The Rebels

Front matter

THE REBELS;

OR,

BOSTON BEFORE THE REVOLUTION.

Preface

Nothing is more delightful to the human mind than to ascend from important results to their primitive causes; and surely the Reformation alone has produced as extensive and important effects as the American Revolution: yet how few understand the springs which set that tremendous machine in motion! America is now vigorous and majestic; she dwells in her spacious, sky-canopied home, where the Pacific kisses her feet in homage, and the Atlantic touches her garments, and rolls on more proudly than before. We now hear her youthful shout of freedom loudly echoed by the far-off nations; but while we exultingly exclaim, "To-day our country may stand against the world!" we forget that, but yesterday, none were so poor to do her reverence. Hercules decked with a lion's spoil is before us; but the infant, struggling with serpents, is indistinctly seen in the distance.

True, we talk loudly of the battles we have fought, and the blood we have shed, in our glorious contest; but there are very few among us who duly appreciate the deep wisdom, the passive courage, and the unyielding firmness, of those men, who looked on the mighty torrent of English power, jealously watched its overflowing tide, and fearlessly exclaimed, "Hitherto shalt thou come—but no further." Had I the power to give a faithful picture of the vacillating yet obstinate course of the British ministry, constantly changing their position, in order to elude the dangerous weapons which gleamed around them, and as constantly involving themselves in new and unforeseen difficulties,—were I able minutely to recount the sounds of opposition, which grew louder and louder, as the spirits of men were stirred within them, and their lips touched by a living coal from the altar of freedom,—I fear the number to whom I should impart pleasure would be but small. Surely, however, the domestic annals of those times, when the whole community seemed heaving with the pressure of expanding energies, yet unconscious of the desperate effort that was so soon to tax its utmost strength, cannot fail to interest every American heart.

Thus much for the period I have chosen. How faithfully it has been portrayed, must be left to critics less merciful than myself.

Many will complain that I have dwelt too much on political scenes, familiar to every one who reads our history; and others, on the contrary, will say that the character of the book is quite too tranquil for its title. I might mention many doubts and fears, still more important; but I prefer silently to trust this humble volume to that futurity which no one can foresee, and every one can dread.

Chapter 1

ppoem|{fine} Geve place, you ladies, and be gone,

Boast not yourselves at all;

For here at hand approacheth one

Whose face will stayne you all.

>>> Song of the Sixteenth Century.

There was hurrying to and fro, through the principal streets of Boston, on the night of the 14th of August, 1765. A brilliant bonfire was blazing on Fort Hill. Column after column of light died away, to rise again with redoubled grandeur; and at each succeeding burst of flame, the loud shouts of the rabble were heard with dreadful distinctness.

At this time, Henry Osborne was passing down Union-street, with the rapid pace of one who struggles with the intensity of thought. He leaned a moment on Union Stone, listening to the distant tumult, as he said, "Be the sin on the heads of those who have provoked this,—I have done all I could to prevent it."

As he spoke, a graceful stranger, in a rich military undress, stept from a neighboring court. The moon shone full on the countenances of both, and as he approached, he hesitatingly said, "Mr. Osborne, I believe."

"You are welcome, Captain Somerville," replied the other, giving him his hand.

"Thank you," rejoined the stranger. "I have found you very opportunely; for I have been some time in search of a house which every child in this loyal town might point out to me. The spirit of rebellion, however, has induced some of your promising lads to mislead me by four contradictory directions; and I am not, even now, certain that I am in the vicinity of Governor Hutchinson."

"We are very near his dwelling," replied Osborne; "and I myself will accompany you thither, to meet my sister, whom I left there this afternoon."

A few questions relative to the riot were asked by the officer, and obviously avoided by his companion, before they arrived at Friezel-court.

Both paused a moment opposite the lieutenant governor's elegant mansion, struck by the uncommon beauty, and almost fearful stillness, of the scene. The dim light of a lamp suspended from the roof gave a rich twilight view of the interior, and displayed a spacious arch, richly carved and gilded, in all the massy magnificence of the times, and most tastefully ornamented with busts and statues. The light streamed full on the soul-beaming countenance of Cicero, and playfully flickered on the brow of Tulliola, the tenderness of whose diminutive appellation delightfully associates the father with the orator, and blends intellectual vigor with the best affections of the heart.

