Chapter 3

Robert thought he never had seen a smile more gracious than that upon her pale, careworn countenance.[13] He noticed that everything about the room was plain, but neat and tidy. Upon a shelf were the Bible, Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress, and a volume of Reverend Mr. South's sermons. Robert remembered his father said Mrs. Adams was the daughter of Reverend Mr. Checkley, minister of the New South Meetinghouse, and that Mr. Adams went to meeting there. Upon the table were law books, pamphlets, papers, letters, and newspapers. He saw that some of the letters bore the London postmark. He remembered his father said Mr. Adams had not much money; that he was so dead in earnest in maintaining the rights of the people he had little time to attend to his own affairs.

[Footnote 13: Mrs. Adams was the daughter of Reverend Samuel Checkley, pastor of the New South Church, which stood on Church Green at the junction of Summer and Bedford streets. She was a woman of much refinement and intelligence, and greatly beloved.]

"Will you be in town through the week and over the Sabbath?" Mr. Adams asked.

Robert replied that he intended to visit his relatives, Mr. and Mrs. Brandon, on Copp's Hill.

"Oh yes, my friend the shipbuilder--a very worthy gentleman, and his wife an estimable lady. They have an energetic and noble daughter and a promising son. I have an engagement to-night, another to-morrow, but shall be at home to-morrow evening, and I would like to have you and your young friends take supper with us. I will tell you something that your father would like to know."

Robert thanked him, and took his departure. Thinking that Doctor Warren probably would be visiting his patients at that hour of the day, he drove to the Green Dragon, and put Jenny in her stall, and after dinner made his way to the goldsmith's shop to find a present for Rachel.

Mr. Paul Revere, who had gold beads, brooches, silver spoons, shoe and knee buckles, clocks, and a great variety of articles for sale, was sitting on a bench engraving a copper plate. He laid down his graving-tool and came to the counter. Robert saw he had a benevolent face; that he was hale and hearty.

"I would like to look at what you have that is pretty for a girl of eighteen," said Robert.

Mr. Revere smiled as if he understood that the young man before him wanted something that would delight his sweetheart.

"I want it for my sister," Robert added.

Mr. Revere smiled again as he took a bag filled with gold beads from the showcase.

"I think you cannot find anything prettier for your sister than a string of beads," he said. "Women and girls like them better than anything else. They are always in fashion. You will not make any mistake, I am sure, in selecting them."

He held up several strings to the light, that Robert might see how beautiful they were.

"I would like to look at your brooches."

While the goldsmith was taking them from the showcase, he glanced at the pictures on the walls, printed from plates which Mr. Revere had engraved.

The brooches were beautiful--ruby, onyx, sapphire, emerald, but after examining them he turned once more to the beads.

"They are eighteen carats fine, and will not grow dim with use. I think your sister will be delighted with them."

Robert thought so too, and felt a glow of pleasure when they were packed in soft paper and transferred from the case to his pocket.

With the afternoon before him he strolled the streets, looking at articles in the shop windows, at the clock on the Old Brick Meetinghouse, the barracks of the soldiers,--the king's Twenty-Ninth Regiment.[14] Some of the redcoats were polishing their gun barrels and bayonets, others smoking their pipes. Beyond the barracks a little distance he saw Mr. Gray's ropewalk. He turned through Mackerel Lane and came to the Bunch of Grapes Tavern,[15] and just beyond it the Admiral Vernon. He strolled to Long Wharf. The king's warship, Romney, was riding at anchor near by, and a stately merchant ship was coming up the harbor. The fragrance of the sea was in the air. Upon the wharf were hogsheads of molasses unloaded from a vessel just arrived from Jamaica. Boys had knocked out a bung and were running a stick into the hole and lapping the molasses. The sailors lounging on the wharf were speaking a language he could not understand. For the first time in his life he was in touch, as it were, with the great world beyond the sea.

[Footnote 14: The troops were ordered to Boston in 1765, in consequence of the riots growing out of the passage of the Stamp Act, the mob having sacked the house of Chief Justice Thomas Hutchinson. Though the Stamp Act had been repealed, and though the citizens were orderly and law-abiding, the regiments remained.]

