
them who have already entrusted themselves, their destinies, their all
to the realization of our common hope.
"You will now take the oath of allegiance to the government of His
Majesty, which I shall administer to you in a body. Tomorrow at the hour
of eight I shall meet you at the pier of embarkation. I shall be glad to
accompany you to reveal to you my interest in your behalf. Only with a
united front can we hope for success and to this purpose we have
dedicated our lives and our fortunes. I shall ask you to rise to a man,
with your right arm upraised, to take the oath of allegiance to your
king."
III
The spell that held them broke, and the bustle began. A mumble filled
the room, followed by moments of animated discussion. Neighbor spoke to
neighbor in terms of approval or plied him with questions menacing and
entreating. Anderson maintained his composure to allow them to settle
again into a period of quietude before the administration of the oath.
At length Stephen arose as if to question, and was given permission to
speak by the chairman, Mr. Anderson.
"What immunity does His Majesty's Government guarantee to us after the
war?"
"The usual guarantee will of course be made," Anderson replied.
"Does that mean that we shall be reestablished in the good-will of our
fellow-citizens?" Stephen again inquired.
"Unquestionably. When the colonists see the immense benefits which they
have acquired, they will readily condone all wrongs."
Intense interest was already manifest throughout the room. Faces were
eagerly bent forward lest a word be lost.
"Such considerations, however, are irrelevant to our purpose," dismissed
Anderson with a wave of the hand.
"But it is of vital consequence to us. We must return to our people to
live with them, and we cannot live in an atmosphere of hatred. Who
knows that our lives may not be placed in jeopardy! My question deals
with this. Will any provision be made against such a contingency?"
"It is too early to discuss the final settlement, but you have my
assurance that suitable protection will be given."
"Your assurance?" repeated Stephen. "What amount of assurance may you
offer to us, you who admittedly are one of ourselves?"
"I consider that an impertinent question, sir, and in no way connected
with the business before us."
"It is of vital concern to us, I should say; and I for one am desirous
of knowing more about this affair before yielding my consent."
"You have signed your papers of enlistment already, I believe. There is
no further course then for you to pursue."
There was a rustle among the seats. Some had begun to realize their
fate; some had realized it from the start but were powerless to prevent
it. Two or three faces turned a shade paler, and they became profoundly
silent. The others, too, held their tongues to await the result of the
controversy. For here was a matter of vital concern to all. Up to now
very few deserters, especially among the Catholics, had been discovered
among the American forces. They had heard of an individual or two
surrendering himself to the enemy, or of whole families going over to
the other side in order to retain their possessions and lands. But a
mutiny was another matter altogether. What if they failed and the
Colonists gained their independence!
"I suppose we are powerless," admitted Stephen in a low tone of voice
as he watched the effect of his words on the gathering. "We are
confronted," he continued, "with the dilemma of estrangement no matter
what side gains."
"England can't lose," interrupted Colonel Clifton, who heretofore had
been seated, an attentive observer. "And with victory comes the
establishment of the will of the conqueror. Care will be taken that
there shall be adequate reparation."
"Very good!" answered Stephen. "Now together with that privilege of
immunity, can we be assured of the extension of the Quebec Act? Has
England so decreed?"
"Not yet," Anderson admitted, "but that extension, or one equal to it,
will be made one of the conditions of peace."
"We are sure of that, then?"
"Well, we are not sure, but it is only logical to infer such a
condescension will be made."
"I don't agree with you, I am sorry to say, for the English Parliament
may be of another mind when peace and victory have been established."
"You are interrupting the meeting. Please let us continue with our
business," Anderson sharply reproved him.
"I speak for my fellow-citizens here," said Stephen as he turned toward
them with an appealing gesture, "and I maintain that it is our privilege
to know certain matters before we transfer our allegiance."
It was now plain to the company that Anderson was worried. His white
thin lips were firmly compressed as the wrath in his heart blazed within
him. He was aghast at the blow. It had come from a quarter wholly
unexpected. That this fellow in these shabby clothes should be gifted
with a freedom of speech such as to confound him when he thought his
plans realized to the letter, was astounding. Why, he might sway the
minds of the entire assembly! Better to silence him at once, or better
still banish him from the hall than to cope with the possibility of
losing the entire multitude.
"You have interrupted this meeting more than I care to have you, sir. If
you will kindly allow me to proceed with the business before the house I
shall consider it a favor."
"I ask my fellow-citizens here," shouted Stephen by way of reply, "if
you or any man possesses the right to deprive us of free speech,
especially at a time as momentous as this. I ask you, my friends, if I
may continue?"
"Yes!... Go on!... We will hear you!..." were the several acclamations
from the throng.
Anderson heard it with perceptible confusion. He fumbled nervously with
his fingers, wholly ignorant of what to say.
"Let me ask, then," said Stephen, "if the idea of independence is wholly
exclusive of religious toleration. Why are we, a mere handful of men,
about to pledge ourselves to the accomplishment by force of arms what
already is accomplished in our very midst? Freedom of religious worship
is already assured. The several actions of the colonial governing bodies
lend us that assurance. England can do no more for us than already has
been done; and what has been done by the Colonies will be guaranteed by
the elective body of the people in the days of independence. I am
fearful of the hazards that will accompany this enlistment. Give me
leave to address you on this topic that you may understand my troubled
state of mind. I appeal to you. Give me leave to talk."
Whether it was the spontaneous sound issuing from the ranks of those
already initiated into the secret, or whether a chord already attuned in
the hearts and minds of the entire assembly, had been marvelously struck
by him, there was a reverberation of approval throughout the room in
answer to Stephen's plea. So unanimous was the demonstration that
Anderson took alarm. The air of democracy was revealing itself in their
instinctive enthusiasm. And while nothing might result from Stephen's
rambling remarks, still it would afford them consolation that their side
of the question had been aired. To a man they voiced their approval of
the privilege which had been begged.
"Aye!... Speech!... Take the floor!"