When Boston braved the king; a story of tea-party times

Preface

THE story of the Boston Tea-Party has been told many times, but still it offers to the story-teller a tempting theme. One thing which deserves to be brought more prominently to the front is the large share which the young people, the apprentices, the boys in the Latin School, and the Daughters of Lib erty had in the making of public sentiment and the carrying out of daring projects in those momentous days.

This story is intended to be accurate in its repre sentation of historic characters and events ; to give a true picture of life and thought in Boston before the Revolution, and to bring to the front the young people of the time together with their interesting seniors. Among the latter it introduces the warm hearted and impulsive John Crane ; the ever-ready and always intrepid Paul Revere ; the unhappy and misunderstood Governor Hutchinson ; the Quaker

8 PREFACE

owner of the tea-ships, Francis Rotch ; and the jolly old Tory parson, Mather Byles; beside the leaders of public sentiment in that day, Warren, Adams, Hancock, and Mollineux. It endeavors to do justice to the Loyalists, who deserve the privilege of speak ing in their own words to the present generation, and it attempts further to bring into high relief the earnestness and patriotism of those who, in the de struction of the tea, led in the brilliant and historic protest against the aggressions of the British govern ment.

The site of the Liberty Tree is marked with a tablet, but thousands pass it every day unheeding, and too few know what things were done there. It deserves to be remembered as a place not less sacred than Faneuil Hall, the Old South Meeting-house, or Independence Hall.

w. E. B.

BOSTON, March i, 1899.

Contents

CHAPTER PAGE

I. The Two Trentice Lads 13

II. Two Sons of Liberty 26

Chapter I The Two 'prentice Lads

IT was a Monday afternoon in September, in the year 1773. A lad , who had walked over Boston "Neck stopped for a moment under a great spreading elm that grew in the yard of an old-fashioned house on what was then Orange Street, but now is Wash ington Street. The street continued on, but from that corner had another name, — Newbury.

" I think that I have come too far," he said to himself, and looked about for a guide-post. A street led off at right angles, or as nearly at right angles as could be expected in Old Boston, and there was another nearly opposite. " Surely," the lad thought, " there should be a guide-post here for strangers."

He cast his eye toward the tree, and upon its trunk saw a copper tablet: —

'3

"This tree was planted in the year 1646, and pruned by order of the Sons of Liberty, February 14, 1766."

The boy's cheek flushed, and his heart beat faster.

"The Liberty Tree!" he said aloud, "and glad I am to stand beneath it ! "

He set down the bundle, which he had been carry ing upon a stick over his shoulder, and looked about him on every side.

"This must be Liberty Hall,"«he said, "for I have heard that the space about the Tree is so called."

The Tree was of magnificent size and proportions, and had attained a perfection of shape after its trim ming that made it one of the most beautiful elms in Boston. Its spreading limbs diverged from the trunk at symmetrical angles, and the branches bent upward and outward, and then gracefully downward, in sweeping and harmonious curves. The leaves were turning yellow now, and the ground was carpeted with them, but the Tree still hung full, and cast a wide and pleasant shade. John Farwell thought that he had never seen a tree so beautiful. Through its branches rose a flagpole which overtopped it, but there was no flag flying to-day.

John stood so long that he almost forgot his errand, absorbed as he was in the study of the Tree. From his revery he was recalled by the approach of a lad about his own age, though shorter and stouter than himself, carrying under his arm a bundle of papers.

John stopped him as he approached, and asked, "Can you tell me where the house of Mr. Crane is?"

"You mean John Crane?" asked the other.

"The same. John Crane is the name I have been given. I think he lives not far from here."

" Not far, and I'm going by. I'll show you where he lives. He's a great man, is Mr. John Crane."

" So I have been told. He is a carpenter."

" Aye, and much beside, as a lad should know who stands reading the plate on yonder Tree. ' Understandest thou what thou readest?' as Philip asked the Ethiopian ? "

" Aye, though I am no Ethiopian. Yet, like the Ethiopian, would I wish some man to guide me, for this is my first visit to Boston."

" Well, then, I'll be your guide, though I be no more a deacon like Philip, than you an Ethiopian. This Tree, — but the story is known to you?"

" I have known of the Liberty Tree since I was half my present age."

"Which is — ?"

"Seventeen. And yours — ?"

"The same, lacking a year. I was born on Guy Fawkes Day, which is lucky, for I get ever a holiday."

" Mayhap I'll celebrate it with you, since it is not far away. What is your name?"