The silence was so deep that the gentlemen could distinctly hear a light, quick step, as a young lady passed from room to room, and paused beneath the arch, in a listening attitude.

The exquisite proportion of her aerial little figure, and her beauty, pale and unearthly as Guido has represented his Madonnas, showed finely beneath the severely intellectual brow of Cicero. In the living figure, the soul was shrouded in its loveliest and most transparent veil; in the marble, its glowing fires seemed gleaming through the shrine they were consuming.

"It is my sister Grace," whispered Osborne.

"Grace, indeed!" ejaculated his companion, in a tone of fervent admiration.

"Hark!" said she, raising her beautiful finger, and speaking to some one behind her,—"as I live, there is the murmur of voices now. How could the servants leave us thus?"

She turned, and the last fold of her blue drapery was just disappearing, when Henry exclaimed, "It is I, dear Grace."

The tiny beauty bounded to the door. "I am so glad you have come,—we have been so frightened!" said she; and she paused, and blushed deeply, as she noticed the handsome stranger.

"My sister, Captain Somerville," said Henry, evidently proud of her heightened loveliness.

A dignified courtesy answered the courtly salutation of the officer; and her brother, turning to two other ladies that now advanced, said, "Her friend, Lucretia Fitzherbert, and Madam Sandford."

The ceremony of introduction over, Miss Sandford opened a door on the right hand, and led the way into a dimly lighted parlor. The panelling was of the dark, richly shaded mahogany of St. Domingo, and ornamented with the same elaborate skill as the hall they had just quitted. The busts of George III. and his young queen were placed in front of a splendid mirror, with bronze lamps on each side, covered with beautiful transparencies, one representing the destruction of the Spanish armada, the other giving a fine view of a fleet of line-of-battle ships, drawn up before the rock of Gibraltar. On either side of the room, there were arches surmounted with the arms of England, in the recesses of which the company were soon seated, forming a group of an exceedingly varied and interesting character. The sharp countenance and prim figure of Miss Sandford gave her the air of an antediluvian image; the inelegant form and very plain face of Lucretia, though transiently lighted up with expression that almost atoned for the want of beauty, formed a contrast extremely favorable to the ethereal loveliness of Grace; and the Grecian outline of Henry's mild countenance served to place in bold relief the aquiline nose, and the open, fearless brow of Somerville, shaded by a profusion of curls, as dark and clustering as the beautiful locks of the Roman Antinous.

"Uncle Hutchinson has expected you several days," said Lucretia, as Somerville seated himself. "You wrote that you should sail in the William and Mary; and a vessel arrived, several days since, which had spoken her, below the harbor."

"It was many miles below the harbor, however," answered Somerville; "and I was becalmed, according to my usual fortune. After so many delays, I am really anxious to meet my uncle."

"He would, of course, have been among the first to welcome you, had he been at home," she replied; "but, followed by all the servants, he has gone to watch the bonfires on Fort Hill; where, I suppose, either indignation or anxiety has led two thirds of the population."

"I have heard some brief hints of this day's uproar," rejoined the Englishman; "but I could not have imagined any cause powerful enough to seduce Governor Hutchinson from the place where beauty clained his protection."

"Nor would there have been, in my day," said Miss Sandford, in the squeaking tones of antiquated coquetry. "It was a toilsome process to please a lady, when I was young; but times are sadly altered now."

"I dare say Cain scolded his wife about the degeneracy of the ladies in Nod," said Lucretia, laughing.

"And Cain might have reproached his mother, since, lacking mortals, she carried on her dangerous flirtation with Satan," continued Somerville.

No one smiled at this speech, for its levity was offensive to those whose associations with the Bible were all sacred; and to Henry Osborne, the irreverence it argued was peculiarly painful.

Anxious to interrupt the awkward silence, Lucretia hastily said, "My uncle left the servants with us; but, after all, it seems that bonnets and hats cover brains of very similar formation; for, one by one, the eagerness of curiosity tempted them from us, till we were left to the protection of Aunt Sandford."

