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} + .x-ebookmaker .ol_1 li {padding-left: 1em; text-indent: 0em; } + body {font-family: Georgia, serif; text-align: justify; } + table {font-size: .9em; padding: 1.5em .5em 1em; page-break-inside: avoid; + clear: both; } + div.titlepage {text-align: center; page-break-before: always; + page-break-after: always; color:red; } + div.titlepage p {text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; + line-height: 1.5; margin-top: 3em; } + .ph1 { text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; font-size: xx-large; + margin: .67em auto; page-break-before: always; } + .ph2 { text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; font-size: x-large; margin: .75em auto; + page-break-before: always; } + .x-ebookmaker p.dropcap:first-letter { float: left; } + </style> + </head> + <body> +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.1em; font-weight:bold; margin-bottom:1em;'> +The Project Gutenberg EBook of In colonial days, by Nathaniel Hawthorne +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> + +<div style='display:table;margin-bottom:1em;'> + <div style='display:table-row;'> + <div style='display:table-cell;padding-right:0.5em;'>Title:</div> + <div style='display:table-cell;'>In colonial days</div> + </div> +</div> + <div style='display:table-row;'> + <div style='display:table-cell;padding-right:0.5em;'>Author: </div> + <div style='display:table-cell;'>Nathaniel Hawthorne</div> + </div> + +<div style='height:10px'></div> + +<div style='margin-bottom:1em;'> +Release Date: Mar 28, 2021 [eBook #64944] +</div> + +<div style='margin-bottom:1em;'> +Language: English +</div> + +<div style='display:table;margin-bottom:1em;'> + <div style='display:table-row;'> + <div style='display:table-cell;vertical-align:top;'>Produced by: </div> + <div style='display:table-cell;'>Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)</div> + </div> +</div> + +<div style='margin-top:1em;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG BOOK OF IN COLONIAL DAYS ***</div> + + +<div class='tnotes covernote'> + +<p class='c000'><strong>Transcriber’s Note:</strong></p> + +<p class='c000'>The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.</p> + +</div> + +<div class='chapter ph1'> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c001'> + <div>IN COLONIAL DAYS</div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +<div id='Frontispiece' class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_frontispiece.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> +<div class='ic001'> +<p><span class='color_red'>“Several Personages descending towards the Door”</span></p> +</div> +</div> + +<div class='titlepage'> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_title.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> +</div> + +<div> + <h1 class='c002'><i><span class='xlarge'>In</span><br /> Colonial<br /> Days</i></h1> +</div> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c003'> + <div><i>By</i></div> + <div class='c004'><span class='large'><i>NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE</i></span></div> + <div class='c003'><i>L. C. PAGE & COMPANY</i></div> + <div class='c004'><i>Boston</i></div> + <div class='c004'><i>PUBLISHERS</i></div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='figcenter id002'> +<span class='pageno' id='Page_iv'>iv</span> +<img src='images/i_copyright.jpg' alt='Copyright, 1896, by JOSEPH KNIGHT COMPANY Copyright, 1906, by L. C. PAGE & COMPANY (Incorporated)' class='ig001' /> +</div> + +<div class='lg-container-r c001'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>Third Impression, March, 1911</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='pbb'> + <hr class='pb c004' /> +</div> +<div class='figcenter id002'> +<img src='images/i_list_of_illustrations.jpg' alt='List of Illustrations by Frank T. Merrill.' class='ig001' /> +</div> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_vi'>vi</span> + <h2 class='c005'>ILLUSTRATIONS.</h2> +</div> + +<table class='table0' summary='ILLUSTRATIONS'> + <tr> + <th class='c006'></th> + <th class='c007'><span class='small'>PAGE</span></th> + </tr> + <tr><td> </td></tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'>“Several Personages descending towards the Door” (<i>color plate</i>)</td> + <td class='c007'><i><a href='#Frontispiece'>Frontispiece</a></i></td> + </tr> + <tr><td> </td></tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>Copyright</span></td> + <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_iv'>iv</a></td> + </tr> + <tr><td> </td></tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>Lady Reading</span></td> + <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_viii'>viii</a></td> + </tr> + <tr><td> </td></tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>Howe’s Masquerade</span> (<i>Half-title</i>)</td> + <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_ix'>ix</a></td> + </tr> + <tr><td> </td></tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>Ye Old Province House</span></td> + <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_x'>x</a></td> + </tr> + <tr><td> </td></tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>Initial</span></td> + <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_1'>1</a></td> + </tr> + <tr><td> </td></tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>The Indian</span></td> + <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_2'>2</a></td> + </tr> + <tr><td> </td></tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'>“<span class='sc'>The Story of Each Blue Tile</span>”</td> + <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_3'>3</a></td> + </tr> + <tr><td> </td></tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'>“<span class='sc'>Gage may have beheld his Disastrous Victory</span>”</td> + <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_5'>5</a></td> + </tr> + <tr><td> </td></tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>The Elderly Gentleman</span></td> + <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_6'>6</a></td> + </tr> + <tr><td> </td></tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>The Balcony</span></td> + <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_7'>7</a></td> + </tr> + <tr><td> </td></tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'>“<span class='sc'>One of these Worthies—A Tall, Lank Figure</span>”</td> + <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_10'>10</a></td> + </tr> + <tr><td> </td></tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>Colonel Joliffe and Granddaughter</span></td> + <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_12'>12</a></td> + </tr> + <tr><td> </td></tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'>“<span class='sc'>Please your Honor, the Fault is none of mine</span>”</td> + <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_15'>15</a></td> + </tr> + <tr><td> </td></tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'>“<span class='sc'>A Stout Man, dressed in Rich and Courtly Attire</span>”</td> + <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_18'>18</a></td> + </tr> + <tr><td> </td></tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'>“<span class='sc'>The Shape of Gage, as True as in a Looking-glass</span>”</td> + <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_22'>22</a></td> + </tr> + <tr><td> </td></tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'>“<span class='sc'>A Tall Man, booted and wrapped in a Military Cloak</span>”</td> + <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_23'>23</a></td> + </tr> + <tr><td> </td></tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'>“<span class='sc'>He recoiled Several Steps from the Figure</span>” (<i>color plate</i>)</td> + <td class='c007'><i>facing</i> <a href='#Page_24'>24</a></td> + </tr> + <tr><td> </td></tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'>“<span class='sc'>A Stage Driver sat at one of the Windows reading a Penny Paper</span>”</td> + <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_27'>27</a></td> + </tr> + <tr><td> </td></tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>Edward Randolph’s Portrait</span> (<i>Half-title</i>)</td> + <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_29'>29</a></td> + </tr> + <tr><td> </td></tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>Ye Young Captaine of ye Castle tells ye Story of ye Picture</span></td> + <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_35'>35</a></td> + </tr> + <tr><td> </td></tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'>“<span class='sc'>Some of these Fables are really Awful</span>” (<i>color plate</i>)</td> + <td class='c007'><i>facing</i> <a href='#Page_38'>38</a></td> + </tr> + <tr><td> </td></tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>Alice beckoned to the Picture</span></td> + <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_41'>41</a></td> + </tr> + <tr><td> </td></tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'><span class='pageno' id='Page_vii'>vii</span>“<span class='sc'>The Chairman of the Selectmen was addressing to the Lieutenant-Governor a Long and Solemn Protest</span>” (<i>color plate</i>)</td> + <td class='c007'><i>facing</i> <a href='#Page_42'>42</a></td> + </tr> + <tr><td> </td></tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'>“<span class='sc'>She snatched away the Sable Curtain</span>”</td> + <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_45'>45</a></td> + </tr> + <tr><td> </td></tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'>“<i>Choking with the Blood of the Boston Massacre</i>”</td> + <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_47'>47</a></td> + </tr> + <tr><td> </td></tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'><i>Lady Eleanore’s Mantle</i> (<i>Half-title</i>)</td> + <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_51'>51</a></td> + </tr> + <tr><td> </td></tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>Ye Beauteous Lady Eleanore cometh to Boston</span></td> + <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_57'>57</a></td> + </tr> + <tr><td> </td></tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'>“<span class='sc'>A Pale Young Man ... prostrated himself beside the Coach</span>” (<i>color plate</i>)</td> + <td class='c007'><i>facing</i> <a href='#Page_59'>59</a></td> + </tr> + <tr><td> </td></tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>Governor Shute descended the Flight of Steps</span></td> + <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_60'>60</a></td> + </tr> + <tr><td> </td></tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>A Gathering of Rank, Wealth, and Beauty</span></td> + <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_63'>63</a></td> + </tr> + <tr><td> </td></tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'>“<span class='sc'>I pray you take one Sip of This Holy Wine</span>”</td> + <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_67'>67</a></td> + </tr> + <tr><td> </td></tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'>“<span class='sc'>Keep my Image in your Remembrance</span>”</td> + <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_71'>71</a></td> + </tr> + <tr><td> </td></tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'>“<span class='sc'>The Communication could be of no Agreeable Import</span>”</td> + <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_73'>73</a></td> + </tr> + <tr><td> </td></tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'>“<span class='sc'>Young Man, what is your Purpose?</span>”</td> + <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_77'>77</a></td> + </tr> + <tr><td> </td></tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'>“<span class='sc'>What Thing art Thou?</span>”</td> + <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_80'>80</a></td> + </tr> + <tr><td> </td></tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'>“<span class='sc'>That Night a Procession passed by Torchlight</span>” (<i>color plate</i>)</td> + <td class='c007'><i>facing</i> <a href='#Page_81'>81</a></td> + </tr> + <tr><td> </td></tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>Old Esther Dudley</span> (<i>Half-title</i>)</td> + <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_83'>83</a></td> + </tr> + <tr><td> </td></tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'>“<span class='sc'>Heaven’s Cause and the King’s are One</span>”</td> + <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_89'>89</a></td> + </tr> + <tr><td> </td></tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'>“<span class='sc'>Take This Key and keep it safe</span>”</td> + <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_92'>92</a></td> + </tr> + <tr><td> </td></tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'>“<span class='sc'>A Few of the Stanch, though Crestfallen Old Tories</span>”</td> + <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_95'>95</a></td> + </tr> + <tr><td> </td></tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>The King of England’s Birthday</span></td> + <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_99'>99</a></td> + </tr> + <tr><td> </td></tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'>“<span class='sc'>Receive my Trust</span>” (<i>color plate</i>)</td> + <td class='c007'><i>facing</i> <a href='#Page_101'>101</a></td> + </tr> + <tr><td> </td></tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>Faithful unto Death</span></td> + <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_104'>104</a></td> + </tr> +</table> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<span class='pageno' id='Page_viii'>viii</span> +<img src='images/i_list_of_illustrations-1.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> +</div> + +<div class='figcenter id003'> +<span class='pageno' id='Page_ix'>ix</span> +<img src='images/i_howes_masqverade.jpg' alt='HOWE’S MASQUERADE.' class='ig001' /> +</div> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<span class='pageno' id='Page_x'>x</span> +<img src='images/i_ye_province_house.jpg' alt='Yͤ Province House.' class='ig001' /> +</div> + +<div class='chapter ph1'> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c001'> + <div>IN COLONIAL DAYS</div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +<div> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_1'>1</span> + <h2 class='c005'>I.<br /> HOWE’S MASQUERADE.</h2> +</div> + +<div class='figleft id004'> +<img src='images/i_001.jpg' alt='One' class='ig001' /> +</div> + +<p class='c008'>One afternoon, last summer, +while walking along Washington +Street, my eye was attracted by a signboard +protruding over a narrow archway +nearly opposite the Old South Church. +The sign represented the front of a +stately edifice, which was designated as +the “<span class='sc'>Old Province House</span>, kept by +Thomas Waite.” I was glad to be thus +reminded of a purpose, long entertained, +of visiting and rambling over the mansion +of the old royal governors of Massachusetts; +and entering the arched passage, +which penetrated through the middle of +a brick row of shops, a few steps transported +me from the busy heart of modern +Boston into a small and secluded +courtyard. One side of this space was occupied by the square +front of the Province House, three stories high, and surmounted +by a cupola, on the top of which a gilded Indian was discernible +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2'>2</span>with his bow bent and his arrow on the string, as if aiming at +the weathercock on the spire of the Old South. The figure +has kept this attitude for seventy years or more, ever since +good Deacon Drowne, a cunning carver of wood, first stationed +him on his long sentinel’s watch over the city.</p> + +<div class='figright id004'> +<img src='images/i_002.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> +</div> + +<p class='c009'>The Province House is constructed +of brick, which seems +recently to have been overlaid +with a coat of light-colored paint. +A flight of red freestone steps, +fenced in by a balustrade +of curiously wrought iron, +ascends from the courtyard +to the spacious porch, over +which is a balcony, with an iron +balustrade of similar pattern and +workmanship to that beneath. +These letters and figures—16 P.S. 79—are +wrought into the iron-work of the +balcony, and probably express the date +of the edifice, with the initials of its +founder’s name. A wide door with +double leaves admitted me into the +hall or entry, on the right of which +is the entrance to the bar-room.</p> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<span class='pageno' id='Page_3'>3</span> +<img src='images/i_003.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> +<div class='ic001'> +<p>“The story of each blue tile”</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class='c009'>It was in this apartment, I presume, that the ancient governors +held their levees, with vice-regal pomp, surrounded by the +military men, the councillors, the judges, and other officers of +the crown, while all the loyalty of the province thronged to do +them honor. But the room, in its present condition, cannot +boast even of faded magnificence. The panelled wainscot is +covered with dingy paint, and acquires a duskier hue from the +deep shadow into which the Province House is thrown by the +brick block that shuts it in from Washington Street. A ray of +sunshine never visits this apartment any more than the glare +of the festal torches which have been extinguished from the era +of the Revolution. The most venerable and ornamental object +is a chimney-piece set round with Dutch tiles of blue-figured +china, representing scenes from Scripture; and, for aught I +know, the lady of Pownall or Bernard may have sat beside this +fireplace, and told her children the story of each blue tile. A +bar in modern style, well replenished with decanters, bottles, +cigar-boxes, and network bags of lemons, and provided with a +<span class='pageno' id='Page_4'>4</span>beer-pump and a soda-fount, extends along one side of the +room. At my entrance, an elderly person was smacking his +lips, with a zest which satisfied me that the cellars of the Province +House still hold good liquor, though doubtless of other +vintages than were quaffed by the old governors. After sipping +a glass of port sangaree, prepared by the skilful hands of Mr. +Thomas Waite, I besought that worthy successor and representative +of so many historic personages to conduct me over their +time-honored mansion.</p> + +<div class='figright id004'> +<img src='images/i_005.