[Footnote 15: The Bunch of Grapes Tavern stood on the corner of Mackerel Lane and King Street, now Kilby and State streets. Its sign was three clusters of grapes. It was a noted tavern, often patronized by the royal governors. In July, 1776, the Declaration of Independence was read to the people from its balcony. After hearing it they tore the lion and unicorn, and all emblems of British authority, from the Custom House, Court House, and Town House, and made a bonfire of them in front of the tavern.]

During the day he had met several of the king's soldiers, swaggering along the streets as if privileged to do as they pleased, regardless of the people. Two, whom he had seen drinking toddy in the Admiral Vernon, swayed against him.

"Hello, clodhopper! How's yer dad and marm?" said one.

Robert felt the hot blood mount to his brow.

"Say, bumpkin, how did ye get away from your ma's apron-string?" said the other.

"He hasn't got the pluck of a goslin," said the first.

Robert set his teeth together, but made no reply, and walked away. He felt like pitching them headforemost into the dock, and was fearful he might do something which, in cooler blood, he would wish he had not done.

By what right were they strolling the streets of an orderly town? Those who supported the king said they were there to maintain the dignity of the crown. True, a mob had battered the door of Thomas Hutchinson, but that had been settled. The people were quiet, orderly, law-abiding. The sentinel by the Town House glared at him as he walked up King Street, as if ready to dispute his right to do so. He saw a bookstore on the corner of the street, and with a light heart entered it. A tall, broad-shouldered young man welcomed him.

"May I look at your books?" Robert asked.

"Certainly; we have all those recently published in London, and a great many pamphlets printed here in the Colonies," the young man replied.

"I live in the country. We do not have many books in New Hampshire," said Robert.

"Oh, from New Hampshire? Please make yourself at home, and look at any book you please. My name is Henry Knox,"[16] said the young man.

[Footnote 16: Mr. Knox was clerk in the bookstore kept by Daniel Henchman. In 1773 he began business on his own account on Cornhill now Washington Street, upon the site now occupied by the _Globe_ newspaper. His store was frequented by the officers of the regiments, and doubtless he obtained from them information that he turned to good account during the war.]

"I am Robert Walden."

"I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Walden, and shall be glad to render you any service in my power. Is this your first visit to town?"

Robert said it was. He could only gaze in wonder at the books upon the shelves. He had not thought there could be so many in the world. Mr. Knox saw the growing look of astonishment.

"What can I show you? Perhaps you do not care for sermons. We have a good many; ministers like to see their sermons in print. I think perhaps you will like this better," said Mr. Knox, taking down a copy of the Arabian Nights' Entertainments. "You will find it very interesting; just sit down and look at it."

Robert seated himself in a chair and read the story of the Forty Thieves.

"Do you think these are true stories?" he asked when he had finished it.

Mr. Knox replied they were true in so far as they described the manners and customs of the people of Arabia and Persia. He did not doubt the stories had been told in Babylon, Nineveh, and Damascus, and he might think of the people in those cities sitting in the calm evenings under the almond-trees on the banks of the Euphrates or the river Abana listening to the story-teller, who probably did his best to make the story entertaining.

"Doubtless," said Mr. Knox, "we think it would not be possible for things to happen as they are narrated, but I am not quite sure about that. One of the stories, for instance, tells how a man went through the air on a carpet. We think it cannot be true, but here is a pamphlet which tells how Henry Cavendish, in England, a little while ago discovered a gas which he calls hydrogen. It is ten times lighter than air--so light that another gentleman, Mr. Black, filled a bag with it which took him off his feet and carried him round the room, to the astonishment of all who beheld it. I shouldn't be surprised if by and by we shall be able to travel through the air by a bag filled with such gas."