" Thomas Lawson. It once was Thomas Hutchinson Lawson, for my father had a better opinion of his Excellency than have I. I'll have no Hutchinson in my name. I'll drop it altogether, or I'll change it to Barre, as the town named Hutchinson is about to do. I'd rather be named for the man who stood for our rights in Parliament and gave to us the name we love, ' Sons of Liberty.' "

" But Mr. Hutchinson was not governor when you were born."

"Nay, but at that time he had secured good money for Massachusetts that makes us now out of debt, while Rhode Island with its paper money is poor. And my father honored him for that as he obtained for New England the money due us from

Parliament for the work of the Colonies in the French War. My father fought at Louisburg, and that was why he loved the name. But had he lived till now, he would have hated it, even as I do."

" Your father is dead ? So is mine."

" Aye, and my mother too. And I am 'prentice to Edes & Gill, printers of the Gazette, and it ill be comes me to be standing here talking when my papers are to be delivered. Come, let us go on. No, not that street — that is Essex, and leads not right either for me or you. This is the way we go, down Frog Lane. You came past the street that would have been nearest, which is Nassau. It is a new street, and runs from Frog Lane below the Com mon into Orange." l

"And this is Frog Lane?"

"Aye. It leads past the end of the Common and the burying-ground to the Marshes ; and beyond it lies the Back Bay."

"You leave your papers at the doors?"

1 Washington Street bore several names; the part of it from Dock Square to School Street was called Cornhill; from School to Winter Street it was known as Marlborough; from Winter to Essex it was Neweberry (or Newbury) ; and above Essex Street it was Orange Street. These names were all consolidated into Washington Street about 1823.

" Yes ; I leave one here. This is Dame Snyder's house. Did you ever hear of Chris Snyder ? No ? He lived here.1 His mother is a widow, and he was shot by a Tory named Richardson, from the shop of a tea-selling merchant, Theophilus Lillie, in Middle Street."2

" What did they with the man who killed him ? "

" They were to have hung him, but the Governor would not let so precious a Tory stretch hemp. He is in prison, but on the day of Chris Snyder's funeral there was a board nailed to the Liberty Tree with the text, ' Thou shalt take no satisfaction for the life of a murderer; he shall surely be put to death.''

" At the Liberty Tree ? Is everything in Boston done at the Liberty Tree ? "

" Much of it. The funeral was held there. It was in February, more than two years ago. Well do I remember it, for a week later came the Massacre."

"I know well the date of the Massacre, — the fifth of March," said John.

" Every patriot knows it, nor shall it ever be for-

1 The home of Christopher Snyder was in Frog Lane, now Boylston Street, not far from the site of the Young Men's Christian Union Building. 2 Hanover between Prince Street and Blackstone, then Mill Creek.

THE TWO PRENTICE LADS IQ

gotten. It was the anger of the people over the murder of Snyder that led to the Massacre."

" And they held the funeral out of doors, and in winter ? "

" Aye, for no house would hold the throng. The schools dismissed, the shops closed, the 'prentices had half-holiday, the whole town was there ; six hundred lads from the schools marched in proces sion ; aye, and Old Master Lovell, Tory though he be, was there, and the populace by thousands. There has never been such a funeral in Boston. Come with me a few steps this way, if you are not weary. I have a paper to leave. This is the Common. Yonder on the hilltop is the Beacon, to be fired in time of danger. It is called Sentry Hill, but some call it Beacon Hill ; in this corner of the Common is the bury ing-ground."

" I am most glad to see Boston Common," said John. " I have often desired to see it."

" Where is your home ? " asked Tom. " I have told you so much about Boston I have let you tell me nothing about yourself."

" My home has been in Gloucester. My father was lost at sea, and my mother also is dead. I have been much upon the sea with my father, but never before to Boston. I worked this summer upon a farm at Lexington, and I am coming to be apprenticed to Mr. Crane to become a housewright."

" We shall be at Mr. Crane's house very soon," said Tom. " It is there on the right, and the street which runs across from it is Hollis. On the other corner lives Mr. Lovering. He is a tallow-chandler, and a Son of Liberty, and I leave a paper there. On the opposite corner of Hollis Street, in yon square house, lives Mr. Bradlee,1 who also is a Son of Liberty."

"They all seem to be Sons of Liberty in this end of the town," said John.

" Many of them, but not all. Just beyond Mr. Crane is Mather Byles, the Tory parson, and there on Hollis Street is his church."

" Is his church Tory, too ? "

"A few of his members are Tories, but there is much opposition to him. It is said the members would gladly be rid of him, but he is an old man now and has served them long."