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> +</div> + +<p class='c009'>He readily complied; but, to confess the truth, I was forced +to draw strenuously upon my imagination, in order to find aught +that was interesting in a house which, without its historic associations, +would have seemed merely such a tavern as is usually +favored by the custom of decent city boarders and old-fashioned +country gentlemen. The chambers, which were probably +spacious in former times, are now cut up by partitions, and +subdivided into little nooks, each affording scanty room for +the narrow bed and chair and dressing-table of a single lodger. +The great staircase, however, may be termed, without much +hyperbole, a feature of grandeur and magnificence. It winds +through the midst of the house by flights of broad steps, each +flight terminating in a square landing-place, whence the ascent +is continued towards the cupola. A carved balustrade, freshly +painted in the lower stories, but growing dingier as we ascend, +borders the staircase with its quaintly twisted and intertwined +pillars, from top to bottom. Up these stairs the military boots, +or perchance the gouty shoes, of many a governor have +trodden, as the wearers mounted to the cupola, which afforded +them so wide a view over their metropolis and the surrounding +country. The cupola is an octagon, with several windows, and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_5'>5</span>a door opening upon the roof. From this station, as I pleased +myself with imagining, Gage may have beheld his disastrous +victory on Bunker Hill (unless one of the tri-mountains intervened), +and Howe have marked the approaches of Washington’s +besieging army; although +the buildings, since erected in +the vicinity, have shut out almost +every object, save the +steeple of the Old South, +which seems almost within +arm’s-length. Descending +from the cupola, I paused in +the garret to observe the ponderous +white-oak framework, +so much more massive than +the frames of modern houses, +and thereby resembling an +antique skeleton. The brick +walls, the materials of which +were imported from Holland, +and the timbers of the mansion, +are still as sound as +ever; but the floors and other +interior parts being greatly +decayed, it is contemplated to gut the whole, and build a +new house within the ancient frame and brick work. Among +other inconveniences of the present edifice, mine host mentioned +that any jar or motion was apt to shake down the +dust of ages out of the ceiling of one chamber upon the floor +of that beneath it.</p> + +<div class='figcenter id005'> +<span class='pageno' id='Page_6'>6</span> +<img src='images/i_006.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> +</div> + +<p class='c009'>We stepped forth from the great front window into the +balcony, where, in old times, it was doubtless the custom of +the king’s representative to show himself to a loyal populace, +requiting their huzzas and tossed-up hats with stately bendings +of his dignified person. In those days, the front of the +Province House looked upon the street; and the whole site +now occupied by the brick range of stores, as well as the +present courtyard, was laid out in grass-plats, overshadowed by +trees and bordered by a wrought-iron fence. Now, the old +aristocratic edifice hides its time-worn visage behind an upstart +modern building. At one of the back windows I observed some +pretty tailoresses, sewing, and chatting, and laughing, with now +and then a careless glance towards the balcony. Descending +thence, we again entered the bar-room, where the elderly gentleman +above mentioned, the smack of whose lips had spoken +so favorably for Mr. Waite’s good liquor, was still lounging in +his chair. He seemed to be, if not a lodger, at least a familiar +visitor of the house, who might be supposed to have his regular +score at the bar, his summer seat at the open window, and +his prescriptive corner at the winter’s fireside. Being of a +sociable aspect, I ventured to address him with a remark, calculated +to draw forth his historical reminiscences, if any such were +in his mind; and it gratified me to discover, that, between +memory and tradition, the old gentleman was really possessed +of some very pleasant gossip about the Province House. The +portion of his talk which chiefly interested me was the outline +of the following legend. He professed to have received it at +one or two removes from an eye-witness; but this derivation, +together with the lapse of time, must have afforded opportunities +for many variations of the narrative; so that despairing +of literal and absolute truth, I have not scrupled to make such +further changes as seemed conducive to the reader’s profit +and delight.</p> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<span class='pageno' id='Page_7'>7</span> +<img src='images/i_007.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> +</div> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_9'>9</span>At one of the entertainments given at the Province House, +during the latter part of the siege of Boston, there passed a +scene which has never yet been satisfactorily explained. The +officers of the British army, and the loyal gentry of the province, +most of whom were collected within the beleaguered town, had +been invited to a masked ball; for it was the policy of Sir +William Howe to hide the distress and danger of the period, +and the desperate aspect of the siege, under an ostentation of +festivity. The spectacle of this evening, if the oldest members +of the provincial court circle might be believed, was the most +gay and gorgeous affair that had occurred in the annals of the +government. The brilliantly lighted apartments were thronged +with figures that seemed to have stepped from the dark canvas +<span class='pageno' id='Page_10'>10</span>of historic portraits, or to have flitted forth from the magic pages +of romance, or at least to have flown hither from one of the +London theatres, without a change of garments. Steeled +knights of the Conquest, bearded statesmen of Queen Elizabeth, +and high-ruffled ladies of her court, were mingled with characters +of comedy, such as a party-colored Merry Andrew, jingling +his cap and bells; a Falstaff, almost as provocative of laughter +as his prototype; and a Don Quixote, with a bean-pole for a +lance and a potlid for a shield.</p> + +<div class='figcenter id002'> +<img src='images/i_010.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> +</div> + +<p class='c009'>But the broadest merriment was excited by a group of figures +ridiculously dressed in old regimentals, which seemed to have +<span class='pageno' id='Page_11'>11</span>been purchased at a military rag fair, or pilfered from some +receptacle of the cast-off clothes of both the French and British +armies. Portions of their attire had probably been worn at the +siege of Louisburg, and the coats of most recent cut might have +been rent and tattered by sword, ball, or bayonet, as long ago +as Wolfe’s victory. One of these worthies—a tall, lank figure, +brandishing a rusty sword of immense longitude—purporting +to be no less a personage than General George Washington; +and the other principal officers of the American army, such as +Gates, Lee, Putnam, Schuyler, Ward, and Heath, were represented +by similar scarecrows. An interview in the mock-heroic +style, between the rebel warriors and the British commander-in-chief, +was received with immense applause, which came loudest +of all from the loyalists of the colony. There was one of the +guests, however, who stood apart, eying these antics sternly and +scornfully, at once with a frown and a bitter smile.</p> + +<p class='c009'>It was an old man, formerly of high station and great repute +in the province, and who had been a very famous soldier in his +day. Some surprise had been expressed, that a person of +Colonel Joliffe’s known Whig principles, though now too old +to take an active part in the contest, should have remained in +Boston during the siege, and especially that he should consent +to show himself in the mansion of Sir William Howe. But +thither he had come, with a fair granddaughter under his arm; +and there, amid all the mirth and buffoonery, stood this stern +old figure, the best sustained character in the masquerade, +because so well representing the antique spirit of his native +land. The other guests affirmed that Colonel Joliffe’s black +puritanical scowl threw a shadow round about him; although, in +spite of his sombre influence, their gayety continued to blaze +<span class='pageno' id='Page_12'>12</span>higher, like (an ominous comparison) the flickering brilliancy +of a lamp which has but a little while to burn. Eleven strokes, +full half an hour ago, had pealed from the clock of the Old +South, when a rumor was circulated among the company that +some new spectacle or pageant was about to be exhibited, which +should put a fitting close to the +splendid festivities of the night.</p> + +<div class='figleft id004'> +<img src='images/i_012.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> +</div> + +<p class='c009'>“What new jest has your Excellency +in hand?” asked the Rev. +Mather Byles, whose Presbyterian +scruples had not kept him from +the entertainment. “Trust me, +sir, I have already laughed more +than beseems my cloth, at your +Homeric confabulation with yonder +ragamuffin general of the rebels. +One other such fit of merriment, +and I must throw off my +clerical wig and band.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Not so, good Dr. Byles,” +answered Sir William Howe; “if +mirth were a crime, you had never +gained your doctorate in divinity. +As to this new foolery, I know no +more about it than yourself; perhaps +not so much. Honestly now, Doctor, have you not stirred +up the sober brains of some of your countrymen to enact a scene +in our masquerade?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Perhaps,” slyly remarked the granddaughter of Colonel +Joliffe, whose high spirit had been stung by many taunts against +<span class='pageno' id='Page_13'>13</span>New England,—“perhaps we are to have a mask of allegorical +figures. Victory, with trophies from Lexington and Bunker +Hill,—Plenty, with her overflowing horn, to typify the present +abundance in this good town,—and Glory, with a wreath for +his Excellency’s brow.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Sir William Howe smiled at words which he would have +answered with one of his darkest frowns, had they been uttered +by lips that wore a beard. He was spared the necessity of a +retort, by a singular interruption. A sound of music was heard +without the house, as if proceeding from a full band of military +instruments stationed in the street, playing, not such a festal +strain as was suited to the occasion, but a slow funeral march. +The drums appeared to be muffled, and the trumpets poured +forth a wailing breath, which at once hushed the merriment of +the auditors, filling all with wonder and some with apprehension. +The idea occurred to many, that either the funeral procession +of some great personage had halted in front of the Province +House, or that a corpse, in a velvet-covered and gorgeously +decorated coffin, was about to be borne from the portal. After +listening a moment, Sir William Howe called, in a stern voice, +to the leader of the musicians, who had hitherto enlivened the +entertainment with gay and lightsome melodies. The man was +drum-major to one of the British regiments.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Dighton,” demanded the general, “what means this foolery? +Bid your band silence that dead march; or, by my word, +they shall have sufficient cause for their lugubrious strains! +Silence it, sirrah!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Please your Honor,” answered the drum-major, whose +rubicund visage had lost all its color, “the fault is none of +mine. I and my band are all here together; and I question +<span class='pageno' id='Page_14'>14</span>whether there be a man of us that could play that march without +book. I never heard it but once before, and that was at +the funeral of his late Majesty, King George the Second.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, well!” said Sir William Howe, recovering his composure; +“it is the prelude to some masquerading antic. Let +it pass.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>A figure now presented itself, but, among the many fantastic +masks that were dispersed through the apartments, none could +tell precisely from whence it came. It was a man in an old-fashioned +dress of black serge, and having the aspect of a +steward, or principal domestic in the household of a nobleman, +or great English landholder. This figure advanced to the +outer door of the mansion, and throwing both its leaves wide +open, withdrew a little to one side and looked back towards the +grand staircase, as if expecting some person to descend. At +the same time, the music in the street sounded a loud and doleful +summons. The eyes of Sir William Howe and his guests +being directed to the staircase, there appeared, on the uppermost +landing-place that was discernible from the bottom, several +personages descending towards the door. The foremost was +a man of stern visage, wearing a steeple-crowned hat and a +skullcap beneath it; a dark cloak, and huge wrinkled boots that +came half-way up his legs. Under his arm was a rolled-up +banner, which seemed to be the banner of England, but +strangely rent and torn; he had a sword in his right hand, and +grasped a Bible in his left. The next figure was of milder +aspect, yet full of dignity, wearing a broad ruff, over which +descended a beard, a gown of wrought velvet, and a doublet +and hose of black satin. He carried a roll of manuscript in his +hand. Close behind these two came a young man of very +striking countenance and demeanor, with deep thought and +contemplation on his brow, and perhaps a flash of enthusiasm in +his eye. His garb, like that of his predecessors, was of an +antique fashion, and there was a stain of blood upon his ruff. In +the same group with these were three or four others, all men of +dignity and evident command, and bearing themselves like personages +who were accustomed to the gaze of the multitude. +It was the idea of the beholders, that these figures went to join +the mysterious funeral that had halted in front of the Province +House; yet that supposition seemed to be contradicted by the +air of triumph with which they waved their hands, as they +crossed the threshold and vanished through the portal.</p> + +<div class='figcenter id005'> +<span class='pageno' id='Page_15'>15</span> +<img src='images/i_015.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> +<div class='ic001'> +<p>“Please your honor.”<br /><br />“The fault is none of mine.”</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_17'>17</span>“In the Devil’s name, what is this?” muttered Sir William +Howe to a gentleman beside him; “a procession of the regicide +judges of King Charles the martyr?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“These,” said Colonel Joliffe, breaking silence almost for +the first time that evening,—“these, if I interpret them aright, +are the Puritan governors,—the rulers of the old, original +democracy of Massachusetts. Endicott, with the banner from +which he had torn the symbol of subjection, and Winthrop, and +Sir Henry Vane, and Dudley, Haynes, Bellingham, and Leverett.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Why had that young man a stain of blood upon his ruff?” +asked Miss Joliffe.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Because, in after years,” answered her grandfather, “he +laid down the wisest head in England upon the block, for the +principles of liberty.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Will not your Excellency order out the guard?” whispered +Lord Percy, who, with other British officers, had now assembled +round the general. “There may be a plot under this mummery.”</p> + +<div class='figleft id004'> +<span class='pageno' id='Page_18'>18</span> +<img src='images/i_018.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> +</div> + +<p class='c009'>“Tush! we have nothing +to fear,” carelessly +replied Sir William Howe. +“There can be no worse +treason in the matter than +a jest, and that somewhat +of the dullest. Even were +it a sharp and bitter one, +our best policy would be to +laugh it off. See, here come +more of these gentry.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Another group of +characters had now +partly descended the +staircase. The first +was a venerable and +white-bearded patriarch, +who cautiously +felt his way downward +with a staff. Treading +hastily behind +him, and stretching forth his gauntleted +hand as if to grasp the old +man’s shoulder, came a tall, soldierlike +figure, equipped with a plumed +cap of steel, a bright breastplate, +and a long sword, which rattled against the stairs. Next was +seen a stout man, dressed in rich and courtly attire, but not of +courtly demeanor; his gait had the swinging motion of a seaman’s +walk; and chancing to stumble on the staircase, he suddenly +<span class='pageno' id='Page_19'>19</span>grew wrathful, and was heard to mutter an oath. He was +followed by a noble-looking personage in a curled wig, such as +are represented in the portraits of Queen Anne’s time and +earlier; and the breast of his coat was decorated with an embroidered +star. While advancing to the door, he bowed to the +right hand and to the left, in a very gracious and insinuating +style; but as he crossed the threshold, unlike the early Puritan +governors, he seemed to wring his hands with sorrow.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Prithee, play the part of a chorus, good Dr. Byles,” said +Sir William Howe. “What worthies are these?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“If it please your Excellency, they lived somewhat before +my day,” answered the Doctor; “but doubtless our friend, the +Colonel, has been hand-in-glove with them.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Their living faces I never looked upon,” said Colonel Joliffe, +gravely; “although I have spoken face to face with many rulers +of this land, and shall greet yet another with an old man’s blessing, +ere I die. But we talk of these figures. I take the venerable +patriarch to be Bradstreet, the last of the Puritans, who was +governor at ninety, or thereabouts. The next is Sir Edmund +Andros, a tyrant, as any New England schoolboy will tell you; +and therefore the people cast him down from his high seat into +a dungeon. Then comes Sir William Phipps, shepherd, cooper, +sea-captain, and governor: may many of his countrymen rise as +high, from as low an origin! Lastly, you saw the gracious Earl +of Bellamont, who ruled us under King William.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But what is the meaning of it all?” asked Lord Percy.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now, were I a rebel,” said Miss Joliffe, half aloud, “I might +fancy that the ghosts of these ancient governors had been summoned +to form the funeral procession of royal authority in New +England.”