Robert listened with intense interest, not being able to comprehend how anything could be lighter than air. He was not quite sure that his father and mother would approve of his reading a book that was not strictly true, and he was sure that the good minister and deacons of the church would shake their heads solemnly were they to know it; but he could read it on his way home and hide it in the haymow and read it on rainy days in the barn. But that would not be manly. No, he could not do that. He would tell his father and mother and Rachel about it, and read it to them by the kitchen fire. Hit or miss, he would purchase the book.

Mr. Knox kindly offered to show him the Town House. They crossed the street, and entered the council chamber. Lieutenant-Governor Hutchinson and the members of the council were sitting in their armchairs, wearing white wigs and scarlet cloaks. Their gold-laced hats were lying on their desks. Lieutenant-Colonel Dalrymple, commanding the king's troops, was seated by the side of Governor Hutchinson as a visitor. Upon the walls were portraits of Kings Charles II. and James II. in gilded frames; also portraits of Governors Winthrop, Endicott, and Bradstreet.

Thanking Mr. Knox for his kindness, Robert passed into the street, took a look at the stocks and pillory, and wondered if that was the best way to punish those who had committed petty offenses.

He saw a girl tripping along the street. A young lieutenant in command of the sentinels around the Town House stared rudely at her. In contrast to the leering look of the officer, the negro servants filling their pails at the pump were very respectful in giving her room to pass. He saw the two soldiers who had attempted to pick a quarrel with him on the wharf, emerge from an alley. One chucked the young lady under the chin: the other threw his arm around her and attempted to steal a kiss. Robert heard a wild cry, and saw her struggle to be free. With a bound he was by her side. His right arm swung through the air, and his clenched fist came down like a sledge-hammer upon the head of the ruffian, felling him to the earth. The next moment the other was picked up and plunged headforemost into the watering-trough. No word had been spoken. The girl, as if not comprehending what had happened, stood amazed before him.

"Thank you, sir; I never shall forget your kindness," she said, dropping a low courtesy and walking rapidly up Queen Street.

Never before had he seen a face like hers, a countenance that would not fade from memory, although he saw it but a moment.

Suddenly he found himself confronted by the lieutenant, who came running from the Town House, with flashing eyes and drawn sword. Robert did not run, but looked him squarely in the face.

"What do you mean, you"--

The remainder of the sentence is not recorded: the printed page is cleaner without it.

"I meant to teach the villains not to insult a lady."

"I've a good mind to split your skull open," said the lieutenant, white with rage, but not knowing what to make of a man so calm and resolute.

"Let me get at him! Let me get at him! I'll knock the daylight out of him," shouted the fellow whom Robert had felled to the ground, but who had risen and stood with clenched fists. The other, the while, was clambering from the trough, wiping the water from his face and ready to rush upon Robert, angered all the more by the jeers of the grinning negroes.

"What is all this about?"

It was Lieutenant-Colonel Dalrymple speaking. He had seen the commotion from the window of the council chamber, and hastened to the scene. "Put up your sword," he said to the lieutenant.

"What have you been doing, sir?" he asked, turning sternly to Robert.

"Suppose you first ask those two fellows what they've been doing? Nevertheless, Colonel, lest you might not get a true answer, allow me to say that they insulted a lady, that I knocked one down and tossed the other into the watering-trough, to teach them better manners. For doing it your lieutenant has seen fit to draw his sword and threaten to split my head open."

It was said quietly and calmly.

"What have you to say to that?" Colonel Dalrymple asked, addressing the soldiers, who made no reply.

"Lieutenant, take them to the guardhouse, and consider yourself under arrest till I can look into this matter. Don't you know better than to draw your sword against a citizen in this way?"

The lieutenant made no reply, but looked savagely at Robert, as if to say, "I'll have it out with you sometime," sheathed his sword and turned away, following the crestfallen soldiers to the guardhouse.

Colonel Dalrymple bowed courteously, as if to apologize for the insult to the lady. Robert came to the conclusion that he was a gentleman.

The negroes were laughing and chuckling and telling the rapidly gathering crowd what had happened. Robert, having no desire to be made conspicuous, walked up Queen Street. He tarried a moment to look at the iron-grated windows and double-bolted doors of the jail, then turned down Hanover Street and made his way to the Green Dragon.