" I have known no Tory parsons," said John, " and

1 The fine old Bradlee House, later known as the Daggett House, was torn down in 1808.

this summer I have heard Mr. Clarke of Lexington, and I warrant you he is no Tory."

" No, nor the most of our preachers. But Byles is unlike the rest."

" What is he like ? sour and stern ? "

" Not at all, but the j oiliest old fellow, in a big wig, and with a hearty laugh. You shall see enough of him, for he lives next door to Mr. Crane. But here you are at the door."

" I am most glad to know you, and trust we shall meet often."

"That will we, for I come with the paper every week, and sometimes oftener of errands to Mr. Crane. Here he is now."

At that moment the door opened, and a stout, thick-set, brawny man of twenty-eight or twenty-nine appeared.

" Eh, you young rascal," he said to Tom, " you're late to-day, I'll warrant. I've waited for that paper this half-hour. Why does not Edes turn thee off and get a swifter devil to run his errands ? Eh ? "

" The paper was printed a little later, sir, for a letter had just come in from Dr. Adams. You'll find it on the second page, and most important, too, sir."

" Whatever Sam Adams writes is worth reading. What says he now ? "

" He calls on the people of the Colonies to form a Continental Congress, sir. There is the letter. And this lad comes to see you, and I will leave him."

" May it please you, sir," said John, stepping for ward, " I am John Farwell, and I have come to be articled to learn to be a housewright."

" Yes, yes, lad, I know. But wait a bit. Stay, can you read ? "

" I can read, sir," said John.

" And so can I, but not so well as I can plane a board or shoot a gun. Here, lad, let me hear you read. Nay, but I want to look over. Sit beside me here. Now read on."

So John sat on the doorstep beside his new master, and read him the carefully-written article in which Samuel Adams called on the Colonies to insist upon such terms as would admit of no other authority within the Colonies than their own legislatures.

" Stay, lad, read not so fast. Let me see what he says," said Crane.

John read him the entire letter. It began with the words, startlingly courageous : —

"The various methods that have been used by the British administration to carry their favorite point of enslaving America is a strong reason why we should be watchful of every maneuvre."

The letter went on, in terms, courteous to the King, but defiant toward the British ministry, to assert the rights of the Colonies. It quoted Frank lin, then in England, concerning the righteousness of the Colonies' protest, and counselled united and constant agitation, believing that, —

" Decent and manly protests against particular in novations have the greatest tendency to an effectual, if not a speedy, removal of them."

John read the letter in a straightforward and intelligent manner. Crane heard it with manifest interest. His own early education had been of a meagre nature, and while he could read and write, and was quick at figures, he was glad to have read to him his more heavy literature. He was a con stant reader of the Gazette, sitting in the twilight of each Monday and poring over it, and spelling out with some difficulty the long words in the articles which Warren, Adams, and other patriots contributed week by week, mostly over Latin pen-names. The leader this week was signed by a simple "A," which revealed at once its authorship.

It was plain that John's reading made a good impression upon his employer. He had begun to read in some uneasiness, little expecting such a test of his fitness to learn the carpenter's trade. But he gathered courage as he proceeded, and had the satisfaction of seeing that Crane counted his reading a manifest improvement upon his own. Like many men of meagre education, he was accustomed to gather thoughts more readily from spoken than from printed words ; and hence, while liking to look over the page, he liked also to hear the spoken words that assisted his own comprehension.

" That man Adams is a great man," said Crane, " and he knows well what his words mean. But if I mistake not, there is but one end to suchlike talk as that, and that is, a free country here. But come in, lad. What did you say is your name ? Come in, John. We will talk about the articles later. What are your qualifica tions to be a housewright ? You can read ? That is well. Are you a Tory, or a lover of liberty ? "

" A lover of liberty," said John, " and so was my father before me."

" And Parson Clarke sends you ? Well, that is enough. To-morrow, mayhap, I'll see if you can drive a nail. But come in now with your bundle, and have a bite to eat. You'll have a cup of milk, maybe ? Or tea such as we make of raspberry leaves ? You'll get no other kind here ! " . At this moment Mrs. Crane appeared, a baby in her arms, and a little girl at her skirt, hiding from the stranger and making coquettish advances toward her father.

" Ah ! you witch, Alice ! " cried Crane, catching the little one up and placing her triumphantly upon his shoulder. " Mehitable, my dear, this lad is John Farwell, who comes to learn to be a housewright. Lad, this is Mistress Crane, whom you must obey as I do. My dear, this lad seems a likely cub, and he can read well, and he comes from Parson Clarke. We've a bit of a room in the attic where I think we can stow him, and we'll keep him in the house with us if he minds well."