"And really we have been much frightened," added Grace. "I had no idea the citizens of Boston could utter sounds so terrific as those we have heard to-night."

"It would be well if their echo could reach across the Atlantic," observed her brother.

"And what would be heard, if they did?" asked Somerville.

"Liberty and property! No stamps!" exclaimed Henry, with startling energy.

A darkening expression passed over the fine face of Somerville, as rapidly as the shadows of autumnal clouds over the sunny brow of some verdant hill.

"Then you," said he, "are among the unhappy men who encourage popular outrage, and will thus drive the mother country to severity repugnant to her nature?"

"You talk, sir, as many others do, who know nothing of the subject," rejoined Henry. "You mistake the unanimous voice of a free and intelligent people, for the factious zeal of a few office-seeking demagogues."

"And what further proof need we than James Otis, the Aaron of your tribes, the Goliath of your hosts? Had his father been chief justice of the Supreme Court, the world would have lost his fiery speech against writs of assistance, as well as his never-ceasing clamor about taxation without representation."

"That is a common, but most unjust slander upon the character of a generous and noble-minded man. He is disgusted, as every honest individual must be, with that rapacity for office which distinguishes some friends of the administration; but he is too high-minded to place the interest of his family above that of his country. Besides, if avarice or ambition guides the course of James Otis, why is he not a tory? The ministry would gladly buy him over, on any conditions."

"Crystals would fetch the price of diamonds, if they were as rare," replied Somerville. "England has quite too many great men, to come and purchase in such a market as her colonies."

"We have some, however, that Britain herself might be proud to boast. Such men as Adams, Hawley, Quincy, Hancock, Mayhew, and Otis, would even there obtain the influence and reputation which talents, joined with integrity, never fail to procure, from those who can appreciate them."

"Stop, now, dear brother," said Grace, playfully putting her hand before his mouth. "Governor Hutchinson is coming, and I cannot have you always disputing about subjects on which you will never agree."

The shadow of the chief justice darkened the threshold as she finished speaking. He bowed to the ladies with all the Parisian gallantry that usually characterized his manner; and after warm congratulations had passed between him and his nephew, he inquired,

"What news from England?"

"Nothing new to you, I imagine, sir. Lord Bute's ministry continues to keep the king unpopular among the commons. Chatham holds the people in the hollow of his hand; and if his demands for himself and friends were not so excessively exorbitant, a coalition of parties would no doubt be formed, and he would be, what he has long desired to be, secretary of state, and disposer-general of offices."

"And the queen and the young princes?" said Hutchinson.

"Her popularity is unbounded. She and her rosy children unite all parties. Prince George is as handsome and clever a scion as ever sprung from a royal root; the Duke of York is healthy and promising; and a third is now added to the charming family group."

"And the king is as gallant as ever, I suppose?"

"Too much so to leave three distressed damsels to guard a house on such a night as this, I fancy," said Lucretia, smiling.

"Nay," said the lieutenant governor, "I will not plead guilty to that charge. I left the servants with you, and I knew the rioters were employed at a safe distance. Besides, it would have been ungenerous in me to have deserted Mr. Oliver, if there was the least chance of being useful to him. Then there is your friend Doctor Byles, Lucretia; it behooved me to inquire about his safety; for we well know that his wit and his loyalty make him very abominable in the eyes of this liberty-mad race."

Mr. Osborne frowned, and Grace looked more grave than usual.

O, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful in the contempt and anger of that lip, said the gallant chief justice, handing her a handkerchief that had just fallen on the floor. "But really, Mr. Osborne, the scenes of this day and night must convince the most obstinate whig that the designs of the popular party in these colonies are altogether subversive of good government, and must eventually bring ruin on the people."

"I know not the extent of your meaning, when you speak of the popular party, sir," replied Osborne; "but of one thing I am very certain, and that is, that outrages of any kind have never been incited, and will never be countenanced, by such men as Adams, Quincy, Hancock, and Whiting. Indeed, it is worse than foolish, Governor Hutchinson, to trace the present commotions to the party spirit of individuals. The truth is, whenever government heap up combustibles, a hand will always be found ready to kindle them; and if it were otherwise, they would take fire spontaneously."