III.

THE SONS OF LIBERTY.

"Is it far to Doctor Warren's house?" Robert asked of the landlord after supper.

"Oh no, only a few steps around the corner on Hanover Street. So you are going to call on him, just as your father always does. You will find him a nice gentleman. He is kind to the poor, charging little or nothing when they are sick and need doctoring. He isn't quite thirty years old, but there isn't a doctor in town that has a larger practice. He is a true patriot. I heard a man say the other day that if Joe Warren would only let politics alone he would soon be riding in his own coach. The rich Tories don't like him much. They say it was he who gave Governor Bernard such a scorching in Ben Edes's newspaper awhile ago. He is eloquent when he gets fired up. You ought to hear him in town meeting; you won't find him stuck up one mite; you can talk with him just as you do with me."

With the cheese under his arm Robert walked along Hanover Street to Doctor Warren's house[17]. It was a wooden building standing end to the road. Entering a small yard, he rattled the knocker on the door. The doctor opened it.

[Footnote 17: The home of Doctor Warren stood upon the spot now occupied by the American House. It was a plain structure and was surrounded a garden. Mrs. Warren--Elizabeth Hooton before marriage--was the daughter of Richard Hooton, a merchant possessing large wealth. She was beautiful in person and character. She died May, 1773. The Boston _Gazette_ contained an appreciative tribute to her worth.

"Good sense and modesty with virtue crowned; A sober mind when fortune smiled or frowned. So keen a feeling for a friend distressed, She could not bear to see a man oppressed."]

"Good-evening; will you walk in?" he said. It was a pleasant, cheery voice, one to make a sick person feel well.

"Please step into the office."

Robert entered a room smelling of rhubarb, jalap, ipecac, and other medicines in bottles and packages on the shelves.

Sincere and hearty were the thanks of Doctor Warren for the present.

"I want Mrs. Warren to make your acquaintance," he said.

A beautiful woman entered and gave Robert a cordial greeting.

"It is very kind of you to bring us such a gift. It is not the first time your father has made us happy," she said. "We must find some way, husband, to let Mr. Walden know we appreciate his kindness."

"That is so, wife."

"We live so far away," said Robert, "we do not know what is going on. Father wishes me especially to learn the latest news from London in regard to the proposed tax on tea, and what the Colonies are going to do about it."

"That is a very important matter," the doctor replied, "and we are to have a meeting of the Sons of Liberty this evening to consider what shall be done in case the bill now before Parliament becomes a law, as I have no doubt it will. I shall be pleased to have you go with me. Of course our meetings are somewhat secret. We do not care to have any mousing Tory know just what we intend to do. You will have a hearty welcome from the boys. It is only a few steps from here, at the Green Dragon."

"That is where I am stopping," Robert replied.

"You can say to your father," the doctor continued, "that the redcoats are becoming very insolent, and we fear there will be trouble."

Robert said nothing about his experience at the town pump.

"Tommy Hutchinson," the doctor went on, "is acting governor. He is not the hyena Bernard was. Hutchinson was born here. He is a gentleman, but loves office. I would not do him any injustice, but being in office he naturally sides with the ministry. He does not see which way the people are going. King George believes that he himself is chosen of God to rule us, and Lord North is ready to back him up. The people around the king are sycophants who are looking after their own personal advantage. The ministers know very little about affairs in the Colonies. They are misled by Bernard and others. They are determined to raise revenue from the Colonies, but will be disappointed. But we will go round to the Green Dragon."

They reached the tavern. Doctor Warren nodded to the landlord, and led the way up the stairs along the hall and gave four raps on a door. One of the panels swung open. A man on the other side said something which Robert could not understand, neither could he make out what the doctor said in reply. The panel closed, the door opened, and they passed into a large room dimly lighted by two tallow candles. A dozen or more young men were seated in chairs around a table smoking their pipes. At one end of the table was a large punch-bowl, a basket filled with lemons, a bottle of rum, a plate of crackers, and half a cheese. One young man was slicing lemons and making rum punch. All clapped their hands when they saw Doctor Warren.