</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_20'>20</span>Several other figures were now seen at the turn of the +staircase. The one in advance had a thoughtful, anxious, and +somewhat crafty expression of face; and in spite of his loftiness +of manner, which was evidently the result both of an ambitious +spirit and of long continuance in high stations, he seemed not +incapable of cringing to a greater than himself. A few steps +behind came an officer in a scarlet and embroidered uniform, +cut in a fashion old enough to have been worn by the Duke of +Marlborough. His nose had a rubicund tinge, which, together +with the twinkle of his eye, might have marked him as a lover +of the wine-cup and good-fellowship; notwithstanding which +tokens, he appeared ill at ease, and often glanced around him, +as if apprehensive of some secret mischief. Next came a portly +gentleman, wearing a coat of shaggy cloth, lined with silken +velvet; he had sense, shrewdness, and humor in his face, and +a folio volume under his arm; but his aspect was that of a man +vexed and tormented beyond all patience and harassed almost +to death. He went hastily down, and was followed by a dignified +person, dressed in a purple velvet suit, with very rich +embroidery; his demeanor would have possessed much stateliness, +only that a grievous fit of the gout compelled him to +hobble from stair to stair, with contortions of face and body. +When Dr. Byles beheld this figure on the staircase, he shivered +as with an ague, but continued to watch him steadfastly, until the +gouty gentleman had reached the threshold, made a gesture of +anguish and despair, and vanished into the outer gloom, whither +the funeral music summoned him.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Governor Belcher!—my old patron!—in his very shape +and dress!” gasped Dr. Byles. “This is an awful mockery!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“A tedious foolery, rather,” said Sir William Howe, with an +<span class='pageno' id='Page_21'>21</span>air of indifference. “But who were the three that preceded +him?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Governor Dudley, a cunning politician,—yet his craft +once brought him to a prison,” replied Colonel Joliffe; “Governor +Shute, formerly a colonel under Marlborough, and whom +the people frightened out of the province; and learned Governor +Burnet, whom the Legislature tormented into a mortal +fever.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Methinks they were miserable men, these royal governors +of Massachusetts,” observed Miss Joliffe. “Heavens, how dim +the light grows!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>It was certainly a fact that the large lamp which illuminated +the staircase now burned dim and dusky: so that several +figures, which passed hastily down the stairs and went forth +from the porch, appeared rather like shadows than persons of +fleshly substance. Sir William Howe and his guests stood at +the doors of the contiguous apartments, watching the progress +of this singular pageant, with various emotions of anger, contempt, +or half-acknowledged fear, but still with an anxious +curiosity. The shapes, which now seemed hastening to join +the mysterious procession, were recognized rather by striking +peculiarities of dress, or broad characteristics of manner, than +by any perceptible resemblance of features to their prototypes. +Their faces, indeed, were invariably kept in deep shadow. But +Dr. Byles, and other gentlemen who had long been familiar with +the successive rulers of the province, were heard to whisper the +names of Shirley, of Pownall, of Sir Francis Bernard, and of +the well-remembered Hutchinson; thereby confessing that the +actors, whoever they might be, in this spectral march of governors, +had succeeded in putting on some distant portraiture of the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_22'>22</span>real personages. As they vanished from the door, still did these +shadows toss their arms into the gloom of night, with a dread +expression of woe. Following +the mimic representative of +Hutchinson came a military +figure, holding before his face +the cocked hat which he had +taken from his powdered +head; but his epaulets and +other insignia of rank were +those of a general officer; +and something in his mien +reminded the beholders of +one who had recently been +master of the Province House, +and chief of all the land.</p> + +<div class='figleft id006'> +<img src='images/i_022.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> +</div> + +<p class='c009'>“The shape of Gage, as +true as in a looking-glass!” +exclaimed Lord Percy, turning +pale.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No, surely,” cried Miss +Joliffe, laughing hysterically; +“it could not be Gage, or Sir +William would have greeted +his old comrade in arms! +Perhaps he will not suffer the next to pass unchallenged.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Of that be assured, young lady,” answered Sir William +Howe, fixing his eyes, with a very marked expression, upon the +immovable visage of her grandfather. “I have long enough +delayed to pay the ceremonies of a host to these departing +<span class='pageno' id='Page_23'>23</span>guests. The next that takes his leave shall receive due +courtesy.”</p> + +<div class='figright id006'> +<img src='images/i_023.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> +</div> + +<p class='c009'>A wild and dreary burst of music came through the open +door. It seemed as if the procession, which had been gradually +filling up its ranks, were now about to move, and that this loud +peal of the wailing trumpets, and roll of the muffled drums, +were a call to some loiterer +to make haste. Many +eyes, by an irresistible impulse, +were turned upon +Sir William Howe, as if +it were he whom the +dreary music summoned +to the funeral of departed +power.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“See!—here comes +the last!” whispered Miss +Joliffe, pointing her tremulous +finger to the staircase.</p> + +<p class='c009'>A figure had come +into view as if descending +the stairs; although +so dusky was the region +whence it emerged, some +of the spectators fancied +that they had seen this +human shape suddenly moulding itself amid the gloom. Downward +the figure came, with a stately and martial tread, and reaching +the lowest stair was observed to be a tall man, booted and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_24'>24</span>wrapped in a military cloak, which was drawn up around the face +so as to meet the flapped brim of a laced hat. The features, therefore, +were completely hidden. But the British officers deemed +that they had seen that military cloak before, and even recognized +the frayed embroidery on the collar, as well as the gilded scabbard +of a sword which protruded from the folds of the cloak, +and glittered in a vivid gleam of light. Apart from these trifling +particulars, there were characteristics of gait and bearing which +impelled the wondering guests to glance from the shrouded +figure to Sir William Howe, as if to satisfy themselves that their +host had not suddenly vanished from the midst of them.</p> + +<p class='c009'>With a dark flush of wrath upon his brow, they saw the +general draw his sword and advance to meet the figure in the +cloak before the latter had stepped one pace upon the floor.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Villain, unmuffle yourself!” cried he. “You pass no +farther!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>The figure, without blenching a hair’s-breadth from the sword +which was pointed at his breast, made a solemn pause and +lowered the cape of the cloak from about his face, yet not +sufficiently for the spectators to catch a glimpse at it. But Sir +William Howe had evidently seen enough. The sternness of +his countenance gave place to a look of wild amazement, if not +horror, while he recoiled several steps from the figure, and let +fall his sword upon the floor. The martial shape again drew +the cloak about his features and passed on; but reaching the +threshold, with his back towards the spectators, he was seen to +stamp his foot and shake his clinched hands in the air. It was +afterwards affirmed that Sir William Howe had repeated that +self-same gesture of rage and sorrow, when, for the last time, +and as the last royal governor, he passed through the portal of +the Province House.</p> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_025fp.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> +<div class='ic001'> +<p><span class='color_red'>“He recoiled Several Steps from the Figure.”</span></p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_25'>25</span>“Hark!—the procession moves,” said Miss Joliffe.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The music was dying away along the street, and its dismal +strains were mingled with the knell of midnight from the steeple +of the Old South, and with the roar of artillery, which +announced that the beleaguering army of Washington had +intrenched itself upon a nearer height than before. As the +deep boom of the cannon smote upon his ear, Colonel Joliffe +raised himself to the full height of his aged form, and smiled +sternly on the British general.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Would your Excellency inquire further into the mystery +of the pageant?” said he.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Take care of your gray head!” cried Sir William Howe, +fiercely, though with a quivering lip. “It has stood too long +on a traitor’s shoulders!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You must make haste to chop it off, then,” calmly replied +the Colonel; “for a few hours longer, and not all the power +of Sir William Howe, nor of his master, shall cause one of +these gray hairs to fall. The empire of Britain, in this ancient +province, is at its last gasp to-night; almost while I speak it is +a dead corpse; and methinks the shadows of the old governors +are fit mourners at its funeral!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>With these words Colonel Joliffe threw on his cloak, and, +drawing his granddaughter’s arm within his own, retired from +the last festival that a British ruler ever held in the old province +of Massachusetts Bay. It was supposed that the Colonel and +the young lady possessed some secret intelligence in regard to +the mysterious pageant of that night. However this might be, +such knowledge has never become general. The actors in the +scene have vanished into deeper obscurity than even that wild +Indian band who scattered the cargoes of the tea-ships on the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_26'>26</span>waves, and gained a place in history, yet left no names. But +superstition, among other legends of this mansion, repeats the +wondrous tale, that on the anniversary night of Britain’s discomfiture, +the ghosts of the ancient governors of Massachusetts +still glide through the portal of the Province House. +And last of all comes a figure shrouded in a military cloak, +tossing his clinched hands into the air, and stamping his iron-shod +boots upon the broad freestone steps with a semblance of +feverish despair, but without the sound of a foot-tramp.</p> + +<p class='c008'>When the truth-telling accents of the elderly gentleman +were hushed, I drew a long breath and looked round the room, +striving, with the best energy of my imagination, to throw a +tinge of romance and historic grandeur over the realities of the +scene. But my nostrils snuffed up a scent of cigar-smoke, +clouds of which the narrator had emitted by way of visible +emblem, I suppose, of the nebulous obscurity of his tale. +Moreover, my gorgeous fantasies were wofully disturbed by +the rattling of the spoon in a tumbler of whiskey punch, which +Mr. Thomas Waite was mingling for a customer. Nor did it +add to the picturesque appearance of the panelled walls, that +the slate of the Brookline stage was suspended against them, +instead of the armorial escutcheon of some far-descended +governor. A stage driver sat at one of the windows, reading +a penny paper of the day,—the “Boston Times,”—and presenting +a figure which could nowise be brought into any picture +of “Times in Boston,” seventy or a hundred years ago. On +the window-seat lay a bundle, neatly done up in brown paper, +the direction of which I had the idle curiosity to read. “Miss +<span class='sc'>Susan Huggins</span>, at the <span class='sc'>Province House</span>.” A pretty chambermaid, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_27'>27</span>no doubt. In truth, it is desperately hard work, when we +attempt to throw the spell of hoar antiquity over localities with +which the living world, and the day that is passing over us, have +aught to do. Yet, as I glanced at the stately staircase, down +which the procession of the old governors had descended, and +as I emerged through the venerable portal, whence their figures +had preceded me, it gladdened me to be conscious of a thrill of +awe. Then diving through the narrow archway, a few strides +transported me into the densest throng of Washington Street.</p> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_027.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> +<div class='ic001'> +<p>A stage driver sat at one of the windows reading a penny paper</p> +</div> +</div> + +<div class='figcenter id003'> +<span class='pageno' id='Page_29'>29</span> +<img src='images/i_029.jpg' alt='EDWARD RANDOLPH’S PORTRAIT' class='ig001' /> +</div> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_31'>31</span> + <h2 class='c005'>II.<br /> EDWARD RANDOLPH’S PORTRAIT.</h2> +</div> + +<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c010'>The old legendary guest of the Province House abode in +my remembrance from midsummer till January. One idle +evening last winter, confident that he would be found in +the snuggest corner of the bar-room, I resolved to pay him +another visit, hoping to deserve well of my country by snatching +from oblivion some else unheard-of fact of history. The night +was chill and raw, and rendered boisterous by almost a gale of +wind, which whistled along Washington Street, causing the gaslights +to flare and flicker within the lamps. As I hurried +onward, my fancy was busy with a comparison between the +present aspect of the street, and that which it probably wore +when the British governors inhabited the mansion whither I +was now going. Brick edifices in those times were few, till +a succession of destructive fires had swept, and swept again, +the wooden dwellings and warehouses from the most populous +quarters of the town. The buildings stood insulated and independent, +not, as now, merging their separate existences into +connected ranges, with a front of tiresome identity, but each +possessing features of its own, as if the owner’s individual taste +had shaped it, and the whole presenting a picturesque irregularity, +the absence of which is hardly compensated by any +beauties of our modern architecture. Such a scene, dimly +vanishing from the eye by the ray of here and there a tallow +<span class='pageno' id='Page_32'>32</span>candle, glimmering through the small panes of scattered windows, +would form a sombre contrast to the street as I beheld +it, with the gaslights blazing from corner to corner, flaming +within the shops, and throwing a noonday brightness through +the huge plates of glass.</p> + +<p class='c009'>But the black, lowering sky, as I turned my eyes upward, +wore, doubtless, the same visage as when it frowned upon the +ante-Revolutionary New-Englanders. The wintry blast had +the same shriek that was familiar to their ears. The Old South +Church, too, still pointed its antique spire into the darkness, +and was lost between earth and heaven; and, as I passed, its +clock, which had warned so many generations how transitory +was their lifetime, spoke heavily and slow the same unregarded +moral to myself. “Only seven o’clock,” thought I. “My old +friend’s legends will scarcely kill the hours ’twixt this and bedtime.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Passing through the narrow arch, I crossed the courtyard, +the confined precincts of which were made visible by a lantern +over the portal of the Province House. On entering the bar-room, +I found, as I expected, the old tradition-monger seated +by a special good fire of anthracite, compelling clouds of smoke +from a corpulent cigar. He recognized me with evident pleasure; +for my rare properties as a patient listener invariably made +me a favorite with elderly gentlemen and ladies of narrative +propensities. Drawing a chair to the fire, I desired mine host +to favor us with a glass apiece of whiskey punch, which was +speedily prepared, steaming hot, with a slice of lemon at the +bottom, a dark red stratum of port wine upon the surface, and +a sprinkling of nutmeg strewn over all. As we touched our +glasses together, my legendary friend made himself known to +<span class='pageno' id='Page_33'>33</span>me as Mr. Bela Tiffany; and I rejoiced at the oddity of the +name, because it gave his image and character a sort of individuality +in my conception. The old gentleman’s draught acted as +a solvent upon his memory, so that it overflowed with tales, +traditions, anecdotes of famous dead people, and traits of +ancient manners, some of which were childish as a nurse’s +lullaby, while others might have been worth the notice of the +grave historian. Nothing impressed me more than a story of a +black mysterious picture, which used to hang in one of the +chambers of the Province House, directly above the room where +we were now sitting. The following is as correct a version of +the fact as the reader would be likely to obtain from any other +source, although, assuredly, it has a tinge of romance approaching +to the marvellous.</p> + +<p class='c008'>In one of the apartments of the Province House there was +long preserved an ancient picture, the frame of which was as +black as ebony, and the canvas itself so dark with age, damp, +and smoke, that not a touch of the painter’s art could be discerned. +Time had thrown an impenetrable veil over it, and left +to tradition and fable and conjecture to say what had once been +there portrayed. During the rule of many successive governors +it had hung, by prescriptive and undisputed right, over the +mantel-piece of the same chamber; and it still kept its place +when Lieutenant-Governor Hutchinson assumed the administration +of the province, on the departure of Sir Francis Bernard.