"He also conjured the writer, if he had any regard for his country, concern for himself or posterity, or respect for him, to banish these thoughts from his mind, and never communicate a sentiment of such a nature from himself or any one else."
"Did they give it up then, Papa?" Gracie asked.
"Nothing more was ever said about making Washington king," he answered; "but the next December they sent to Congress a memorial on the subject of their pay. A resolution was adopted by that body, but such as did not satisfy the complainants. Then a meeting of officers was arranged for; and anonymous addresses, commonly known as the Newburg addresses, were sent out to rouse the army to resentment.
"Washington insisted on attending the meeting, and delivered an impressive address.
"He had written down what he wished to say, and after reading the first paragraph paused to put on his spectacles, saying most touchingly, as he did so, that he had grown gray in the service of his country, and now found himself growing blind.
"He then went on to read a most noble paper which he had prepared for the occasion. In it he acknowledged the just claims of the army against the Government, and assured them that they would not be disregarded; then he entreated them 'to express their utmost horror and detestation of the man who wishes, under any specious pretences, to overturn the liberties of our country, and who wickedly attempts to open the floodgates of civil discord and deluge our rising empire in blood.'
"Then, having finished his address, he retired from the meeting; but resolutions were at once offered by General Knox, seconded by General Putnam and adopted by the meeting, agreeing with all he had said and reciprocating his expressions of esteem and affection. They were relieved of their doubts and fears and restored to their wonted love for their country."
"Oh, that was nice, Papa!" exclaimed Gracie, her cheeks flushing and her eyes shining. "How good and great our Washington was! It seems to me we would never have got free from Great Britain if we hadn't had him to help."
"Yes: it does seem very doubtful," her father replied. "As Grandma Elsie has said, God seems to have raised up and prepared him for that very work."
"And how soon after that was the war really over, Papa?"
"The treaty of peace was signed in Paris on the 20th of January, 1783, as I remarked a moment since; but as it took a long while in those days for people and news to cross the ocean, it was not till the 17th of the following April that Washington received the proclamation of Congress for the cessation of hostilities. Then on the 19th – which, as you may remember, was the eighth anniversary of the battle of Lexington, the opening conflict of the war – the cessation was proclaimed at the head of every regiment."
"What joyful news it must have been to the poor, weary soldiers!" said Violet. "I trust their hearts were full of gratitude to God, who had prospered the right in spite of the fearful odds against those who were battling for it."
"Yes," returned her husband; "and no heart could have been more thankful than that of the commander-in-chief, who said in the general orders, 'The chaplains of the several brigades will render thanks to Almighty God for all His mercies, particularly for His overruling the wrath of man to His own glory, and causing the rage of war to cease among the nations.'"
"What a good, good Christian man Washington was, Papa!" exclaimed Gracie.
"And yet he had enemies; and there are still some among his own countrymen who are far from appreciating him, – can even speak evil of him. But even our Lord Jesus Christ had enemies and detractors – bitter and implacable foes – among his own countrymen; and 'the servant is not greater than his Lord,'" was the Captain's reply.
"Yes, Papa, I remember that Washington had enemies, – Gates for one, and that infamous Conway for another," said Max. "How glad I was to read of the Continental Congress accepting the resignation he offered in a fit of anger, so that he had to leave the army for good, though he didn't want to!"
"I think it was for good, Max," remarked Mr. Keith, with a slightly amused smile, – "for the good of the country, though perhaps not for his own. Conway was a man America was well rid of; and the same may be as truly said of Charles Lee. What would have become of our liberties had that infamous cabal succeeded in getting the command taken from Washington and given to any one of themselves!"
CHAPTER X
Evelyn Leland was the only one of the party on the "Dolphin" who had never seen Boston; but to all the young people entering the city from the sea was a new experience, and as the vessel neared the harbour they gazed about them with great interest, while the Captain pointed out and named the forts and the islands as they came into view.
"Yonder is Boston Light," he said, "two miles east of Fort Warren, – on George's Island, which I will point out presently; it is a revolving light, ninety-two feet above the level of the sea. And yonder is Spit or Bug Light; it is only thirty-five feet high, and stands upon iron pillars fixed in the rock. They show a red fixed light there which can be seen at the distance of seven miles.