And so John was admitted, not only to the shop, but to the home, of John Crane, already distinguished as a soldier, and destined to become a colonel and one of the foremost of the colonial artillery officers in the great war that was even then impending.

Chapter II

JOHN FARWELL spent his first evening in Boston in a happy frame of mind. He had long looked forward to such a future as now seemed opening to him. Since the death of his father he had been alone in the world. All the hopes which he had cherished up to that time seemed suddenly to have come to an end, and to leave him no opening on land or sea. To no one does the earth itself seem so cheerless as to one who has been reared upon the water, and to whom the water has proved unkind. To a Gloucester lad the land is always accepted with an apology, as a poor substitute for man's proper home, the sea. The fisheries of Gloucester had afforded no opportunity for a livelihood since John had been left alone. The proceeds of his father's half-interest in a fishing-boat had hardly

sufficed to pay the bills incurred by his mother's sickness and death, and he had been left alone and penniless.

The summer months had afforded John employ ment near Lexington, and he had given himself to the making of hay. But the farmers were less busy now, and with the autumn he would have been adrift again but for the good offices of Parson Clarke, who, learning that John Crane had need of another ap prentice, secured the place for John.

It seemed to John too good to be true. Boston ! What New England lad has not desired to live there ? What daydream in all John's loneliness had not found its brightest and most impossible feature in a trip to Boston ? In Boston one could be in touch with the world ; in Boston were night-schools, and books, and means of improvement ; in Boston the patriotic sentiment of the Province was most intense ; in Boston one might hope to see, and, perhaps, even to hear, the great patriot leaders ; Boston was the port whence ships sailed to the ends of the earth — the gateway to all glorious lands and journeys; in Boston was all that John had ever hoped for — and his dream had come true ! He sat in the chimney corner by the fire of John Crane, trying to make himself believe that it was a dream. It was true, though almost too good to be true.

Mrs. Crane sat knitting, her foot on the rocker of the cradle. John Crane was reading his Gazette before the fire.

" Here, lad," he said, " read to me a bit. My eyes are not so good as they once were for reading, though never better, I warrant you, for seeing the sights upon a brass cannon. Adams has outdone himself in this letter. Let me light my pipe and listen, while you read it through."

John took the paper and began to read, knowing well that there was little the matter with Crane's eyes, but he had scarcely begun when there came a knock of the old brass knocker on the door.

"Who's at the door? Go, lad, and see," said Mr. Crane ; and John went.

" Is Master Crane within ? " asked a hale voice as John opened the door. " Tell him that Master Re vere would speak with him."

"He is," answered Mr. Crane, before John could speak. " Come in, Paul. I have much to say to you."

TWO SONS OF LIBERTY 2Q

The visitor stepped inside. " Good morrow, John. God save you, Mistress Crane," he said. " How fares this end of Boston ? "

" As well as yours, I warrant. What are you nabobs of the North End doing ? "

- It was evident from their first word that these two friends were given to joking each other, and that the rivalries of the two ends of Boston afforded a continual subject for their mirth.

" Honestly employed for the most part, I warrant. What new mischief hath the South End devised by this time?"

"You'll know, come Guy Fawkes Day. Are your lads to have a pope ? "

" Aye, unless they take George III."

" Ah, Paul ! Your joke ever outruns mine ! Though I doubt not it would suit the temper of many at both Ends. Still, I fancy the King would be better but for his ministers."

" Deceive not yourself, John. The ministers, bad as many of them are, are better than the King. It is that crazy German that sits on England's throne with whom we have to reckon. We have many friends among the commoners, and yet more among the people. It is George himself that is our heavy villain."

" You may be right. But come, draw up your chair, and light a pipe with me."

"That I will," said Paul. "Though I care less for your pipe than for the companionship of Mis tress Crane. It is lonely enough at our house now, madam."

"Are all the children well?" asked Mrs. Crane.

" All well, I thank you, and I hope they may soon be better," replied Paul Revere.

" Better ? Ah, Mr. Revere, I can guess what that means ! "

" Now hear the wisdom of woman ! And what have I said that gives you the right to guess at my meaning further than what the words say ? " asked Revere, mirthfully.

" I have heard," said she.

" Heard ? " he demanded. " Well, and what hast thou heard ? Beshrew me if the old town of Boston be not the worst place for gossip ! "

" I have heard that your children may soon hope for a new mother."

"Ah! that's the way you women do injustice to a widower ! It's enough to drive a man to matrimony to be rid of you ! And whom do the gossips say I am to wed ? "

" I have told you all that has been told thus far. Surely it would be better manners for me to hear that from you."