"And what damage has been occasioned by the explosion, this time?" inquired Somerville.

"They have merely suspended images of Lord Bute and your cousin Oliver upon the Liberty-tree; razed Oliver's stamp-office to the ground; carried the images and timber to Fort Hill; burned them before his house; pulled down his fences; broken his windows, and destroyed some furniture," answered the lieutenant governor.

"This will doubtless sound well at St. James', and will mightily serve to heighten the king's respect for Bostonian loyalty," said the young officer.

"It may, at least, serve to convince his most gracious majesty that we are in earnest," rejoined Henry.

The politics of the gentlemen, and the confidential tête-à-tête of the ladies, were here interrupted by the entrance of fruit and wine. A light and general conversation ensued, and in a few moments Grace rose to depart.

"You have forbidden politics once, this evening, Miss Osborne," said Somerville; "and I perceive, by your glances at your brother, that you think us most disobedient. However, I trust you will forgive what the circumstances of the night seem to have compelled; and permit me to say, that I am particularly rejoiced that in meeting Mr. Osborne, I not only met an old friend, whom I had known in England, but likewise, your brother."

Grace slightly blushed, and said she hoped no unhappy political divisions would interrupt their former friendship.

Osborne warmly seconded his sister's wish, and extended a polite invitation to the uncle of his friend.

"I see no reason why you should leave us at all to-night, my dear Miss Osborne," said Hutchinson.

"Why, Grace would think me a lunatic, if I should propose to her to live one night without her father's kiss and blessing," said Lucretia.

"And not far from right, my mad-capped niece," replied he, playfully touching her shoulder. "However, as you both will; you know your lovely friend is always welcome twenty-four hours in a day."

Grace smiled and bowed. Somerville took his hat, said that nothing but such a cause could tempt a few moments' absence, and joined the young people as they left the house.

Chapter 2

ppoem|{fine} Fortune, the great commandress of the world, Hath divers ways to advance her followers; To some she gives wealth, some wit, &c. >> All Fools.

Captain Fitzherbert, the father of Lucretia, was the youngest son in a family of noble connections and moderate wealth. In his youth, he was sent to Manilla, at the request of a bachelor uncle, who promised his immense fortune as a reward for his affectionate attentions. This uncle proved tormentingly nervous, and his whims and caprices daily became more intolerable to a young man of the most haughty independence and stubborn inflexibility of character. He wrote a letter to his father, earnestly entreating permission to return to England. The answer he received was partly in the language of reason, partly of authority, and ended by expressly forbidding him to leave the East Indies during the life-time of his uncle.

From that moment, he resolved to enter the career of life for himself, and to spurn at the support which must be purchased by years of servile dependence. He collected all his money and jewels, procured the disguise of a common sailor, and came over to America, alone and unfriended. The new world then opened a fine field for enterprise, and he soon accumulated property. He had been for some time successfully engaged in navigation, when he first met Matilda Howe, at Halifax. She was a beautiful and destitute orphan, with great sweetness of manners and of temper; and these qualifications had so much weight with the young English captain, that he very soon gave her legal claims to his protection. Pride had hitherto induced him to conceal his existence from his friends; but he was now rich, and he felt anxious to secure their friendship, for the sake of his lovely wife. For this purpose, he left her, a few months after their marriage, intending to arrange some business in the West Indies, and from thence proceed to Liverpool, and discover himself to his family.

A short letter from Cuba was all that she ever after received from him; nor was it long before she heard the dreadful tidings of his shipwreck.

After the birth of the infant Lucretia, Mrs. Fitzherbert proposed to the executors to examine the papers of her deceased husband. To her utter astonishment and dismay, she found that his strong box had been opened, and every paper of any value removed. It was afterwards reported that, during Mrs. Fitzherbert's sickness, many of the notes were presented by a middle-aged man, and paid by the unsuspecting debtors, who supposed that a legal transfer had taken place. Whoever this villain was, no trace of him could afterwards be discovered.

The distressed mother wrote two letters to England, imploring assistance from her husband's relations. The first received an insolent answer, disclaiming all knowledge of such a being as young Edmund Fitzherbert, and reproaching her with the grossness of her impudence. The second was returned in a blank envelope.