"Then there is Long Island Light, named from the island on which it stands. The tower is only twenty-two feet above the ground, but eighty feet above the sea.
"Yonder," again pointing with his finger, "is Fort Independence (called in Revolutionary times Castle William) just at the entrance of the main channel; and opposite it is Fort Winthrop. And yonder is George's Island with its fortification, – Fort Warren."
"And this was the harbour where the Boston Tea-party was held!" remarked Evelyn, in a half-musing tone. "What an exciting time that must have been! I think it was grand in the people to give up the tea they so enjoyed drinking, rather than submit to 'taxation without representation.'"
"Which all women possessed of landed property do to this day," returned Rosie, mischievously.
Eva laughed. "Oh, well," she said, "you know American women can influence the voters to whom they are related, – their brothers, husbands, and sons."
"If they have any, and they happen to be particularly tractable," laughed Rosie. "But how about poor fatherless and brotherless single women? The men may vote as heavy taxes upon their property as they please, while they can't lift a finger to prevent it, or say a word as to what is to be done with the money taken from their purses without their consent."
"Why, Rosie, are you turning into a woman's rights woman?" queried Max, laughing.
"I don't know, Maxie; those ideas just happened to suggest themselves," she answered. "I'll take time to think it all out one of these days, though; and I'll not promise not to turn into an advocate of women's right to have some say about the taxing of their own property. I see no reason why a man's rights in that direction should be considered superior to a woman's."
"No; nor I either," Max said. "And I'm as willing as possible that American women should have all their rights; but I shouldn't like to let ignorant women – foreign or coloured ones – vote."
"Yes, that's the trouble," laughed Rosie; "I shouldn't like that either. But I can't see that it's any better to let foreign men who are too ignorant to understand much or anything about our institutions, have a vote. I must say it strikes me as exceedingly insulting to educated, intelligent ladies, who are native Americans, to refuse a vote to them, and at the same time give it to such foreign-born men, or to male natives who know nothing, can't read or write, and have no property at all."
"Coloured men, for instance?" queried Max.
"Yes, coloured or white; it's the education I'm concerned about, not the colour. Mamma, do not you agree with me?"
"Yes, I do," Mrs. Travilla answered. "I have no desire to vote myself; but I think only native-born citizens, or those who have been twenty-one years in the country, should have a vote, and not even they unless able to read and write, capable of understanding our form of government, and possessed of some little property, – that last in order that they may appreciate more fully the burdens of taxation, and be less ready to make them heavier than need be."
"Papa," asked Gracie, "where abouts were the tea ships when the folks went on board and threw the tea into the water?"
"They were moored at Griffin's Wharf," he replied; "I can point it out to you directly."
"What is it, Papa, Gracie's talking about? A story?" queried little Elsie. "Please, Papa, tell it to us."
"I'm afraid you would hardly understand, Papa's darling," the Captain said, stroking the soft, shining, golden curls as he spoke, and smiling down into the bright, eager little face.
"I think I should, Papa. Wasn't it something 'bout a tea-party?" she asked coaxingly.
"Yes, Papa, please do tell the story; we'd all like to hear it over again now when we're just at the place where it happened," added Gracie.
"Well, my darlings, to please you," he said; "also because I want you to be thoroughly grounded in the history of your own country.
"You must remember that these States, – or rather the original thirteen, there were only so many at that time, – were then called colonies, and were ruled by England. The English Government claimed the right to tax the colonies just as they pleased. That right the people of the colonies denied.
"They were not allowed to send any members to Parliament to help decide who in America should be taxed and how much; so they determined that rather than pay a tax put upon the article without their knowledge and consent, they would do without tea.
"Then the English Government tried to force it on them; and these ships came into their harbour loaded with the tea, which they intended to land.
"One of those tea-laden ships, called the 'Dartmouth,' – Captain Hall in command, – came to anchor yonder, near the Castle, as it was then called. It was on Sunday the 'Dartmouth' came in; and as you may suppose, the sight of her caused a great excitement in Boston.