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The Lieutenant-Governor sat, one afternoon, resting his head +against the carved back of his stately armchair, and gazing up +thoughtfully at the void blackness of the picture. It was scarcely +a time for such inactive musing, when affairs of the deepest +<span class='pageno' id='Page_34'>34</span>moment required the ruler’s decision; for, within that very hour, +Hutchinson had received intelligence of the arrival of a British +fleet, bringing three regiments from Halifax to overawe the +insubordination of the people. These troops awaited his permission +to occupy the fortress of Castle William and the town +itself. Yet, instead of affixing his signature to an official order, +there sat the Lieutenant-Governor, so carefully scrutinizing the +black waste of canvas that his demeanor attracted the notice of +two young persons who attended him. One, wearing a military +dress of buff, was his kinsman, Francis Lincoln, the Provincial +Captain of Castle William; the other, who sat on a low stool +beside his chair, was Alice Vane, his favorite niece.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She was clad entirely in white, a pale, ethereal creature, who, +though a native of New England, had been educated abroad, +and seemed not merely a stranger from another clime, but almost +a being from another world. For several years, until left an +orphan, she had dwelt with her father in sunny Italy, and there +had acquired a taste and enthusiasm for sculpture and painting, +which she found few opportunities of gratifying in the undecorated +dwellings of the colonial gentry. It was said that the +early productions of her own pencil exhibited no inferior genius, +though, perhaps, the rude atmosphere of New England had +cramped her hand and dimmed the glowing colors of her fancy. +But, observing her uncle’s steadfast gaze, which appeared to +search through the mist of years to discover the subject of the +picture, her curiosity was excited.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Is it known, my dear uncle,” inquired she, “what this old +picture once represented? Possibly, could it be made visible, it +might prove a masterpiece of some great artist; else, why has +it so long held such a conspicuous place?”</p> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<span class='pageno' id='Page_35'>35</span> +<img src='images/i_035.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> +<div class='ic001'> +<p>y<sup>e</sup> young captaine of y<sup>e</sup> castle tells y<sup>e</sup> story of y<sup>e</sup> picture.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_37'>37</span>As her uncle, contrary to his usual custom (for he was as +attentive to all the humors and caprices of Alice as if she had +been his own best-beloved child), did not immediately reply, the +young captain of Castle William took that office upon himself.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“This dark old square of canvas, my fair cousin,” said he, +“has been an heirloom in the Province House from time immemorial. +As to the painter, I can tell you nothing; but, if half +the stories told of it be true, not one of the great Italian masters +has ever produced so marvellous a piece of work as that before +you.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Captain Lincoln proceeded to relate some of the strange +fables and fantasies, which, as it was impossible to refute them +by ocular demonstration, had grown to be articles of popular +belief, in reference to this old picture. One of the wildest and +at the same time the best accredited accounts stated it to be an +original and authentic portrait of the Evil One, taken at a witch +meeting near Salem; and that its strong and terrible resemblance +had been confirmed by several of the confessing wizards and +witches, at their trial, in open court. It was likewise affirmed +that a familiar spirit, or demon, abode behind the blackness of +the picture, and had shown himself, at seasons of public calamity, +to more than one of the royal governors. Shirley, for instance, +had beheld this ominous apparition, on the eve of General +Abercrombie’s shameful and bloody defeat under the walls of +Ticonderoga. Many of the servants of the Province House had +caught glimpses of a visage frowning down upon them, at morning +or evening twilight, or in the depths of night, while raking +up the fire that glimmered on the hearth beneath; although, if +any were bold enough to hold a torch before the picture, it would +appear as black and undistinguishable as ever. The oldest +<span class='pageno' id='Page_38'>38</span>inhabitant of Boston recollected that his father, in whose days +the portrait had not wholly faded out of sight, had once looked +upon it, but would never suffer himself to be questioned as to the +face which was there represented. In connection with such +stories, it was remarkable that over the top of the frame there +were some ragged remnants of black silk, indicating that a veil +had formerly hung down before the picture, until the duskiness +of time had so effectually concealed it. But, after all, it was the +most singular part of the affair that so many of the pompous +governors of Massachusetts had allowed the obliterated picture +to remain in the state chamber of the Province House.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Some of these fables are really awful,” observed Alice Vane, +who had occasionally shuddered, as well as smiled, while her +cousin spoke. “It would be almost worth while to wipe away +the black surface of the canvas, since the original picture can +hardly be so formidable as those which fancy paints instead +of it.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But would it be possible,” inquired her cousin, “to restore +this dark picture to its pristine hues?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Such arts are known in Italy,” said Alice.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The Lieutenant-Governor had roused himself from his abstracted +mood, and listened with a smile to the conversation of +his young relatives. Yet his voice had something peculiar in its +tones, when he undertook the explanation of the mystery.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I am sorry, Alice, to destroy your faith in the legends of +which you are so fond,” remarked he; “but my antiquarian +researches have long since made me acquainted with the subject +of this picture,—if picture it can be called,—which is no more +visible, nor ever will be, than the face of the long-buried man +whom it once represented. It was the portrait of Edward +Randolph, the founder of this house, a person famous in the +history of New England.”</p> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_039fp.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> +<div class='ic001'> +<p><span class='color_red'>“Some of these fables are really awful”</span></p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_39'>39</span>“Of that Edward Randolph,” exclaimed Captain Lincoln, +“who obtained the repeal of the first provincial charter, under +which our forefathers had enjoyed almost democratic privileges! +He that was styled the arch-enemy of New England, and whose +memory is still held in detestation, as the destroyer of our +liberties!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“It was the same Randolph,” answered Hutchinson, moving +uneasily in his chair. “It was his lot to taste the bitterness of +popular odium.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Our annals tell us,” continued the Captain of Castle William, +“that the curse of the people followed this Randolph where he +went, and wrought evil in all the subsequent events of his life, +and that its effect was seen likewise in the manner of his death. +They say, too, that the inward misery of that curse worked itself +outward, and was visible on the wretched man’s countenance, +making it too horrible to be looked upon. If so, and if this +picture truly represented his aspect, it was in mercy that the +cloud of blackness has gathered over it.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“These traditions are folly to one who has proved, as I have, +how little of historic truth lies at the bottom,” said the Lieutenant-Governor. +“As regards the life and character of Edward +Randolph, too implicit credence has been given to Dr. Cotton +Mather, who—I must say it, though some of his blood runs in +my veins—has filled our early history with old women’s tales, +as fanciful and extravagant as those of Greece or Rome.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And yet,” whispered Alice Vane, “may not such fables +have a moral? And, methinks, if the visage of this portrait be +so dreadful, it is not without a cause that it has hung so long in +<span class='pageno' id='Page_40'>40</span>a chamber of the Province House. When the rulers feel themselves +irresponsible, it were well that they should be reminded +of the awful weight of a people’s curse.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>The Lieutenant-Governor started, and gazed for a moment +at his niece, as if her girlish fantasies had struck upon some +feeling in his own breast, which all his policy or principles could +not entirely subdue. He knew, indeed, that Alice, in spite of +her foreign education, retained the native sympathies of a New +England girl.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Peace, silly child,” cried he, at last, more harshly than he +had ever before addressed the gentle Alice. “The rebuke of a +king is more to be dreaded than the clamor of a wild, misguided +multitude. Captain Lincoln, it is decided. The fortress of +Castle William must be occupied by the royal troops. The +two remaining regiments shall be billeted in the town, or +encamped upon the Common. It is time, after years of tumult, +and almost rebellion, that his Majesty’s government should have +a wall of strength about it.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Trust, sir,—trust yet awhile to the loyalty of the people,” +said Captain Lincoln; “nor teach them that they can ever be +on other terms with British soldiers than those of brotherhood, +as when they fought side by side through the French war. Do +not convert the streets of your native town into a camp. Think +twice before you give up old Castle William, the key of the +province, into other keeping than that of true-born New-Englanders.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Young man, it is decided,” repeated Hutchinson, rising from +his chair. “A British officer will be in attendance this evening +to receive the necessary instructions for the disposal of the troops. +Your presence also will be required. Till then, farewell.”</p> + +<div class='figright id006'> +<span class='pageno' id='Page_41'>41</span> +<img src='images/i_041.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> +<div class='ic001'> +<p>Alice beckoned to the picture.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class='c009'>With these words the Lieutenant-Governor hastily left the +room, while Alice and her cousin more slowly followed, whispering +together, and once pausing to glance back at the mysterious +picture. The Captain of Castle William fancied that the girl’s +air and mien were such as might have belonged to one of those +spirits of fable—fairies, or +creatures of a more antique +mythology—who sometimes +mingled their agency +with mortal affairs, half in +caprice, yet with a sensibility +to human weal or +woe. As he held the door +for her to pass, Alice +beckoned to the picture +and smiled.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Come forth, dark and +evil shape!” cried she. “It +is thine hour!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>In the evening, Lieutenant-Governor +Hutchinson +sat in the same chamber +where the foregoing scene +had occurred, surrounded +by several persons whose various interests had summoned +them together. There were the Selectmen of Boston, plain, +patriarchal fathers of the people, excellent representatives +of the old puritanical founders, whose sombre strength had +stamped so deep an impress upon the New England character. +Contrasting with these were one or two members of Council, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_42'>42</span>richly dressed in the white wigs, the embroidered waistcoats, +and other magnificence of the time, and making a somewhat +ostentatious display of courtier-like ceremonial. In attendance, +likewise, was a major of the British army, awaiting the Lieutenant-Governor’s +orders for the landing of the troops, which still +remained on board the transports. The Captain of Castle +William stood beside Hutchinson’s chair, with folded arms, +glancing rather haughtily at the British officer, by whom he was +soon to be superseded in his command. On a table, in the +centre of the chamber, stood a branched silver candlestick, +throwing down the glow of half a dozen wax lights upon a +paper, apparently ready for the Lieutenant-Governor’s signature.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Partly shrouded in the voluminous folds of one of the window-curtains, +which fell from the ceiling to the floor, was seen +the white drapery of a lady’s robe. It may appear strange that +Alice Vane should have been there, at such a time; but there +was something so childlike, so wayward, in her singular character, +so apart from ordinary rules, that her presence did not +surprise the few who noticed it. Meantime, the chairman of +the Selectmen was addressing to the Lieutenant-Governor a +long and solemn protest against the reception of the British +troops into the town.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And if your Honor,” concluded this excellent but somewhat +prosy gentleman, “shall see fit to persist in bringing these +mercenary sworders and musketeers into our quiet streets, not +on our heads be the responsibility. Think, sir, while there is +yet time, that if one drop of blood be shed, that blood shall be +an eternal stain upon your Honor’s memory. You, sir, have +written, with an able pen, the deeds of our forefathers. The +more to be desired is it, therefore, that yourself should deserve +honorable mention, as a true patriot and upright ruler, when +your own doings shall be written down in history.”</p> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_043fp.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> +<div class='ic001'> +<p><span class='color_red'>“The Chairman of the Selectmen was addressing to the Lieutenant-Governor a Long and Solemn Protest”</span></p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_43'>43</span>“I am not insensible, my good sir, to the natural desire to +stand well in the annals of my country,” replied Hutchinson, +controlling his impatience into courtesy, “nor know I any better +method of attaining that end than by withstanding the merely +temporary spirit of mischief, which, with your pardon, seems to +have infected elder men than myself. Would you have me wait +till the mob shall sack the Province House, as they did my +private mansion? Trust me, sir, the time may come when you +will be glad to flee for protection to the king’s banner, the raising +of which is now so distasteful to you.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes,” said the British major, who was impatiently expecting +the Lieutenant-Governor’s orders. “The demagogues of +this province have raised the devil, and cannot lay him again. +We will exorcise him, in God’s name and the king’s.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“If you meddle with the devil, take care of his claws!” +answered the Captain of Castle William, stirred by the taunt +against his countrymen.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Craving your pardon, young sir,” said the venerable Selectman, +“let not an evil spirit enter into your words. We will +strive against the oppressor with prayer and fasting, as our forefathers +would have done. Like them, moreover, we will submit +to whatever lot a wise Providence may send us,—always, after +our own best exertions to amend it.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And there peep forth the devil’s claws!” muttered Hutchinson, +who well understood the nature of Puritan submission. +“This matter shall be expedited forthwith. When there shall +be a sentinel at every corner, and a court of guard before the +town-house, a loyal gentleman may venture to walk abroad. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_44'>44</span>What to me is the outcry of a mob, in this remote province +of the realm? The King is my master, and England is my +country! Upheld by their armed strength, I set my foot upon +the rabble, and defy them!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>He snatched a pen, and was about to affix his signature to +the paper that lay on the table, when the Captain of Castle +William placed his hand upon his shoulder. The freedom of +the action, so contrary to the ceremonious respect which was +then considered due to rank and dignity, awakened general surprise, +and in none more than in the Lieutenant-Governor himself. +Looking angrily up, he perceived that his young relative +was pointing his finger to the opposite wall. Hutchinson’s eye +followed the signal; and he saw, what had hitherto been unobserved, +that a black silk curtain was suspended before the mysterious +picture, so as completely to conceal it. His thoughts +immediately recurred to the scene of the preceding afternoon; +and, in his surprise, confused by indistinct emotions, yet sensible +that his niece must have had an agency in this phenomenon, +he called loudly upon her.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Alice!—come hither, Alice!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>No sooner had he spoken than Alice Vane glided from her +station, and, pressing one hand across her eyes, with the other +snatched away the sable curtain that concealed the portrait. +An exclamation of surprise burst from every beholder; but the +Lieutenant-Governor’s voice had a tone of horror.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“By Heaven,” said he, in a low, inward murmur, speaking +rather to himself than to those around him, “if the spirit of +Edward Randolph were to appear among us from the place of +torment, he could not wear more of the terrors of hell upon his +face!”</p> + +<div class='figright id006'> +<span class='pageno' id='Page_45'>45</span> +<img src='images/i_045.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> +<div class='ic001'> +<p>She snatched away the sable curtain.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class='c009'>“For some wise end,” said the aged Selectman solemnly, +“hath Providence scattered away the mist of years that had so +long hid this dreadful +effigy. Until this hour +no living man hath +seen what we behold!