"I have brought a young friend; he is from New Hampshire and as true as steel," said the doctor.

"Boys," said Amos Lincoln, "this is the gentleman I was telling you about; let's give him three cheers."

The room rang. Robert did not know what to make of it; neither did Doctor Warren till Amos Lincoln told how he had seen Mr. Walden at the town pump, knocking down one lobster, throwing another into the watering-trough, and calmly confronting the prig of a lieutenant. When Amos finished, all came and shook hands with Robert.

Mr. John Rowe called the meeting to order.

"Since our last meeting," he said, "a ship has arrived bringing the news that the king and ministers are determined to levy an export duty of three pence per pound on tea: that is, all tea exported from England will be taxed to that extent. Of course, we could pay it if we chose, but we shall not so choose."

The company clapped their hands.

"We have sent round papers for the merchants to sign an agreement that they will not sell any tea imported from England. All have signed it except Hutchinson's two sons, Governor Bernard's son-in-law, Theophilus Lillie, and two others. The agreement does not prevent the merchants from selling tea imported from Holland. The Tories, of course, will patronize the merchants who have not signed the agreement, and the question for us to consider is how we shall keep out the tea to be imported by the East India Company."

"We must make it hot for 'em," said Mr. Mackintosh.

"The tea, do you mean?" shouted several.

There was a ripple of laughter.

"I don't see but that we shall have to quit drinking tea," said Doctor Warren. "We drink altogether too much. It has become a dissipation. We drink it morning, noon, and night. Some of the old ladies of my acquaintance keep the teapot on the coals pretty much all the time. Our wives meet in the afternoon to sip tea and talk gossip. The girls getting ready to be married invite their mates to quiltings and serve them with Old Hyson. We have garden tea-parties on bright afternoons in summer and evening parties in winter. So much tea, such frequent use of an infusion of the herb, upsets our nerves, impairs healthful digestion, and brings on sleeplessness. I have several patients--old ladies, and those in middle life--whose nerves are so unstrung that I am obliged to dose them with opium occasionally, to enable them to sleep."

"Do you think we can induce the ladies to quit drinking it?" Mr. Molineux asked.

"I am quite sure Mrs. Warren will cheerfully give it up, as will Mrs. Molineux if her husband should set the example," Doctor Warren replied.

Mr. Molineux said he was ready to banish the teapot from his table.

"I believe," continued the doctor, "that the women of America will be ready to give up the gratification of their appetites to maintain a great principle. They will sacrifice all personal considerations to secure the rights of the Colonies. Parliament proposes to tax this country without our having a voice in the matter. It is a seductive and insidious proposition--this export duty. I suppose they think we are simpletons, and will be caught in the trap they are setting. They think we are so fond of tea we shall continue to purchase it, but the time has come when we must let them know there is nothing so precious to us as our rights and liberties; that we can be resolute in little as well as in great things. I dare say that some of you, like myself, have invitations to Mrs. Newville's garden party to-morrow afternoon. I expect to attend, but it will be the last tea-party for me, if the bill before Parliament becomes a law. Mrs. Newville is an estimable lady, a hospitable hostess; having accepted an invitation to be present, it would be discourteous for me to inform her I could not drink a cup of tea from her hand, but I have made up my mind henceforth to stand resolutely for maintaining the principle underlying it all,--a great fundamental, political principle,--our freedom."

The room rang with applause.

"Sometimes, as some of you know, I try my hand at verse-making. I will read a few lines."

FREE AMERICA.

That seat of Science, Athens, And earth's proud mistress, Rome: Where now are all their glories? We scarce can find their tomb. Then guard your rights, Americans, Nor stoop to lawless sway; Oppose, oppose, oppose, For North America.

We led fair Freedom hither, And lo, the desert smiled, A paradise of pleasure Was opened in the wild. Your harvest, bold Americans, No power shall snatch away. Huzza, huzza, huzza, For free America.