"Early on Monday morning a placard was posted all over the town. I committed it to memory when a school-boy. It said: —
"'Friends! Brethren! Countrymen! That worst of plagues, the detested tea shipped for this port by the East India Company, is now arrived in the harbor; the Hour of Destruction, or manly opposition to the Machinations of Tyranny, stares you in the face; every Friend to his Country, to himself, and to Posterity, is now called upon to meet at Faneuil Hall, at nine o'clock This Day (at which time the bells will ring), to make united and successful resistance to this last, worst, and most destructive measure of administration.'
"That was the handbill; its date was November 29, 1773."
"Was that the 'vite to the tea-party?" asked little Elsie.
"Not to what proved to be the principal one," he answered.
"In response to the call they met that day at Faneuil Hall, but the excitement was so great and brought so many people together that they adjourned to the Old South Meeting-house which was larger.
"At that meeting it was resolved that the tea should not be landed, that no duty should be paid on it, and that it should be sent back in the same vessel it had come in; also they notified the owner and the commander of the vessel that to land and enter the tea was at their own peril, ordered the ship to be moored at Griffin's Wharf, and appointed a guard of twenty-five men to watch her.
"At the meeting a letter was received from the consignees offering to store the tea till they could hear from England; but the people were determined not to allow it to be landed, so rejected the offer with scorn.
"Then the sheriff read a proclamation from the governor ordering them to disperse; but it was received with hisses, and they went on with the business that had called them together.
"They passed a resolution ordering the vessels of Captains Coffin and Bruce, which were hourly expected to arrive with their loads of tea, to be moored at Griffin's Wharf."
"Did they come, Papa? and did the men watch all the ships that had tea?" asked Elsie, who was listening with a look of interest and intelligence that seemed to say she understood a great deal, if not all her father had been saying.
"Yes; and about two weeks afterward another meeting was held in the Old South Church, when it was resolved that Mr. Roch must immediately apply for a clearance for his ship and send her out to sea again. But the governor had already taken measures to prevent him from doing that, ordering Admiral Montague to fit out two armed vessels and station them at the entrance to the harbour, and Colonel Leslie, who was in command of the Castle, not to allow any vessel to pass out under the guns of the fortress, unless she could show a permission signed by himself."
"I should think," remarked Max, "that Mr. Roch and Captain Hall must have been quite puzzled to know how to act to suit all parties."
"What happened next, Papa?" asked Gracie.
"Two days later there was another meeting in the Old South, – the largest meeting that had then ever been known in Boston; for the people were greatly excited.
"Several persons made addresses, but Josiah Quincy was the principal speaker. He advised the people to weigh and consider before they took measures that would bring on a trying and terrible struggle such as had never been seen in this country."
"Why, Papa," exclaimed Lulu, "I thought Mr. Quincy was one of the patriots!"
"So he was, my child; but he wanted the people to look before they leaped.
"When he had finished his speech the question was put, 'Will you abide by your former resolutions with respect to not suffering the tea to be landed?'"
"And what did they say?" asked Gracie.
"That they would; the whole vast assembly speaking as with one voice."
"I hope Mr. Roch was there to hear them," said Lulu.
"No," said her father. "The governor was at his country-house, a few miles out of Boston, and Mr. Roch had been sent to him to ask a permit for his vessel to leave the harbour.
"He returned late in the afternoon, before the meeting at the Old South had broken up, and reported to them that the governor refused a permit until a clearance should be shown him; and the collector refused that until the tea should be landed."
"What a fuss about nothing!" exclaimed little Elsie, with a look of disgust.
"Oh, no," her father said, stroking her hair as she leaned upon his knee; "some day when my little girl is older and wiser, she will understand that it was very far from being about nothing.
"The people were very much excited. It was beginning to grow dark in the old church and somebody called for candles; but just then somebody in the gallery showed himself disguised like a Mohawk Indian, raised the Indian war-whoop, and was answered in the same fashion by some one outside the building, – for the throng a good deal more than filled the church; then another voice in the gallery shouted, 'Boston harbour a teapot to-night! Hurrah for Griffin's Wharf!'
"At that there was an instant motion to adjourn, and the people crowded into the streets.
"It was a clear, moonlight evening, still quite early, and the British squadron not more than a mile away; British troops were near too, but neither interfered with what was going on.