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Within the antique +frame, which so recently +had enclosed a +sable waste of canvas, +now appeared a visible +picture, still dark, indeed, +in its hues and +shadings, but thrown +forward in strong relief. +It was a half-length +figure of a +gentleman in a rich +but very old-fashioned +dress of embroidered +velvet, with a broad +ruff and a beard, and +wearing a hat, the +brim of which overshadowed +his forehead. Beneath this cloud the eyes had a peculiar +glare which was almost life-like. The whole portrait started +so distinctly out of the background that it had the effect of a +person looking down from the wall at the astonished and awestricken +spectators. The expression of the face, if any words can +convey an idea of it, was that of a wretch detected in some +<span class='pageno' id='Page_46'>46</span>hideous guilt, and exposed to the bitter hatred and laughter and +withering scorn of a vast surrounding multitude. There was the +struggle of defiance, beaten down and overwhelmed by the +crushing weight of ignominy. The torture of the soul had +come forth upon the countenance. It seemed as if the picture, +while hidden behind the cloud of immemorial years, had been all +the time acquiring an intenser depth and darkness of expression, +till now it gloomed forth again, and threw its evil omen over the +present hour. Such, if the wild legend may be credited, was +the portrait of Edward Randolph, as he appeared when a people’s +curse had wrought its influence upon his nature.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“’Twould drive me mad,—that awful face!” said Hutchinson, +who seemed fascinated by the contemplation of it.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Be warned, then!” whispered Alice. “He trampled on a +people’s rights. Behold his punishment,—and avoid a crime +like his!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>The Lieutenant-Governor actually trembled for an instant; +but, exerting his energy,—which was not, however, his most +characteristic feature,—he strove to shake off the spell of +Randolph’s countenance.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Girl!” cried he, laughing bitterly, as he turned to Alice, +“have you brought hither your painter’s art,—your Italian spirit +of intrigue,—your tricks of stage effect,—and think to influence +the councils of rulers and the affairs of nations by such shallow +contrivances? See here!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Stay yet awhile,” said the Selectman, as Hutchinson again +snatched the pen; “for if ever mortal man received a warning +from a tormented soul, your Honor is that man!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Away!” answered Hutchinson fiercely. “Though yonder +senseless picture cried, ‘Forbear!’ it should not move me!”</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_47'>47</span>Casting a scowl of defiance at the pictured face (which +seemed, at that moment, to intensify the horror of its miserable +and wicked look), he scrawled on the paper, in characters +that betokened it a deed of desperation, the name of Thomas +Hutchinson. Then, it is said, he shuddered, as if that signature +had granted away his salvation.</p> + +<div class='figcenter id003'> +<img src='images/i_047.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> +</div> + +<p class='c009'>“It is done,” said he; and placed his hand upon his brow.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“May Heaven forgive the deed,” said the soft, sad accents +of Alice Vane, like the voice of a good spirit flitting away.</p> + +<p class='c009'>When morning came there was a stifled whisper through the +household, and spreading thence about the town, that the dark, +mysterious picture had started from the wall, and spoken face to +<span class='pageno' id='Page_48'>48</span>face with Lieutenant-Governor Hutchinson. If such a miracle +had been wrought, however, no traces of it remained behind; +for within the antique frame nothing could be discerned, save +the impenetrable cloud which had covered the canvas since the +memory of man. If the figure had, indeed, stepped forth, it had +fled back, spirit-like, at the day-dawn, and hidden itself behind a +century’s obscurity. The truth probably was that Alice Vane’s +secret for restoring the hues of the picture had merely effected a +temporary renovation. But those who, in that brief interval, had +beheld the awful visage of Edward Randolph, desired no second +glance, and ever afterwards trembled at the recollection of the +scene, as if an evil spirit had appeared visibly among them. And +as for Hutchinson, when, far over the ocean, his dying hour drew +on, he gasped for breath, and complained that he was choking +with the blood of the Boston massacre; and Francis Lincoln, the +former Captain of Castle William, who was standing at his bedside, +perceived a likeness in his frenzied look to that of Edward +Randolph. Did his broken spirit feel, at that dread hour, the +tremendous burden of a people’s curse?</p> + +<p class='c008'>At the conclusion of this miraculous legend, I inquired of +mine host whether the picture still remained in the chamber over +our heads; but Mr. Tiffany informed me that it had long since +been removed, and was supposed to be hidden in some out-of-the-way +corner of the New England Museum. Perchance some +curious antiquary may light upon it there, and, with the assistance +of Mr. Howorth, the picture-cleaner, may supply a not +unnecessary proof of the authenticity of the facts here set down. +During the progress of the story a storm had been gathering +abroad, and raging and rattling so loudly in the upper regions +<span class='pageno' id='Page_49'>49</span>of the Province House, that it seemed as if all the old governors +and great men were running riot above stairs, while Mr. Bela +Tiffany babbled of them below. In the course of generations, +when many people have lived and died in an ancient house, the +whistling of the wind through its crannies, and the creaking of +its beams and rafters, become strangely like the tones of the +human voice, or thundering laughter, or heavy footsteps treading +the deserted chambers. It is as if the echoes of half a +century were revived. Such were the ghostly sounds that roared +and murmured in our ears, when I took leave of the circle round +the fireside of the Province House, and, plunging down the doorsteps, +fought my way homeward against a drifting snow-storm.</p> + +<div class='figcenter id003'> +<span class='pageno' id='Page_51'>51</span> +<img src='images/i_051.jpg' alt='LADYE ELEANORES MANTLE' class='ig001' /> +</div> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_53'>53</span> + <h2 class='c005'>III.<br /> LADY ELEANORE’S MANTLE.</h2> +</div> + +<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c010'>Mine excellent friend, the landlord of the Province House, +was pleased, the other evening, to invite Mr. Tiffany and +myself to an oyster-supper. This slight mark of respect +and gratitude, as he handsomely observed, was far less than the +ingenious tale-teller, and I, the humble note-taker of his narratives, +had fairly earned, by the public notice which our joint +lucubrations had attracted to his establishment. Many a cigar +had been smoked within his premises,—many a glass of wine, +or more potent aqua vitæ, had been quaffed,—many a dinner +had been eaten by curious strangers, who, save for the fortunate +conjunction of Mr. Tiffany and me, would never have ventured +through that darksome avenue which gives access to the historic +precincts of the Province House. In short, if any credit +be due to the courteous assurances of Mr. Thomas Waite, we +had brought his forgotten mansion almost as effectually into +public view as if we had thrown down the vulgar range of shoeshops +and dry-goods stores which hides its aristocratic front +from Washington Street. It may be unadvisable, however, to +speak too loudly of the increased custom of the house, lest Mr. +Waite should find it difficult to renew the lease on so favorable +terms as heretofore.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Being thus welcomed as benefactors, neither Mr. Tiffany nor +myself felt any scruple in doing full justice to the good things +that were set before us. If the feast were less magnificent than +<span class='pageno' id='Page_54'>54</span>those same panelled walls had witnessed in a bygone century,—if +mine host presided with somewhat less of state than might +have befitted a successor of the royal governors,—if the +guests made a less imposing show than the bewigged and powdered +and embroidered dignitaries who erst banqueted at the +gubernatorial table, and now sleep within their armorial tombs +on Copp’s Hill or round King’s Chapel,—yet never, I may +boldly say, did a more comfortable little party assemble in the +Province House, from Queen Anne’s days to the Revolution. +The occasion was rendered more interesting by the presence of +a venerable personage, whose own actual reminiscences went +back to the epoch of Gage and Howe, and even supplied him +with a doubtful anecdote or two of Hutchinson. He was one +of that small, and now all but extinguished class, whose attachment +to royalty, and to the colonial institutions and customs +that were connected with it, had never yielded to the democratic +heresies of after times. The young queen of Britain has +not a more loyal subject in her realm—perhaps not one who +would kneel before her throne with such reverential love—than +this old grandsire, whose head has whitened beneath the mild +sway of the Republic, which still, in his mellower moments, he +terms a usurpation. Yet prejudices so obstinate have not made +him an ungentle or impracticable companion. If the truth must +be told, the life of the aged loyalist has been of such a scrambling +and unsettled character,—he has had so little choice of +friends, and been so often destitute of any,—that I doubt +whether he would refuse a cup of kindness with either Oliver +Cromwell or John Hancock; to say nothing of any democrat +now upon the stage. In another paper of this series, I may, +perhaps, give the reader a closer glimpse of his portrait.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_55'>55</span>Our host, in due season, uncorked a bottle of Madeira of +such exquisite perfume and desirable flavor that he surely +must have discovered it in an ancient bin, down deep beneath +the deepest cellar, where some jolly old butler stored away the +Governor’s choicest wine, and forgot to reveal the secret on his +death-bed. Peace to his red-nosed ghost, and a libation to his +memory! This precious liquor was imbibed by Mr. Tiffany +with peculiar zest; and, after sipping the third glass, it was his +pleasure to give us one of the oddest legends which he had yet +raked from the storehouse where he keeps such matters. With +some suitable adornments from my own fancy, it ran pretty +much as follows.</p> + +<p class='c008'>Not long after Colonel Shute had assumed the government +of Massachusetts Bay, now nearly a hundred and twenty years +ago, a young lady of rank and fortune arrived from England, +to claim his protection as her guardian. He was her distant +relative, but the nearest who had survived the gradual extinction +of her family; so that no more eligible shelter could be +found for the rich and high-born Lady Eleanore Rochcliffe than +within the Province House of a transatlantic colony. The consort +of Governor Shute, moreover, had been as a mother to her +childhood, and was now anxious to receive her, in the hope that +a beautiful young woman would be exposed to infinitely less +peril from the primitive society of New England than amid the +artifices and corruptions of a court. If either the Governor or +his lady had especially consulted their own comfort, they would +probably have sought to devolve the responsibility on other +hands; since, with some noble and splendid traits of character, +Lady Eleanore was remarkable for a harsh, unyielding pride, a +<span class='pageno' id='Page_56'>56</span>haughty consciousness of her hereditary and personal advantages, +which made her almost incapable of control. Judging +from many traditionary anecdotes, this peculiar temper was +hardly less than a monomania; or, if the acts which it inspired +were those of a sane person, it seemed due from Providence +that pride so sinful should be followed by as severe a retribution. +That tinge of the marvellous which is thrown over so +many of these half-forgotten legends has probably imparted an +additional wildness to the strange story of Lady Eleanore +Rochcliffe.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The ship in which she came passenger had arrived at Newport, +whence Lady Eleanore was conveyed to Boston in the +Governor’s coach, attended by a small escort of gentlemen on +horseback. The ponderous equipage, with its four black horses, +attracted much notice as it rumbled through Cornhill, surrounded +by the prancing steeds of half a dozen cavaliers, with swords +dangling to their stirrups and pistols at their holsters. Through +the large glass windows of the coach, as it rolled along, the +people could discern the figure of Lady Eleanore, strangely combining +an almost queenly stateliness with the grace and beauty +of a maiden in her teens. A singular tale had gone abroad +among the ladies of the province, that their fair rival was indebted +for much of the irresistible charm of her appearance to a +certain article of dress,—an embroidered mantle,—which had +been wrought by the most skilful artist in London, and possessed +even magical properties of adornment. On the present occasion, +however, she owed nothing to the witchery of dress, being clad +in a riding-habit of velvet, which would have appeared stiff and +ungraceful on any other form.</p> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<span class='pageno' id='Page_57'>57</span> +<img src='images/i_057.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> +<div class='ic001'> +<p>Y<sup>e</sup> beauteous Ladye Eleanore cometh to Boston—</p> +</div> +</div> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<span class='pageno' id='Page_58'>58</span> +<img src='images/i_059fp.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> +<div class='ic001'> +<p><span class='color_red'>“A Pale Young Man ... prostrated himself beside the Coach”</span></p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_59'>59</span>The coachman reined in his four black steeds, and the whole +cavalcade came to a pause in front of the contorted iron balustrade +that fenced the Province House from the public street. +It was an awkward coincidence that the bell of the Old South +was just then tolling for a funeral; so that, instead of a gladsome +peal, with which it was customary to announce the arrival of +distinguished strangers, Lady Eleanore Rochcliffe was ushered +by a doleful clang, as if calamity had come embodied in her +beautiful person.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“A very great disrespect!” exclaimed Captain Langford, an +English officer, who had recently brought despatches to Governor +Shute. “The funeral should have been deferred, lest +Lady Eleanore’s spirits be affected by such a dismal welcome.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“With your pardon, sir,” replied Dr. Clarke, a physician, and +a famous champion of the popular party, “whatever the heralds +may pretend, a dead beggar must have precedence of a living +queen. King Death confers high privileges.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>These remarks were interchanged while the speakers waited +a passage through the crowd, which had gathered on each side +of the gateway, leaving an open avenue to the portal of the +Province House. A black slave in livery now leaped from +behind the coach, and threw open the door; while at the same +moment Governor Shute descended the flight of steps from his +mansion, to assist Lady Eleanore in alighting. But the Governor’s +stately approach was anticipated in a manner that excited +general astonishment. A pale young man, with his black hair +all in disorder, rushed from the throng, and prostrated himself +beside the coach, thus offering his person as a footstool for Lady +Eleanore Rochcliffe to tread upon. She held back an instant; +yet with an expression as if doubting whether the young man +were worthy to bear the weight of her footstep, rather than +<span class='pageno' id='Page_60'>60</span>dissatisfied to receive such awful reverence from a fellow-mortal.</p> + +<div class='figleft id006'> +<img src='images/i_060.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> +<div class='ic001'> +<p>Governor Shute descended the flight of steps.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class='c009'>“Up, sir,” said the Governor sternly, at the same time lifting +his cane over +the intruder. “What +means the Bedlamite +by this freak?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Nay,” answered +Lady Eleanore playfully, +but with more +scorn than pity in her +tone, “your Excellency +shall not strike +him. When men seek +only to be trampled +upon, it were a pity +to deny them a favor so +easily granted—and +so well deserved.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Then, though as +lightly as a sunbeam +on a cloud, she placed +her foot upon the +cowering form, and +extended her hand to +meet that of the Governor. There was a brief interval, during +which Lady Eleanore retained this attitude; and never, surely, was +there an apter emblem of aristocracy and hereditary pride trampling +on human sympathies and the kindred of nature than +these two figures presented at that moment. Yet the spectators +<span class='pageno' id='Page_61'>61</span>were so smitten with her beauty, and so essential did pride seem +to the existence of such a creature, that they gave a simultaneous +acclamation of applause.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Who is this insolent young fellow?” inquired Captain +Langford, who still remained beside Dr. Clarke. “If he be +in his senses, his impertinence demands the bastinado. If mad, +Lady Eleanore should be secured from further inconvenience, by +his confinement.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“His name is Jervase Helwyse,” answered the Doctor; “a +youth of no birth or fortune, or other advantages, save the mind +and soul that nature gave him; and, being secretary to our colonial +agent in London, it was his misfortune to meet this Lady +Eleanore Rochcliffe. He loved her,—and her scorn has driven +him mad.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“He was mad so to aspire,” observed the English officer.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“It may be so,” said Dr. Clarke, frowning as he spoke. +“But I tell you, sir, I could well-nigh doubt the justice of the +heaven above us, if no signal humiliation overtake this lady, +who now treads so haughtily into yonder mansion. She seeks +to place herself above the sympathies of our common nature, +which envelops all human souls. See, if that nature do not +assert its claim over her in some mode that shall bring her level +with the lowest!