Bowed down with affliction, the heart-broken widow soon after expired, leaving her child to the care of benevolent acquaintances.

The rent of a small house, all that remained of her father's large property, saved the orphan from the misery of entire dependence; but her young heart was as blithe as if thousands had been her portion.

When Lucretia was in her thirteenth year, it chanced that Miss Sandford, the maiden sister of Mrs. Hutchinson, visited Halifax, and was taken ill at the house where she resided. The overflowing kindness and unremitting attention of the child won upon the stranger's heart, and she formed the resolution of taking her under her own immediate protection. This lady, who possessed many foibles, united with much shrewdness and great goodness of heart, brought the insulated little being with her, when she returned to the dwelling of Governor Hutchinson.

To his good opinion, the orphan possessed two very sure passports. One was an honorable English name; the other, a portion, scanty, indeed, but sufficient to prevent any large expenditure on the part of Miss Sanford, whose property, he thought, would eventually devolve upon him.

Anxious to ascertain whether her father's story had really been an imposture, he caused minute inquiries to be made in England, but could only ascertain that the name had become extinct, and that a large estate in Manilla had been settled on a remote collateral branch of the family. This last account seemed to tally with the captain's story, and in the governor's mind it established the important point of honorable birth; and though there was, seemingly, no hope that Lucretia would ever become an heiress, we must do him the justice to say, that he treated her with extreme kindness, up to the period we have mentioned.

The morning after Somerville's arrival, Governor Hutchinson found a large package on his library table, which his nephew had placed there, at an early hour. He opened it, and found a polite letter from Goldsmith, accompanied by the "Traveller," then recently published in England; two long and labored epistles from Lord North and Mr. Grenville; and an anonymous production, with the signature of the mitre, urging gentleness, discretion, and open dealing, with the discontented colonies. These papers were read with avidity; and could some of them now be found, they would throw additional light on the political hypocrisy of the chief justice.

The last-opened letter completely arrested his attention. It was as follows:

"Honored Sir:

"A friend of mine, who has lately returned to England, accidentally mentioned meeting Miss Fitzherbert at your house. May I ask who this Miss Fitzherbert is? I have been in my native country but a short time,—I am a bachelor,—and my health is exceedingly precarious. It is therefore important that I should know her history and connections immediately.

"Copley is now in New England, and I should like to have him take her picture for me. I will pay all expenses, whether the event be as I hope, or not. Omit no particulars concerning her father, and have all the documents well authenticated.

A long conference between the governor, Miss Sandford, and Lucretia, terminated in sending a note to Doctor Byles, requesting his attendance, as soon as convenient, to converse on some particular business. A servant was speedily despatched to Nassau-street, and soon returned with an answer that promised an early call. Before two hours had elapsed, Lucretia heard the well-known sound of his gold-headed cane, as it struck on the stone steps of the dwelling; and hastened to show him into the library.

He was a middle-sized man, with a large, closely curled wig, and an expression of face as strangely contradictory as his very singular character. There was a sanctity about his mouth, evidently induced by long habit; but nature peeped out at his eye with unrestrained drollery.

"Wherefore am I summoned?" said he, planting his cane firmly on the threshold of the door. "Has Jethro cut his little finger? Has Aunt Sandford been backbiting her neighbors till her double-teeth ache? Or have the rebels more symptoms of the cholic?"

"None of these things have befallen us," answered the governor, smiling; "I want to consult you about Lucretia's affairs."

"What affairs can she have, pray? No design of wearing Hymen's saffron robe. I trust?"

"They say it is a garment often bought," observed Lucretia; "and it is money which Uncle Hutchinson wishes to talk with you about."

The governor placed the letter in his hand, and remarked, "With all your contempt of wealth, you will not wonder that its contents are highly interesting to us."

"It is, indeed, of consequence that it should be attended to," said he; "but what is to be done?"

"All the evidence that can possibly be collected must be immediately committed to paper. I have heard you say, that you saw Captain Fitzherbert, in your youth. I believe you and Madam Sandford will be my most valuable evidence."