"It is probable that everything had been arranged beforehand; and seeing several persons disguised as Indians going toward Griffin's Wharf, the people hurried thither. Some fifteen or twenty were so disguised, but about sixty boarded the vessels in the first place; and it is said that as many as a hundred and forty were engaged in the work before it was finished.
"A man named Lendall Pitts acted as leader; and under his direction the 'Dartmouth' was boarded first, the hatches were taken up, and her cargo of one hundred and fourteen chests of tea brought on deck, where the boxes were broken open and the tea was thrown into the water.
"Then the other two vessels were boarded and their cargoes of tea also thrown into the harbour."
"And that's what is called the 'Boston Tea Party,'" remarked Max with satisfaction. "I'd wish I'd been there to help, only that I'd rather be here now."
"That's just the way I feel about it," said Walter.
"You may be thankful, my dear boys, that you live in these days," remarked Grandma Elsie, smiling kindly upon them. "War times are more interesting to tell about, but far harder to live in. Our hearts may well be filled with thankfulness to God for the success of our fathers in securing the blessings of liberty for not themselves only, but for us also. We assuredly have more to be thankful for than any other nation, and ought therefore to be better and more earnest Christians, doing all we possibly can to spread abroad through all the earth the glad news of salvation by Christ, and to help the down-trodden and oppressed to share with us the inestimable blessings of freedom, – life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, as our Declaration of Independence has it."
But the "Dolphin" was fast approaching the city, and there was so much to look at and talk about, relating to the present, that for a time the past was well-nigh forgotten, except when the Captain pointed out as nearly as he could, the precise spot where the never-to-be-forgotten "tea party" had been held.
When he had done so, Max broke out into a song to the tune of "Yankee Doodle," the other young folks joining in with a will on the chorus.
"Once on a time old Johnny Bull flew in a raging fury,
And swore that Jonathan should have no trial, sir, by jury;
That no elections should be held across the briny waters;
And now said he, 'I'll tax the Tea of all his sons and daughters.'
Then down he sate in burly state, and blustered like a grandee,
And in derision made a tune called 'Yankee Doodle Dandy.'
Yankee doodle, – these are facts, – Yankee doodle dandy!
My son of wax, your tea I'll tax; you – Yankee doodle dandy!
"John sent the tea from o'er the sea, with heavy duties rated;
But whether hyson or bohea I never heard it stated.
Then Jonathan to pout began, – he laid a strong embargo, —
'I'll drink no Tea by Jove!' so he threw overboard the cargo.
Then Johnny sent a regiment, big words and looks to bandy,
Whose martial band, when near the land played 'Yankee Doodle Dandy.'
Yankee doodle, – keep it up, – Yankee doodle dandy!
I'll poison with a tax your cup; you– Yankee doodle dandy!
"A long war then they had, in which John was at last defeated;
And 'Yankee Doodle' was the march to which his troops retreated.
Cute Jonathan, to see them fly, could not restrain his laughter;
'That time,' said he, 'suits to a T. I'll sing it ever after.'
Old Johnny's face, to his disgrace, was flushed with beer and brandy,
E'en while he swore to sing no more this 'Yankee Doodle Dandy.'
Yankee doodle, – ho, ha, he, – Yankee doodle dandy!
We kept the tune, but not the tea; Yankee doodle dandy!
"I've told you now the origin of this most lively ditty,
Which Johnny Bull dislikes as 'dull and stupid' – what a pity!
With 'Hail Columbia' it is sung, in chorus full and hearty.
On land and main we breathe the strain John made for his 'tea party;'
No matter how we rhyme the words, the music speaks them handy,
And where's the fair can't sing the air of 'Yankee Doodle Dandy'?
Yankee doodle, firm and true, – Yankee doodle dandy!
Yankee doodle, doodle do, Yankee doodle dandy!"
CHAPTER XI
A few days were spent in Boston, principally in visiting places of historical interest, – Christ Church on Salem Street, where as the Captain told the children, Paul Revere's signal was hung out from the steeple, in the Revolutionary War, by Captain Pulling, a Boston merchant; and the Old South Church, about which they had already heard so much.
"In 1775," the Captain said, as the little group stood gazing about it in deep interest, "the British soldiers desecrated this place by using it for cavalry drill, having first torn out the galleries and covered the floor with earth. It is now no longer used as a church, but, as you see, is a historical museum. Now we will go to Faneuil Hall, – 'the cradle of liberty.'"