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Never!” cried Captain Langford indignantly; “neither in +life, nor when they lay her with her ancestors.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Not many days afterwards the Governor gave a ball in honor +of Lady Eleanore Rochcliffe. The principal gentry of the colony +received invitations, which were distributed to their residences, +far and near, by messengers on horseback, bearing missives +sealed with all the formality of official despatches. In obedience +<span class='pageno' id='Page_62'>62</span>to the summons, there was a general gathering of rank, wealth, +and beauty; and the wide door of the Province House had seldom +given admittance to more numerous and honorable guests +than on the evening of Lady Eleanore’s ball. Without much +extravagance of eulogy, the spectacle might even be termed +splendid; for, according to the fashion of the times, the ladies +shone in rich silks and satins, outspread over wide-projecting +hoops; and the gentlemen glittered in gold embroidery, laid +unsparingly upon the purple, or scarlet, or sky-blue velvet, which +was the material of their coats and waistcoats. The latter article +of dress was of great importance, since it enveloped the wearer’s +body nearly to the knees, and was perhaps bedizened with the +amount of his whole year’s income, in golden flowers and foliage. +The altered taste of the present day—a taste symbolic of a deep +change in the whole system of society—would look upon almost +any of those gorgeous figures as ridiculous; although that evening +the guests sought their reflections in the pier-glasses, and +rejoiced to catch their own glitter amid the glittering crowd. +What a pity that one of the stately mirrors has not preserved a +picture of the scene, which, by the very traits that were so transitory, +might have taught us much that would be worth knowing +and remembering.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Would, at least, that either painter or mirror could convey +to us some faint idea of a garment, already noticed in this +legend,—the Lady Eleanore’s embroidered mantle,—which +the gossips whispered was invested with magic properties, so as +to lend a new and untried grace to her figure each time that she +put it on! Idle fancy as it is, this mysterious mantle has +thrown an awe around my image of her, partly from its fabled +virtues, and partly because it was the handiwork of a dying +woman, and, perchance, owed the fantastic grace of its conception +to the delirium of approaching death.</p> + +<div class='figcenter id003'> +<span class='pageno' id='Page_63'>63</span> +<img src='images/i_063.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> +<div class='ic001'> +<p>A gathering of rank, wealth and beauty</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_65'>65</span>After the ceremonial greetings had been paid, Lady Eleanore +Rochcliffe stood apart from the mob of guests, insulating +herself within a small and distinguished circle, to whom she +accorded a more cordial favor than to the general throng. The +waxen torches threw their radiance vividly over the scene, +bringing out its brilliant points in strong relief; but she gazed +carelessly, and with now and then an expression of weariness +or scorn, tempered with such feminine grace that her auditors +scarcely perceived the moral deformity of which it was the +utterance. She beheld the spectacle, not with vulgar ridicule, +as disdaining to be pleased with the provincial mockery of a +court festival, but with the deeper scorn of one whose spirit +held itself too high to participate in the enjoyment of other +human souls. Whether or no the recollections of those who +saw her that evening were influenced by the strange events +with which she was subsequently connected, so it was that her +figure ever after recurred to them as marked by something wild +and unnatural; although, at the time, the general whisper was +of her exceeding beauty, and of the indescribable charm which +her mantle threw around her. Some close observers, indeed, +detected a feverish flush and alternate paleness of countenance, +with a corresponding flow and revulsion of spirits, and once or +twice a painful and helpless betrayal of lassitude, as if she were +on the point of sinking to the ground. Then, with a nervous +shudder, she seemed to arouse her energies, and threw some +bright and playful, yet half-wicked sarcasm into the conversation. +There was so strange a characteristic in her manners and +sentiments that it astonished every right-minded listener; till, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_66'>66</span>looking in her face, a lurking and incomprehensible glance and +smile perplexed them with doubts both as to her seriousness +and sanity. Gradually, Lady Eleanore Rochcliffe’s circle grew +smaller, till only four gentlemen remained in it. These were +Captain Langford, the English officer before mentioned; a +Virginian planter, who had come to Massachusetts on some +political errand; a young Episcopal clergyman, the grandson +of a British Earl; and, lastly, the private secretary of Governor +Shute, whose obsequiousness had won a sort of tolerance from +Lady Eleanore.</p> + +<p class='c009'>At different periods of the evening the liveried servants of +the Province House passed among the guests, bearing huge +trays of refreshments, and French and Spanish wines. Lady +Eleanore Rochcliffe, who refused to wet her beautiful lips even +with a bubble of champagne, had sunk back into a large +damask chair, apparently overwearied either with the excitement +of the scene or its tedium; and while, for an instant, she +was unconscious of voices, laughter, and music, a young man +stole forward, and knelt down at her feet. He bore a salver in +his hand, on which was a chased silver goblet, filled to the brim +with wine, which he offered as reverentially as to a crowned +queen, or rather with the awful devotion of a priest doing sacrifice +to his idol. Conscious that some one touched her robe, +Lady Eleanore started, and unclosed her eyes upon the pale, +wild features and dishevelled hair of Jervase Helwyse.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Why do you haunt me thus?” said she, in a languid tone, +but with a kindlier feeling than she ordinarily permitted herself +to express. “They tell me that I have done you harm.”</p> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<span class='pageno' id='Page_67'>67</span> +<img src='images/i_067.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> +<div class='ic001'> +<p>“I pray you take one sip of this holy wine.”</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_69'>69</span>“Heaven knows if that be so,” replied the young man +solemnly. “But, Lady Eleanore, in requital of that harm, if +such there be, and for your own earthly and heavenly welfare, I +pray you to take one sip of this holy wine, and then to pass the +goblet round among the guests. And this shall be a symbol +that you have not sought to withdraw yourself from the chain +of human sympathies,—which whoso would shake off must +keep company with fallen angels.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Where has this mad fellow stolen that sacramental vessel?” +exclaimed the Episcopal clergyman.</p> + +<p class='c009'>This question drew the notice of the guests to the silver cup, +which was recognized as appertaining to the communion plate +of the Old South Church; and, for aught that could be known, +it was brimming over with the consecrated wine.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Perhaps it is poisoned,” half whispered the Governor’s +secretary.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Pour it down the villain’s throat!” cried the Virginian +fiercely.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Turn him out of the house!” cried Captain Langford, +seizing Jervase Helwyse so roughly by the shoulder that the +sacramental cup was overturned, and its contents sprinkled +upon Lady Eleanore’s mantle. “Whether knave, fool, or +Bedlamite, it is intolerable that the fellow should go at large.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Pray, gentlemen, do my poor admirer no harm,” said Lady +Eleanore, with a faint and weary smile. “Take him out of my +sight, if such be your pleasure; for I can find in my heart to do +nothing but laugh at him; whereas, in all decency and conscience, +it would become me to weep for the mischief I have +wrought!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>But while the bystanders were attempting to lead away the +unfortunate young man, he broke from them, and, with a wild, +impassioned earnestness, offered a new and equally strange +<span class='pageno' id='Page_70'>70</span>petition to Lady Eleanore. It was no other than that she +should throw off the mantle, which, while he pressed the silver +cup of wine upon her, she had drawn more closely around her +form, so as almost to shroud herself within it.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Cast it from you!” exclaimed Jervase Helwyse, clasping +his hands in an agony of entreaty. “It may not yet be too +late! Give the accursed garment to the flames!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>But Lady Eleanore, with a laugh of scorn, drew the rich +folds of the embroidered mantle over her head, in such a fashion +as to give a completely new aspect to her beautiful face, which—half +hidden, half revealed—seemed to belong to some being +of mysterious character and purposes.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Farewell, Jervase Helwyse!” said she. “Keep my image +in your remembrance, as you behold it now.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Alas, lady!” he replied, in a tone no longer wild, but sad +as a funeral bell. “We must meet shortly, when your face may +wear another aspect, and that shall be the image that must abide +within me.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>He made no more resistance to the violent efforts of the +gentlemen and servants, who almost dragged him out of the +apartment, and dismissed him roughly from the iron gate of +the Province House. Captain Langford, who had been very +active in this affair, was returning to the presence of Lady Eleanore +Rochcliffe, when he encountered the physician, Dr. Clarke, +with whom he had held some casual talk on the day of her arrival. +The Doctor stood apart, separated from Lady Eleanore by +the width of the room, but eying her with such keen sagacity +that Captain Langford involuntarily gave him credit for the +discovery of some deep secret.</p> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<span class='pageno' id='Page_71'>71</span> +<img src='images/i_071.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> +<div class='ic001'> +<p>Keep my image in your remembrance</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_73'>73</span>“You appear to be smitten, after all, with the charms of this +queenly maiden,” said he, hoping thus to draw forth the physician’s +hidden knowledge.</p> + +<div class='figright id006'> +<img src='images/i_073.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> +<div class='ic001'> +<p>The communication could be of no agreeable import.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class='c009'>“God forbid!” answered Dr. Clarke, with a grave smile; +“and if you be wise, you will put up the same prayer for yourself. +Woe to those who shall be smitten by this beautiful Lady +Eleanore! But yonder +stands the Governor, +and I have a +word or two for his +private ear. Good +night!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>He accordingly advanced +to Governor +Shute, and addressed +him in so low a tone +that none of the bystanders +could catch +a word of what he +said; although the sudden change of his Excellency’s hitherto +cheerful visage betokened that the communication could be of +no agreeable import. A very few moments afterwards, it was +announced to the guests that an unforeseen circumstance +rendered it necessary to put a premature close to the festival.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The ball at the Province House supplied a topic of conversation +for the colonial metropolis for some days after its occurrence, +and might still longer have been the general theme, only that a +subject of all-engrossing interest thrust it, for a time, from the +public recollection. This was the appearance of a dreadful epidemic, +which in that age, and long before and afterwards, was +wont to slay its hundreds and thousands on both sides of the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_74'>74</span>Atlantic. On the occasion of which we speak, it was distinguished +by a peculiar virulence, insomuch that it has left its +traces—its pit-marks, to use an appropriate figure—on the +history of the country, the affairs of which were thrown into confusion +by its ravages. At first, unlike its ordinary course, the +disease seemed to confine itself to the higher circles of society, +selecting its victims from among the proud, the well-born, and +the wealthy; entering unabashed into stately chambers, and lying +down with the slumberers in silken beds. Some of the most +distinguished guests of the Province House—even those whom +the haughty Lady Eleanore Rochcliffe had deemed not unworthy +of her favor—were stricken by this fatal scourge. It was noticed, +with an ungenerous bitterness of feeling, that the four gentlemen—the +Virginian, the British officer, the young clergyman, +and the Governor’s secretary—who had been her most devoted +attendants on the evening of the ball, were the foremost on whom +the plague-stroke fell. But the disease, pursuing its onward +progress, soon ceased to be exclusively a prerogative of aristocracy. +Its red brand was no longer conferred like a noble’s star, +or an order of knighthood. It threaded its way through the +narrow and crooked streets, and entered the low, mean, darksome +dwellings, and laid its hand of death upon the artisans and +laboring classes of the town. It compelled rich and poor to feel +themselves brethren, then; and stalking to and fro across the +Three Hills, with a fierceness which made it almost a new pestilence, +there was that mighty conqueror—that scourge and +horror of our forefathers—the Small-Pox!</p> + +<p class='c009'>We cannot estimate the affright which this plague inspired +of yore, by contemplating it as the fangless monster of the present +day. We must remember, rather, with what awe we watched +<span class='pageno' id='Page_75'>75</span>the gigantic footsteps of the Asiatic cholera, striding from shore +to shore of the Atlantic, and marching like destiny upon cities +far remote, which flight had already half depopulated. There is +no other fear so horrible and unhumanizing as that which makes +man dread to breathe Heaven’s vital air, lest it be poison, or to +grasp the hand of a brother or friend, lest the gripe of the pestilence +should clutch him. Such was the dismay that now followed +in the track of the disease, or ran before it throughout +the town. Graves were hastily dug, and the pestilential relics +as hastily covered, because the dead were enemies of the living, +and strove to draw them headlong, as it were, into their own +dismal pit. The public councils were suspended, as if mortal +wisdom might relinquish its devices, now that an unearthly +usurper had found his way into the ruler’s mansion. Had an +enemy’s fleet been hovering on the coast, or his armies trampling +on our soil, the people would probably have committed their +defence to that same direful conqueror who had wrought their +own calamity, and would permit no interference with his sway. +This conqueror had a symbol of his triumphs. It was a bloodred +flag, that fluttered in the tainted air over the door of every +dwelling into which the Small-Pox had entered.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Such a banner was long since waving over the portal of the +Province House; for thence, as was proved by tracking its footsteps +back, had all this dreadful mischief issued. It had been +traced back to a lady’s luxurious chamber,—to the proudest of +the proud,—to her that was so delicate, and hardly owned herself +of earthly mould,—to the haughty one, who took her stand +above human sympathies,—to Lady Eleanore! There remained +no room for doubt that the contagion had lurked in that gorgeous +mantle, which threw so strange a grace around her at the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_76'>76</span>festival. Its fantastic splendor had been conceived in the delirious +brain of a woman on her death-bed, and was the last toil +of her stiffening fingers, which had interwoven fate and misery +with its golden threads. This dark tale, whispered at first, was +now bruited far and wide. The people raved against the Lady +Eleanore, and cried out that her pride and scorn had evoked a +fiend, and that, between them both, this monstrous evil had been +born. At times, their rage and despair took the semblance of +grinning mirth; and whenever the red flag of the pestilence was +hoisted over another and yet another door, they clapped their +hands and shouted through the streets in bitter mockery, “Behold +a new triumph for the Lady Eleanore!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>One day, in the midst of these dismal times, a wild figure +approached the portal of the Province House, and, folding his +arms, stood contemplating the scarlet banner, which a passing +breeze shook fitfully, as if to fling abroad the contagion that it +typified. At length, climbing one of the pillars by means of the +iron balustrade, he took down the flag, and entered the mansion, +waving it above his head. At the foot of the staircase he met +the Governor, booted and spurred, with his cloak drawn around +him, evidently on the point of setting forth upon a journey.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Wretched lunatic, what do you seek here?” exclaimed +Shute, extending his cane to guard himself from contact. +“There is nothing here but Death. Back,—or you will meet +him!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Death will not touch me, the banner-bearer of the pestilence!” +cried Jervase Helwyse, shaking the red flag aloft. +“Death and the Pestilence, who wears the aspect of the Lady +Eleanore, will walk through the streets to-night, and I must +march before them with this banner!”</p> + +<div class='figright id006'> +<span class='pageno' id='Page_77'>77</span> +<img src='images/i_077.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> +<div class='ic001'> +<p>“Young man, what is your purpose?”</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class='c009'>“Why do I waste words on the fellow?” muttered the +Governor, drawing his cloak across his mouth. “What matters +his miserable life, when none of us are sure of twelve +hours’ breath? On, fool, to your own destruction!