Now, to this lady, the reverend doctor had a most unconquerable aversion. Some said it was because he suspected her of forming designs on his liberty, while he was a widower. To this charge she never condescended to give any other answer than, "It would be strange if I should seek such a punishment, when nothing worse than biles could be found wherewith to afflict Job."

Perhaps it might be this same habit of paying him in his own coin, which had first created a dislike. Be that as it may, he lost no opportunity of railing at her; and when Lucretia was desired to call her, he exclaimed, "O dear—that Miss Sandford! I have such a phobia of her! From morning till night she is clattering about the faults and follies of her neighbors; and as for her own character, it is a dark lantern,—nobody sees the bright side but herself."

Governor Hutchinson looked upon his friend as a privileged person, and took no notice of these and similar remarks; but they were always distressing to Lucretia, and she had just whispered, "I beg of you not to talk in this way," when Miss Sandford entered, and wished him good-morning.

"Good-morning, Madam Sandford," said the doctor, rising. "Hem! Pray, Governor Hutchinson, have you the Gossip, or the Tatler, or the Busy-body, in your library?"

"I thought the last was usually in Doctor Byles' presence," observed Miss Sandford, sweeping past him, in great indignation.

"A truce with such contests," said her brother-in-law. "I wish to ascertain how much both of you know concerning Captain Fitzherbert."

Doctor Byles then proceeded to details exactly corresponding to the story we have already told. "I remember," said he, "hearing Captain Fitzherbert speak of his escape from Manilla. He was a proud-spirited man, and nothing on the earth, or beneath it, could compel him to an action. He used to say he had rather be a ploughboy in America, than a prince in the East Indies."

"I have heard that remark of my father's repeated several times," said Lucretia.

"And, you know, the lady with whom you boarded after your mother's death used to tell many anecdotes about his Manilla uncle," said Miss Sandford. "Do you remember her accounts of his chocolate-colored gown, the monkey that saw fit to hide his wig in the chimney, and the favorite old servant that used to lie on his back and fiddle all day?"

"All this is nothing to the purpose," said Doctor Byles, sternly. "Women should only speak when it is necessary."

"All these trifling details will serve to authenticate the story," observed the governor. "Do you know whether Captain Fitzherbert ever heard from his relations, after he left them?"

"I have heard that he was once taken ill with a fever, and carried to Chelsea Hospital," replied Lucretia; "and that his father was one of the visiting committee, and used frequently to give him cordials with his own hand; but time and sickness had so changed my father, that he did not know him; and his pride would not submit to an avowal, under such circumstances."

"That was strength of nerve, indeed," said Hutchinson, "to meet a father in a foreign land, and yet remain incog. But, bless my heart! why have none of us thought of Mr. Townsend?—he was one of the executors."

"What, Townsend, of Roxbury, who lives in a house leaking at every pore, goes to bed before dark to save his candles, and wears a garment woven before Deucalion's deluge?"

"Just so, Doctor Byles; and is worth thousands of pounds, for all that," replied the governor. "Lucretia, sit down and write a note to Mr. Townsend, requesting him to come here; and send Jethro with the carriage."

"I love that scatter-brained girl, in spite of myself," said Doctor Byles, as she left the apartment. "Did you notice the tears in her eyes, when we talked of her mother? I believe there was some great villany about her father's property."

"People do say this Mr. Townsend is no better than he should be," rejoined Miss Sandford.

"Did you ever hear of anybody that was?" said Doctor Byles.

"If I had, I should have heard a fact you will never know by experience," answered she.

"Surely you have touched the doctor's garments," said her brother, laughing.

"At any event, wit made a strange mistake when it popped into her brain," rejoined her unwearied tormentor.

Some more conversation followed, the particulars of which were interesting only to the parties concerned; and the governor was busy in committing the various facts to paper, when Jethro arrived with Mr. Townsend. He was an old man, with a black cap pulled closely over his shaggy eye-brows, a wrinkled face, a thread-bare coat, and patched small-clothes, tied above the knee with leathern strings.

The rising smile was checked by the politeness of the chief justice, who handed him a chair, and after a few general inquiries, spoke of the business for which he had summoned him.