"That is well done, I confess," said Paul.

" You may as well tell her, Paul," said John. " There's no keeping a secret from her."

" I care little for secrets," said Mrs. Crane, blushing. " It was Mr. Revere who introduced the subject."

"Well, I may as well tell you. I have written it out on a bit of paper. Here it is. No, this is a bill for some work at my shop. Stay ! it's on the other side ! I declare, I've written it on the back of Mr. Greene's bill. I must be gone daft. I'll make a new bill, for I must keep what's on the other side. Listen, I will read it to you."

He took from his pocket a bill on whose face was the account of " Mr. Benjamin Greene " for gold but tons, shoe buckles, and the mending of a spoon, and read : —

"Three-fourths of a Paine that makes Traitors confess, With three parts of a place which the Wicked don't Bless;

Joyne four-sevenths of an exercise which Shop-keepers use, Add what Bad Men do, when they good actions refuse. These four, added together with great care and Art, Will point out the Fair One that is nearest my Heart."

" What's that ? " asked Crane. " I can't make head or tail of it."

" It's long since you were in love," said Revere.

" Not a bit of it. I'm in love still, but I keep my senses, and write no poetry. A man is far gone when he writes poetry. Were you to apply for ad mission to the Sons of Liberty now, you'd be black balled."

" And why ? "

" You are no freeman : nor seek to be."

"Be still with your nonsense," said Mrs. Crane, " and let us find the name."

"Aye, there you go again," said Paul. "You'll not be content till you learn the name of my bride that is to be, and you'll tell it over Boston."

" Tell it ? You think I cannot keep a secret ? "

" I suppose you can, but I talk not of miracles."

" Well, I'll not try to keep it, if you annoy me thus. Read that again."

"'Three-fourths of a Paine that makes Traitors confess, With three parts — ' "

" Stop there ! One line at a time. Now what may that mean? 'Three-fourths of a Paine,' P-a-i — "

" No, no ! That's not it. It's the thing which causes the pain."

" Why did you not say so ? "

" Can you allow nothing for poetic license ? "

" We can hardly expect a man to talk what he means when he is both in poetry and in love."

" Be still, John, and let us learn this riddle. ' Three-fourths of a pain — ' '

" Right so far. Now what pain ? "

"The pain of a cracked head or a broken heart, I'll warrant," said Crane, still intent on his badinage.

" Oh, we can never get on at this rate," said Mrs. Crane. " Come, Mr. Revere, if we were alone, we could guess it, but John will persist in annoying us. Keep us on the rack no longer. We cannot guess it."

"You very nearly guessed it then, my lady," said Revere.

"I have it," said Mrs. Crane. "Rack! Three-fourths of r-a-c-k is R-a-c. Now go on ! "

D

"'With three parts of a place which the Wicked don't Bless; '"

" I can guess that," said Crane.

" I thought you would be able," said Revere.

" But I object to mixing theology with love-mak ing," said Crane.

"R-a-c," spelled Mrs. Crane, " h-e-1 — Rachel ! Rachel who ? "

"'Joyne four-sevenths of an exercise which Shop-keepers use,'"

"That's too far in fractions for me," said Crane. " Here, lad, you have studied. What is ' four-sevenths of a ' — what is it ? "

"An exercise Shop-keepers use," prompted Revere.

"That must be walking," said John Farwell, "for they have little chance for other exercise."

" W-a-1-k-i-n-g, — seven letters," said Mrs. Crane. " We must take four. The first four, is it ? "

" Yes, the first four, though you ask much more help than you have a right."

" I see ! " cried Mrs. Crane. " I know the name now."

"Well, go on with your puzzle," said Crane, "and have done with it. Paul and I would talk politics ! "

" Politics ! " said Mrs. Crane. " You know you're as eager to know whom Mr. Revere is to marry as I am. Do you not get the name yet ? " "-Last syllable," said Paul.

" ( Add what Bad Men do, when they good actions refuse.' "

" Sin," suggested Crane.

" Err," said John Farwell, who, having been invited to make one guess, now ventured another.

"Right, my lad," replied Paul; "and now what name does it make?"

" Rachel Walker," said John. " Though, pardon me, sir, have you not one ' r ' too many ? "

" No matter about that," Paul laughingly answered. " Few great men are good spellers. There's never been a Prime Minister of England yet that spelt the same word every time alike. The name will go right on the record, and 'tis near enough right here for poetry."

" I know Rachel Walker," said Mrs. Crane. " She is an excellent and charming woman. I am glad for your home and children that she is coming. When are you to marry ? "