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>He made way for Jervase Helwyse, who immediately +ascended the staircase, but, on the first landing-place, +was arrested by the firm grasp of a hand upon +his shoulder. Looking +fiercely up, with a +madman’s impulse to +struggle with and rend +asunder his opponent, +he found himself powerless +beneath a calm, stern +eye, which possessed the +mysterious property of +quelling frenzy at its +height. The person +whom he had now +encountered was the +physician, Dr. Clarke, +the duties of whose sad +profession had led him +to the Province House, +where he was an infrequent +guest in more +prosperous times.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Young man, what is your purpose?” demanded he.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I seek the Lady Eleanore,” answered Jervase Helwyse +submissively.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_78'>78</span>“All have fled from her,” said the physician. “Why do you +seek her now? I tell you, youth, her nurse fell death-stricken +on the threshold of that fatal chamber. Know ye not that +never came such a curse to our shores as this lovely Lady +Eleanore?—that her breath has filled the air with poison?—that +she has shaken pestilence and death upon the land, from +the folds of her accursed mantle?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Let me look upon her!” rejoined the mad youth more +wildly. “Let me behold her, in her awful beauty, clad in the +regal garments of the pestilence! She and Death sit on a +throne together. Let me kneel down before them!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Poor youth!” said Dr. Clarke; and, moved by a deep sense +of human weakness, a smile of caustic humor curled his lip +even then. “Wilt thou still worship the destroyer, and surround +her image with fantasies the more magnificent, the more +evil she has wrought? Thus man doth ever to his tyrants! +Approach, then! Madness, as I have noted, has that good +efficacy that it will guard you from contagion; and perchance +its own cure may be found in yonder chamber.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Ascending another flight of stairs, he threw open a door, +and signed to Jervase Helwyse that he should enter. The poor +lunatic, it seems probable, had cherished a delusion that his +haughty mistress sat in state, unharmed herself by the pestilential +influence, which, as by enchantment, she scattered round +about her. He dreamed, no doubt, that her beauty was not +dimmed, but brightened into superhuman splendor. With such +anticipations, he stole reverentially to the door at which the +physician stood, but paused upon the threshold, gazing fearfully +into the gloom of the darkened chamber.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Where is the Lady Eleanore?” whispered he.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_79'>79</span>“Call her,” replied the physician.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Lady Eleanore!—Princess!—Queen of Death!” cried +Jervase Helwyse, advancing three steps into the chamber. +“She is not here! There, on yonder table, I behold the sparkle +of a diamond which once she wore upon her bosom. There,”—and +he shuddered,—“there hangs her mantle, on which a +dead woman embroidered a spell of dreadful potency. But +where is the Lady Eleanore?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Something stirred within the silken curtains of a canopied +bed; and a low moan was uttered, which, listening intently, +Jervase Helwyse began to distinguish as a woman’s voice, complaining +dolefully of thirst. He fancied, even, that he recognized +its tones.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“My throat!—my throat is scorched,” murmured the voice. +“A drop of water!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“What thing art thou?” said the brain-stricken youth, +drawing near the bed and tearing asunder its curtains. “Whose +voice hast thou stolen for thy murmurs and miserable petitions, +as if Lady Eleanore could be conscious of mortal infirmity? +Fie! Heap of diseased mortality, why lurkest thou in my +lady’s chamber?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“O Jervase Helwyse,” said the voice,—and, as it spoke, the +figure contorted itself, struggling to hide its blasted face,—“look +not now on the woman you once loved! The curse of +Heaven hath stricken me, because I would not call man my +brother, nor woman sister. I wrapped myself in <span class='fss'>PRIDE</span> as in a +<span class='fss'>MANTLE</span>, and scorned the sympathies of nature; and therefore +has nature made this wretched body the medium of a dreadful +sympathy. You are avenged,—they are all avenged,—nature +is avenged,—for I am Eleanore Rochcliffe!”</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_80'>80</span>The malice of his mental disease, the bitterness lurking at +the bottom of his heart, mad as he was, for a blighted and +ruined life, and love that had been paid with cruel scorn, awoke +within the breast of Jervase Helwyse. He shook his finger at +the wretched girl, and the chamber echoed, the curtains of the +bed were shaken, with his outburst of insane merriment.</p> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_080.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> +<div class='ic001'> +<p>“What thing art thou?”</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class='c009'>“Another triumph for the Lady Eleanore!” he cried. “All +have been her victims! Who so worthy to be the final victim +as herself?”</p> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_081fp.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> +<div class='ic001'> +<p><span class='color_red'>“That Night a Procession passed by Torchlight”</span></p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_81'>81</span>Impelled by some new fantasy of his crazed intellect, he +snatched the fatal mantle and rushed from the chamber and the +house. That night, a procession passed, by torchlight, through +the streets, bearing in the midst the figure of a woman, enveloped +with a richly embroidered mantle; while in advance stalked +Jervase Helwyse, waving the red flag of the pestilence. Arriving +opposite the Province House, the mob burned the effigy, +and a strong wind came and swept away the ashes. It was said +that, from that very hour, the pestilence abated, as if its sway +had some mysterious connection, from the first plague-stroke to +the last, with Lady Eleanore’s Mantle. A remarkable uncertainty +broods over that unhappy lady’s fate. There is a belief, +however, that, in a certain chamber of this mansion, a female +form may sometimes be duskily discerned, shrinking into the +darkest corner, and muffling her face within an embroidered +mantle. Supposing the legend true, can this be other than the +once proud Lady Eleanore?</p> + +<p class='c008'>Mine host, and the old loyalist, and I bestowed no little +warmth of applause upon this narrative, in which we had all +been deeply interested; for the reader can scarcely conceive how +unspeakably the effect of such a tale is heightened when, as in +the present case, we may repose perfect confidence in the veracity +of him who tells it. For my own part, knowing how scrupulous +is Mr. Tiffany to settle the foundation of his facts, I could +not have believed him one whit the more faithfully had he professed +himself an eye-witness of the doings and sufferings of +poor Lady Eleanore. Some sceptics, it is true, might demand +documentary evidence, or even require him to produce the embroidered +mantle, forgetting that—Heaven be praised—it was +<span class='pageno' id='Page_82'>82</span>consumed to ashes. But now the old loyalist, whose blood was +warmed by the good cheer, began to talk, in his turn, about the +traditions of the Province House, and hinted that he, if it were +agreeable, might add a few reminiscences to our legendary stock. +Mr. Tiffany, having no cause to dread a rival, immediately besought +him to favor us with a specimen; my own entreaties, of +course, were urged to the same effect; and our venerable guest, +well pleased to find willing auditors, awaited only the return of +Mr. Thomas Waite, who had been summoned forth to provide +accommodations for several new arrivals. Perchance the public—but +be this as its own caprice and ours shall settle the matter—may +read the result in another Tale of the Province House.</p> + +<div class='figcenter id003'> +<span class='pageno' id='Page_83'>83</span> +<img src='images/i_083.jpg' alt='Old Esther Dudley.' class='ig001' /> +</div> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_85'>85</span> + <h2 class='c005'>IV.<br /> OLD ESTHER DUDLEY.</h2> +</div> + +<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c010'>Our host having resumed the chair, he, as well as Mr. +Tiffany and myself, expressed much eagerness to be +made acquainted with the story to which the loyalist had +alluded. That venerable man first of all saw fit to moisten his +throat with another glass of wine, and then, turning his face +towards our coal fire, looked steadfastly for a few moments into +the depths of its cheerful glow. Finally, he poured forth a great +fluency of speech. The generous liquid that he had imbibed, +while it warmed his age-chilled blood, likewise took off the chill +from his heart and mind, and gave him an energy to think and +feel, which we could hardly have expected to find beneath the +snows of fourscore winters. His feelings, indeed, appeared to +me more excitable than those of a younger man; or, at least, the +same degree of feeling manifested itself by more visible effects +than if his judgment and will had possessed the potency of meridian +life. At the pathetic passages of his narrative, he readily +melted into tears. When a breath of indignation swept across +his spirit, the blood flushed his withered visage even to the roots +of his white hair; and he shook his clinched fist at the trio of +peaceful auditors, seeming to fancy enemies in those who felt +very kindly towards the desolate old soul. But ever and anon, +sometimes in the midst of his most earnest talk, this ancient +person’s intellect would wander vaguely, losing its hold of the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_86'>86</span>matter in hand, and groping for it amid misty shadows. Then +would he cackle forth a feeble laugh, and express a doubt whether +his wits—for by that phrase it pleased our ancient friend to +signify his mental powers—were not getting a little the worse +for wear.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Under these disadvantages, the old loyalist’s story required +more revision to render it fit for the public eye than those of +the series which have preceded it; nor should it be concealed +that the sentiment and tone of the affair may have undergone +some slight, or perchance more than slight metamorphosis, in +its transmission to the reader through the medium of a thoroughgoing +democrat. The tale itself is a mere sketch, with no involution +of plot, nor any great interest of events, yet possessing, +if I have rehearsed it aright, that pensive influence over the +mind, which the shadow of the old Province House flings upon +the loiterer in its courtyard.</p> + +<p class='c008'>The hour had come—the hour of defeat and humiliation—when +Sir William Howe was to pass over the threshold of the +Province House, and embark, with no such triumphal ceremonies +as he once promised himself, on board the British fleet. He +bade his servants and military attendants go before him, and +lingered a moment in the loneliness of the mansion, to quell the +fierce emotions that struggled in his bosom as with a death-throb. +Preferable, then, would he have deemed his fate had a warrior’s +death left him a claim to the narrow territory of a grave, within +the soil which the king had given him to defend. With an +ominous perception that, as his departing footsteps echoed +adown the staircase, the sway of Britain was passing forever +from New England, he smote his clinched hand on his brow, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_87'>87</span>and cursed the destiny that had flung the shame of a dismembered +empire upon him.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Would to God,” cried he, hardly repressing his tears of +rage, “that the rebels were even now at the doorstep! A +blood-stain upon the floor should then bear testimony that the +last British ruler was faithful to his trust.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>The tremulous voice of a woman replied to his exclamation.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Heaven’s cause and the King’s are one,” it said. “Go +forth, Sir William Howe, and trust in Heaven to bring back a +royal governor in triumph.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Subduing at once the passion to which he had yielded only +in the faith that it was unwitnessed, Sir William Howe became +conscious that an aged woman, leaning on a gold-headed staff, +was standing betwixt him and the door. It was old Esther +Dudley, who had dwelt almost immemorial years in this mansion, +until her presence seemed as inseparable from it as the +recollections of its history. She was the daughter of an ancient +and once eminent family, which had fallen into poverty and +decay, and left its last descendant no resource save the bounty +of the king, nor any shelter except within the walls of the +Province House. An office in the household, with merely nominal +duties, had been assigned to her as a pretext for the payment +of a small pension, the greater part of which she expended +in adorning herself with an antique magnificence of attire. The +claims of Esther Dudley’s gentle blood were acknowledged by +all the successive governors; and they treated her with the punctilious +courtesy which it was her foible to demand, not always +with success, from a neglectful world. The only actual share +which she assumed in the business of the mansion was to glide +through its passages and public chambers, late at night, to see +<span class='pageno' id='Page_88'>88</span>that the servants had dropped no fire from their flaring torches, +nor left embers crackling and blazing on the hearths. Perhaps it +was this invariable custom of walking her rounds in the hush of +midnight that caused the superstition of the times to invest the +old woman with attributes of awe and mystery; fabling that she +had entered the portal of the Province House, none knew whence, +in the train of the first royal governor, and that it was her fate to +dwell there till the last should have departed. But Sir William +Howe, if he ever heard this legend, had forgotten it.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Mistress Dudley, why are you loitering here?” asked he, +with some severity of tone. “It is my pleasure to be the last +in this mansion of the king.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Not so, if it please your Excellency,” answered the time-stricken +woman. “This roof has sheltered me long. I will not +pass from it until they bear me to the tomb of my forefathers. +What other shelter is there for old Esther Dudley, save the +Province House or the grave?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now Heaven forgive me!” said Sir William Howe to +himself. “I was about to leave this wretched old creature to +starve or beg. Take this, good Mistress Dudley,” he added, +putting a purse into her hands. “King George’s head on these +golden guineas is sterling yet, and will continue so, I warrant +you, even should the rebels crown John Hancock their king. +That purse will buy a better shelter than the Province House +can now afford.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“While the burden of life remains upon me, I will have no +other shelter than this roof,” persisted Esther Dudley, striking +her staff upon the floor, with a gesture that expressed immovable +resolve. “And when your Excellency returns in triumph, I +will totter into the porch to welcome you.”</p> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<span class='pageno' id='Page_89'>89</span> +<img src='images/i_089.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> +<div class='ic001'> +<p>“Heaven’s cause and the King’s are one”</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_91'>91</span>“My poor old friend!” answered the British General; and +all his manly and martial pride could no longer restrain a gush +of bitter tears. “This is an evil hour for you and me. The +province which the king intrusted to my charge is lost. I go +hence in misfortune—perchance in disgrace—to return no +more. And you, whose present being is incorporated with the +past,—who have seen governor after governor, in stately +pageantry, ascend these steps,—whose whole life has been an +observance of majestic ceremonies, and a worship of the king,—how +will you endure the change? Come with us! Bid farewell +to a land that has shaken off its allegiance, and live still +under a royal government, at Halifax.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Never, never!” said the pertinacious old dame. “Here +will I abide; and King George shall still have one true subject +in his disloyal province.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Beshrew the old fool!” muttered Sir William Howe, +growing impatient of her obstinacy, and ashamed of the emotion +into which he had been betrayed. “She is the very moral +of old-fashioned prejudice, and could exist nowhere but in this +musty edifice. Well, then, Mistress Dudley, since you will +needs tarry, I give the Province House in charge to you. Take +this key, and keep it safe until myself, or some other royal +governor, shall demand it of you.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Smiling bitterly at himself and her, he took the heavy key of +the Province House, and, delivering it into the old lady’s hands, +drew his cloak around him for departure. As the General +glanced back at Esther Dudley’s antique figure, he deemed her +well fitted for such a charge, as being so perfect a representative +of the decayed past,—of an age gone by, with its manners, +opinions, faith, and feelings, all fallen into oblivion or +<span class='pageno' id='Page_92'>92</span>scorn,—of what had once been a reality, but was now merely +a vision of faded magnificence. Then Sir William Howe strode +forth, smiting his clinched hands together, in the fierce anguish +of his spirit; and old Esther Dudley was left to keep watch in +the lonely Province House, dwelling there with memory; and if +Hope ever seemed to flit around her, still it was Memory in +disguise.</p> + +<div class='figcenter id003'> +<img src='images/i_092.