They did so; and next visited the Old State House.
As the Captain told them, the Boston Massacre occurred in the street before it; and there, during the excitement in regard to the Stamp Act, the stamped clearances were burned by the mob. From the balcony the Declaration of Independence was read. Many town-meetings were held there, and many patriotic speeches made, – among them those of Otis, who foretold probable war, and urged resistance to tyranny "even unto blood" if necessary.
"Who was Otis, Papa?" asked Lulu.
"A Boston lawyer of that time, a patriot, – as evidenced by even the few words of his I have just quoted. He was advocate-general with a good salary at the time when the revenue officers in Boston took out search-warrants to look for smuggled goods, and called upon him to defend their cause; but he at once resigned his office and took the other side, – that of the merchants of Boston, who were protesting against the writs. They offered him a large fee, but he refused it, saying, 'In such a cause I despise all fees.'"
"That case was tried in this old State House; and Otis made a grand speech of such length that it took him five hours to deliver it."
"What was it all about, Papa?" asked Gracie.
"It was on the question whether Americans were bound to obey laws which they had no share in making, and all the arguments in the wonderful speech answered doggedly, 'No.'
"John Adams, who heard the speech, afterward said that on that day 'the child Independence was born;' and no doubt the argument assisted the popular leaders very much in furnishing them with weapons for their work."
"Weapons, Papa?" Grace asked with a puzzled look.
"Yes, daughter; arguments with which to show the people what the English Government was doing to take away our liberties.
"Otis afterward, when Governor Bernard called upon the General Assembly of Massachusetts to rescind the resolution it had passed against the right of the English Parliament to tax the colonies without their consent, – which they boldly disregarded, – made a powerful speech in which he said, 'When Lord Hillsborough knows that we will not rescind our acts, he should apply to Parliament to rescind theirs. Let Britons rescind their measures, or they are lost forever!' He went on speaking in that way for nearly an hour, till even the Sons of Liberty began to tremble lest he should go too far, and be charged with treason."
"And did he fight for the country, Papa?" asked Gracie.
"No, poor fellow!" replied the Captain, with a slight sigh; "before the war had fairly begun he became insane from injuries inflicted by one Robinson, a commissioner of customs, who, with several army or navy officers set upon, beat, and otherwise injured him, inflicting a sword-cut on his head from which he never recovered."
"And he didn't have the pleasure of seeing his country free and separated from England?" Lulu said, half inquiringly.
"No; he was killed by a stroke of lightning in 1778, which you will remember was several years before the war was over."
Our little party next visited Lexington and Concord.
"How far must we travel to get there, Papa?" queried Gracie, as they took their seats in the car.
"Only a few miles to Lexington, and a little farther to reach Concord," he answered.
"That won't seem very far by rail," remarked Max; "but it must have seemed quite a distance to the soldiers who marched there in Revolutionary times."
"I find we are early," the Captain said, looking at his watch; "and as we have the car nearly to ourselves, it may be well for us to talk over what occurred in 1775 at the places we are about to visit. I think it will make the visit more interesting to you."
"Oh, do tell us the whole story, Papa," requested Gracie, with a look of pleased anticipation.
The others all joined in her petition, and the Captain good-naturedly complied.
"Matters had been growing worse and worse between the British Government and the colonies," he said, "till a struggle seemed almost inevitable. General Gage discovered that the patriots were privately conveying arms out of Boston, that some brass cannon and field-pieces were at Salem; and on a Sunday in February, 1775, he sent some troops to seize them.
"An express from Marblehead arrived at Salem while the people were in church, with the news that British troops were landing from a transport at that place, and were about to march to Salem.
"The congregations were at once dismissed, and, led by Colonel Pickering, stopped the British at a drawbridge. Pickering succeeded in effecting a compromise, and the troops marched back again to Marblehead without having done the errand upon which they had been sent.
"Let me see," continued the Captain, meditatively; "I think I can recall some lines by Trumbull, referring to that incident: —
"'Through Salem straight, without delay,
The bold battalion took its way:
Marched o'er a bridge, in open sight
Of several Yankees arm'd for fight;
Then, without loss of time or men,
Veer'd round for Boston back again,
And found so well their prospects thrive,
That every soul got back alive.'