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> +<div class='ic001'> +<p>Take this key and keep it safe—</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class='c009'>The total change of affairs that ensued on the departure of +the British troops did not drive the venerable lady from her +stronghold. There was not, for many years afterwards, a governor +of Massachusetts; and the magistrates, who had charge +of such matters, saw no objection to Esther Dudley’s residence +in the Province House, especially as they must otherwise have +<span class='pageno' id='Page_93'>93</span>paid a hireling for taking care of the premises, which with her +was a labor of love. And so they left her, the undisturbed +mistress of the old historic edifice. Many and strange were +the fables which the gossips whispered about her, in all the +chimney-corners of the town. Among the time-worn articles +of furniture that had been left in the mansion, there was a tall, +antique mirror, which was well worthy of a tale by itself, and +perhaps may hereafter be the theme of one. The gold of its +heavily wrought frame was tarnished, and its surface so blurred +that the old woman’s figure, whenever she paused before it, +looked indistinct and ghost-like. But it was the general belief +that Esther could cause the governors of the overthrown +dynasty, with the beautiful ladies who had once adorned their +festivals, the Indian chiefs who had come up to the Province +House to hold council or swear allegiance, the grim provincial +warriors, the severe clergymen,—in short, all the pageantry of +gone days,—all the figures that ever swept across the broad +plate of glass in former times,—she could cause the whole to +re-appear, and people the inner world of the mirror with shadows +of old life. Such legends as these, together with the singularity +of her isolated existence, her age, and the infirmity that each +added winter flung upon her, made Mistress Dudley the object +both of fear and pity; and it was partly the result of either +sentiment that, amid all the angry license of the times, neither +wrong nor insult ever fell upon her unprotected head. Indeed, +there was so much haughtiness in her demeanor towards intruders, +among whom she reckoned all persons acting under the +new authorities, that it was really an affair of no small nerve to +look her in the face. And to do the people justice, stern +republicans as they had now become, they were well content +<span class='pageno' id='Page_94'>94</span>that the old gentlewoman, in her hoop petticoat and faded +embroidery, should still haunt the palace of ruined pride and +overthrown power, the symbol of a departed system, embodying +a history in her person. So Esther Dudley dwelt, year after +year, in the Province House, still reverencing all that others +had flung aside, still faithful to her king, who, so long as the +venerable dame yet held her post, might be said to retain one +true subject in New England, and one spot of the empire that +had been wrested from him.</p> + +<p class='c009'>And did she dwell there in utter loneliness? Rumor said, +not so. Whenever her chill and withered heart desired warmth, +she was wont to summon a black slave of Governor Shirley’s +from the blurred mirror, and send him in search of guests who +had long ago been familiar in those deserted chambers. Forth +went the sable messenger, with the starlight or the moonshine +gleaming through him, and did his errand in the burial-ground, +knocking at the iron doors of tombs, or upon the marble slabs +that covered them, and whispering to those within, “My mistress, +old Esther Dudley, bids you to the Province House at +midnight.” And punctually as the clock of the Old South told +twelve came the shadows of the Olivers, the Hutchinsons, the +Dudleys, all the grandees of a bygone generation, gliding +beneath the portal into the well-known mansion, where Esther +mingled with them as if she likewise were a shade. Without +vouching for the truth of such traditions, it is certain that Mistress +Dudley sometimes assembled a few of the stanch, though +crestfallen old Tories who had lingered in the rebel town during +those days of wrath and tribulation. Out of a cobwebbed +bottle, containing liquor that a royal governor might have +smacked his lips over, they quaffed healths to the king, and +babbled treason to the Republic, feeling as if the protecting +shadow of the throne were still flung around them. But, draining +the last drops of their liquor, they stole timorously homeward, +and answered not again if the rude mob reviled them in +the street.</p> + +<div class='figcenter id003'> +<span class='pageno' id='Page_95'>95</span> +<img src='images/i_095.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> +<div class='ic001'> +<p>A few of the stanch, though crestfallen, old Tories</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_97'>97</span>Yet Esther Dudley’s most frequent and favored guests were +the children of the town. Towards them she was never stern. +A kindly and loving nature, hindered elsewhere from its free +course by a thousand rocky prejudices, lavished itself upon these +little ones. By bribes of gingerbread of her own making, stamped +with a royal crown, she tempted their sunny sportiveness beneath +the gloomy portal of the Province House, and would often beguile +them to spend a whole play-day there, sitting in a circle +round the verge of her hoop petticoat, greedily attentive to her +stories of a dead world. And when these little boys and girls +stole forth again from the dark, mysterious mansion, they went +bewildered, full of old feelings that graver people had long ago +forgotten, rubbing their eyes at the world around them as if they +had gone astray into ancient times, and become children of the +past. At home, when their parents asked where they had loitered +such a weary while, and with whom they had been at play, +the children would talk of all the departed worthies of the province, +as far back as Governor Belcher, and the haughty dame of Sir +William Phipps. It would seem as though they had been sitting +on the knees of these famous personages, whom the grave had +hidden for half a century, and had toyed with the embroidery of +their rich waistcoats, or roguishly pulled the long curls of their +flowing wigs. “But Governor Belcher has been dead this many +a year,” would the mother say to her little boy. “And did you +really see him at the Province House?” “Oh, yes, dear mother! +<span class='pageno' id='Page_98'>98</span>yes!” the half-dreaming child would answer. “But when old +Esther had done speaking about him he faded away out of his +chair.” Thus, without affrighting her little guests, she led them +by the hand into the chambers of her own desolate heart, and +made childhood’s fancy discern the ghosts that haunted there.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Living so continually in her own circle of ideas, and never +regulating her mind by a proper reference to present things, +Esther Dudley appears to have grown partially crazed. It was +found that she had no right sense of the progress and true state +of the Revolutionary War, but held a constant faith that the +armies of Britain were victorious on every field, and destined to +be ultimately triumphant. Whenever the town rejoiced for a +battle won by Washington, or Gates, or Morgan, or Greene, the +news, in passing through the door of the Province House, as +through the ivory gate of dreams, became metamorphosed into +a strange tale of the prowess of Howe, Clinton, or Cornwallis. +Sooner or later, it was her invincible belief, the colonies would +be prostrate at the footstool of the king. Sometimes she seemed +to take for granted that such was already the case. On one +occasion she startled the townspeople by a brilliant illumination +of the Province House, with candles at every pane of glass, and +a transparency of the king’s initials and a crown of light in the +great balcony window. The figure of the aged woman, in the +most gorgeous of her mildewed velvets and brocades, was seen +passing from casement to casement, until she paused before the +balcony, and flourished a huge key above her head. Her +wrinkled visage actually gleamed with triumph, as if the soul +within her were a festal lamp.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“What means this blaze of light? What does old Esther’s +joy portend?” whispered a spectator. “It is frightful to see her +<span class='pageno' id='Page_99'>99</span>gliding about the chambers, and rejoicing there without a soul +to bear her company.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“It is as if she were making merry in a tomb,” said another.</p> + +<div class='figright id006'> +<img src='images/i_099.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> +<div class='ic001'> +<p>The King of England’s birthday—</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class='c009'>“Pshaw! It is no such mystery,” observed an old man, +after some brief exercise +of memory. “Mistress +Dudley is keeping jubilee +for the King of England’s +birthday.” Then the people +laughed aloud, and +would have thrown mud +against the blazing transparency +of the king’s +crown and initials, only +that they pitied the poor +old dame, who was so dismally +triumphant amid the +wreck and ruin of the system +to which she appertained.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Oftentimes it was her +custom to climb the weary +staircase that wound upward +to the cupola, and +thence strain her dimmed +eyesight seaward and countryward, watching for a British fleet, +or for the march of a grand procession, with the king’s banner +floating over it. The passengers in the street below would +discern her anxious visage, and send up a shout, “When the +golden Indian on the Province House shall shoot his arrow, and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_100'>100</span>when the cock on the Old South spire shall crow, then look for +a royal governor again!”—for this had grown a byword through +the town. And at last, after long, long years, old Esther Dudley +knew, or perchance she only dreamed, that a royal governor +was on the eve of returning to the Province House, to receive +the heavy key which Sir William Howe had committed to her +charge. Now it was the fact that intelligence bearing some +faint analogy to Esther’s version of it was current among the +townspeople. She set the mansion in the best order that her +means allowed, and, arraying herself in silks and tarnished gold, +stood long before the blurred mirror to admire her own magnificence. +As she gazed, the gray and withered lady moved her +ashen lips, murmuring half aloud, talking to shapes that she saw +within the mirror, to shadows of her own fantasies, to the household +friends of memory, and bidding them rejoice with her, and +come forth to meet the governor. And, while absorbed in this +communion, Mistress Dudley heard the tramp of many footsteps +in the street, and, looking out at the window, beheld what she +construed as the royal governor’s arrival.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“O happy day! O blessed, blessed hour!” she exclaimed. +“Let me but bid him welcome within the portal, and my task +in the Province House, and on earth, is done!”</p> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_101fp.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> +<div class='ic001'> +<p><span class='color_red'>“Receive my Trust.”</span></p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_101'>101</span>Then with tottering feet, which age and tremulous joy caused +to tread amiss, she hurried down the grand staircase, her silks +sweeping and rustling as she went, so that the sound was as if +a train of spectral courtiers were thronging from the dim mirror. +And Esther Dudley fancied that, as soon as the wide door should +be flung open, all the pomp and splendor of bygone times would +pace majestically into the Province House, and the gilded tapestry +of the past would be brightened by the sunshine of the +present. She turned the key,—withdrew it from the lock,—unclosed +the door,—and stepped across the threshold. Advancing +up the courtyard appeared a person of most dignified mien, +with tokens, as Esther interpreted them, of gentle blood, high +rank, and long-accustomed authority, even in his walk and every +gesture. He was richly dressed, but wore a gouty shoe, which, +however, did not lessen the stateliness of his gait. Around and +behind him were people in plain civic dresses, and two or three +war-worn veterans, evidently officers of rank, arrayed in a uniform +of blue and buff. But Esther Dudley, firm in the belief +that had fastened its roots about her heart, beheld only the +principal personage, and never doubted that this was the long-looked-for +governor, to whom she was to surrender up her +charge. As he approached, she involuntarily sank down on her +knees, and tremblingly held forth the heavy key.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Receive my trust! take it quickly!” cried she; “for methinks +Death is striving to snatch away my triumph. But he +comes too late. Thank Heaven for this blessed hour! God +save King George!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“That, madam, is a strange prayer to be offered up at such +a moment,” replied the unknown guest of the Province House, +and, courteously removing his hat, he offered his arm to raise +the aged woman. “Yet, in reverence for your gray hairs and +long-kept faith, Heaven forbid that any here should say you +nay. Over the realms which still acknowledge his sceptre, God +save King George!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Esther Dudley started to her feet, and, hastily clutching +back the key, gazed with fearful earnestness at the stranger; +and dimly and doubtfully, as if suddenly awakened from a +dream, her bewildered eyes half recognized his face. Years +<span class='pageno' id='Page_102'>102</span>ago, she had known him among the gentry of the province. +But the ban of the king had fallen upon him! How, then, +came the doomed victim here? Proscribed, excluded from +mercy, the monarch’s most dreaded and hated foe, this New +England merchant had stood triumphantly against a kingdom’s +strength; and his foot now trod upon humbled royalty, as he +ascended the steps of the Province House, the people’s chosen +governor of Massachusetts.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Wretch, wretch that I am!” muttered the old woman, +with such a heart-broken expression that the tears gushed from +the stranger’s eyes. “Have I bidden a traitor welcome? Come, +Death! come quickly!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Alas, venerable lady!” said Governor Hancock, lending +her his support with all the reverence that a courtier would have +shown to a queen. “Your life has been prolonged until the +world has changed around you. You have treasured up all that +time has rendered worthless,—the principles, feelings, manners, +modes of being and acting, which another generation has +flung aside,—and you are a symbol of the past. And I, and +these around me,—we represent a new race of men,—living +no longer in the past, scarcely in the present,—but projecting +our lives forward into the future. Ceasing to model ourselves +on ancestral superstitions, it is our faith and principle to press +onward, onward! Yet,” continued he, turning to his attendants, +“let us reverence, for the last time, the stately and gorgeous +prejudices of the tottering Past!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>While the republican governor spoke, he had continued to +support the helpless form of Esther Dudley; her weight grew +heavier against his arm; but at last, with a sudden effort to free +herself, the ancient woman sank down beside one of the pillars +<span class='pageno' id='Page_103'>103</span>of the portal. The key of the Province House fell from her +grasp, and clanked against the stone.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I have been faithful unto death,” murmured she. “God +save the king!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“She hath done her office!” said Hancock solemnly. +“We will follow her reverently to the tomb of her ancestors; +and then, my fellow-citizens, onward,—onward! We are no +longer children of the Past!”</p> + +<p class='c008'>As the old loyalist concluded his narrative, the enthusiasm +which had been fitfully flashing within his sunken eyes, and +quivering across his wrinkled visage, faded away, as if all the +lingering fire of his soul were extinguished. Just then, too, a +lamp upon the mantel-piece threw out a dying gleam, which +vanished as speedily as it shot upward, compelling our eyes to +grope for one another’s features by the dim glow of the hearth. +With such a lingering fire, methought, with such a dying gleam, +had the glory of the ancient system vanished from the Province +House, when the spirit of old Esther Dudley took its flight. +And now, again, the clock of the Old South threw its voice +of ages on the breeze, knolling the hourly knell of the Past, +crying out far and wide through the multitudinous city, and +filling our ears, as we sat in the dusky chamber, with its reverberating +depth of tone. In that same mansion,—in that very +chamber,—what a volume of history had been told off into +hours, by the same voice that was now trembling in the air. +Many a governor had heard those midnight accents, and longed +to exchange his stately cares for slumber. And as for mine +host, and Mr. Bela Tiffany, and the old loyalist, and me, we +had babbled about dreams of the past, until we almost fancied +<span class='pageno' id='Page_104'>104</span>that the clock was still striking in a bygone century. Neither +of us would have wondered had a hoop-petticoated phantom of +Esther Dudley tottered into the chamber, walking her rounds +in the hush of midnight, as of yore, and motioned us to +quench the fading embers of the fire, and leave the historic +precincts to herself and her kindred shades. But, as no such +vision was vouchsafed, I retired unbidden, and would advise Mr. +Tiffany to lay hold of another auditor, being resolved not to +show my face in the Province House for a good while hence,—if +ever.</p> + +<div class='figcenter id003'> +<img src='images/i_104.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> +<div class='ic001'> +<p>Faithful unto death</p> +</div> +</div> + +<div class='pbb'> + <hr class='pb c004' /> +</div> +<div class='tnotes'> + +<div class='section ph2'> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c001'> + <div>TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES</div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + + <ol class='ol_1 c003'> + <li>Silently corrected typographical errors and variations in spelling. + + </li> + <li>Archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings retained as printed. + </li> + </ol> + +</div> + +<div style='margin-top:1.5em;margin-bottom:1em;'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG BOOK OF IN COLONIAL DAYS ***</div> + +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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