"It was some two months after this that the battles of Lexington and Concord took place. On April 18, the patriots learned that the next day British troops were to visit Concord for the purpose of destroying some military stores there, and passing through Lexington seize the persons of John Hancock and Samuel Adams, who were both in that town at the house of the Rev. Jonas Clark.
"Gage had tried to keep all this a profound secret, but somehow the patriots had learned what he was attempting, and were making their preparations accordingly. Warren and his friends had gone, Paul Revere and William Dawes had just rowed across the river to Charlestown, taking a message from Warren to Adams and Hancock. They were very near being captured by the guard at Charlestown, but escaped, and reached Lexington a little after midnight.
"They went at once to Mr. Clark's house, but found a guard of eight minute-men placed about it to protect Adams and Hancock.
"These refused to let Revere and Dawes into the house, as orders had been given not to allow the inmates to be disturbed by noise.
"'Noise!' exclaimed Revere, 'you'll have noise enough before long; the regulars are coming!'
"They were quickly admitted then, roused Hancock and Adams, and knowing how unlikely to escape being taken prisoners they were, should they remain in Lexington, persuaded them to retire to Woburn.
"Then Revere and Dawes pushed on to Concord to give the alarm there.
"By two o'clock in the morning a hundred and thirty of the Lexington militia were collected at the meeting-house upon the green. The roll was called; then, as the early morning air was very chilly, they were dismissed with orders to remain within drum-beat."
"Papa, the British marched very quietly, didn't they?" asked Max.
"Yes, in perfect silence; hoping and believing that none of the Americans were aware of their movements."
"Ha, ha, how mistaken they were!" laughed Max.
"Yes," his father said, "there were vigilant eyes upon them. As they passed through West Cambridge they were seen by Lee, Gerry, and Orne, – members of the Provincial Congress, – and as I have told you, others learned the secret also.
"As the British neared Lexington their ears were greeted by the sound of bells and guns, warning them that their expedition was known."
"I s'pose they didn't like that," observed Gracie, "but what did they do about it, Papa?"
"Colonel Smith dispatched six companies of troops under Major Pitcairn, with orders to press on to Concord and secure the two bridges. He also sent a messenger to Boston for reinforcements.
"Pitcairn hastened on toward Lexington, capturing several persons on his way. One of them – a man named Bowman – escaped, hurried into Lexington on horseback, and notified Captain Parker, commander of the minute-men, that the enemy was approaching."
"And did they make a great fuss and wake up all the people, Papa?" asked Gracie.
"They rang the bells, fired guns, and beat the drum, so that doubtless everybody was soon aroused.
"It was between four and five in the morning. About one hundred of the militia were quickly collected on the green; but being raw troops, and uncertain how large a force was coming against them, they were in some confusion.
"And indeed it was an overwhelming force they presently saw marching toward them, their scarlet uniforms gleaming out through the early morning mist.
"The British halted within a few rods of the meeting-house and loaded their pieces. But the Americans stood firm and undismayed.
"Their orders were not to pull a trigger till fired upon by the enemy, and for a moment there was silence and hesitation on both sides; neither Americans nor British seemed willing to become the aggressors.
"But it was only for a moment; Pitcairn and other officers galloped forward, waving their swords over their heads, and followed by their troops in double-quick time.
"'Disperse you villains!' they shouted, 'lay down your arms and disperse. Why don't you disperse, you rebels? Disperse!' And as the patriots did not instantly obey the command, Pitcairn wheeled his horse, waved his sword, and gave orders to press forward and surround the militia.
"At that instant some random shots were fired by the British, and promptly returned by the Americans."
"Oh, Papa, was anybody killed?" asked Gracie.
"Not by those shots," replied her father; "but the next minute Pitcairn drew a pistol and discharged it, at the same time shouting 'Fire!'
"His troops instantly obeyed that order. Four of the patriots were killed, and the rest dispersed. They were fired upon again while retreating, and several of them halted and returned the shots, then concealed themselves behind buildings and stone walls.
"Eight Americans were killed, three British soldiers and Major Pitcairn's horse were wounded."