Chapter VII: Part 7

Business was suspended, about town. After dark, the effigy was borne, by the mob, to a building, which was supposed to have been erected, as a stamp-office. This they destroyed, and, bearing the fragments to Fort Hill, where Mr. Oliver lived, they made a bonfire, and burnt the effigy before his door. They next drove him and his family from his house, broke the windows and fences, and stoned the Lieutenant Governor and Sheriff, when they came to parley--all this, upon the night of August 14, 1765. On the 26th, they destroyed the house of Mr. Story, register-deputy of the Admiralty, and burnt the books and records of the court. They then served the house of Mr. Hollowell, Contractor of the Customs, in a similar manner, plundering and carrying away money and chattels. They next proceeded to the residence of the Lieutenant Governor, and destroyed every article not easily transported, doing irreparable mischief, by the destruction of many valuable manuscripts. The next day, a town meeting was held, and the citizens expressed their _detestation of the riots_--and, afterwards manifested their silent sympathy with the mob, by punishing nobody.

Nov. 1, 1765, the day, when the stamp act came into force, the bells were muffled and tolled; the shipping displayed their colors, at half mast; the stamp act was printed, with a death's head, in the place of the stamp, and cried about the streets, under the name of the FOLLY OF ENGLAND, AND THE RUIN OF AMERICA. A new political journal appeared, having for its emblem, or political phylactery, a serpent, cut into pieces, each piece bearing the initials of a colony, with the ominous motto--JOIN OR DIE. More effigies were hung, upon "_the large old elm_," as Gordon terms it--LIBERTY TREE. They were then cut down, and escorted over town. They were brought back, and hung up again; taken down again; escorted to the Neck, by an immense concourse; hanged upon the gallows tree; taken down once more; and torn into innumerable fragments. Three cheers were then given, and, upon a request to that effect, every man went quietly home; and a night of unusual stillness ensued.

Hearing that Mr. Oliver intended to resume his office, he was required, through the newspaper, by an anonymous writer, to acknowledge, or deny, the truth of that report. His answer proving unsatisfactory, he received a requisition, Nov. 16th, to appear "_tomorrow, under_ LIBERTY TREE, _to make a public resignation_." Two thousand persons gathered then, beneath that TREE--not the rabble, but the selectmen, the merchants, and chief inhabitants. Mr. Oliver requested, that the meeting might be held, in the town house; but the SONS OF LIBERTY seemed resolved, that he should be _treed_--no place, under the canopy of Heaven, would answer, but LIBERTY TREE. Mr. Oliver came; subscribed an ample declaration; and made oath to it, before Richard Dana, J. P. This exactitude and circumspection, on the part of the people, was not a work of supererogation: Andrew Oliver was a most amiable man, in private, but a most lubricious hypocrite, in public life; as appears by his famous letters, sent home by Dr. Franklin, in 1772. After his declaration under the TREE, he made a short speech, expressive of his "_utter detestation of the stamp act_." What a spectacle was there and then! The best and the boldest were there. Samuel Adams and John--Jerry Gridley, Samuel Sewall, and John Hancock, _et id genus omne_ were in Boston then, and the busiest men alive: their absence would have been marked--they must have been there. What an act of daring, thus to defy the monarch and his vicegerents! I paused, this very day, and gazed upon the spot, and put the steam upon my imagination, to conjure, into life and action, that little band of sterling patriots, gathered around; and that noble elm in their midst:--

"In medio ramos annosaque brachia pandit
Ulmus opaca, ingens."

Thenceforward, the SONS OF LIBERTY seem to have taken the TREE, under their special protection. On Valentine's day, 1776, they assembled, and passed a vote, that _it should be pruned after the best manner_. It is well, certainly, now and then, to lop off some rank, disorderly shoots of licentiousness, that will sometimes appear, upon LIBERTY TREE. It was pruned, accordingly, by a party of volunteer carpenters, under the direction of a gentleman of skill and judgment, in such matters.

News of the repeal of the stamp act arrived in Boston, May 16, 1766. The bells rang merrily--and the cannon were unlimbered, around LIBERTY TREE, and bellowed for joy. The TREE, so skilfully pruned, in February, must have presented a beautiful appearance, bourgeoning forth, in the middle of May! The nineteenth of May was appointed, for a merrymaking. At one, in the morning, the bell of the Hollis Street Church, says a zealous writer of that day, "_began to ring_"--_sua sponte_, no doubt. The slumbers of the pastor, Dr. Byles, were disturbed, of course, for he was a tory, though a very pleasant tory, after all. Christ Church replied, with its royal peal, from the North, and _God save the king_, rang pleasantly again, in colonial ears. The universal joy was expressed, in all those unphilosophical ways, enumerated by Pope,

With gun, drum, trumpet, blunderbuss and thunder.

LIBERTY TREE was hung with various colors. Fireworks and illuminations succeeded. Gov. Hancock treated the people with "_a pipe of Madeira_;" and the SONS OF LIBERTY raised a pyramid, upon the Common, with two hundred and eighty lamps. At twelve o'clock--midnight--a drum, upon the Common, beat the _tattoo_; and men, women, and children retired to their homes, in the most perfect order: verily, a soberness had come over the spirit of their dreams, and method into their madness. On the evening of the twentieth of May, it was resolved to have a festival of lanterns.

The inhabitants vied with each other; and, about dusk, they were seen streaming, from all quarters, to HANOVER SQUARE, every man and boy with his lamp or lantern. In a brief space, LIBERTY TREE was converted into a brilliant constellation. Like the sparkling waters, during the burning of Ucalegon's palace, described by Homer, the boughs, the branches, the veriest twigs of this popular idol

--------"were bright,
With splendors not their own, and shone with sparkling light."

It appears, by the journals of that day, from which most of these particulars are gathered, that our fathers--what inimitable, top-gallant fellows they were!--took a pleasant fancy into their heads, that these lamps would shed a brighter lustre, if the poor debtors, in jail, could join in the general joy, under LIBERTY TREE. Accordingly they made up a purse and paid the debts of them all! There was a general jail delivery of the poor debtors, for very joy. Well: a Boston boy, of the old school, was a noble animal--how easily held by the heart-strings!--with how much difficulty, by the head or the tail!

An antiquarian friend, to whom I am already under sundry obligations, has obligingly loaned me an interesting document, in connection with the subject of LIBERTY TREE; under whose shade I propose to linger a little longer.

No. XLII.

March 22, 1765. George III. and his ministers took it into their heads to sow the wind; and, in an almost inconceivably short time, they reaped the whirlwind. They scattered dragons' teeth, and there came up armed men. They planted the stamp act, in the Colonial soil, and there sprang into life, mature and full of vigor, the LIBERTY TREE, like Minerva, fully developed, and in perfect armor, from the brain of Jupiter. Whoever would find a clear, succinct, and impartial account of the effect of the stamp act, upon the people of New England, may resort to Dodsley's Annual Register, page 49, of that memorable year. "The sun of liberty has set," wrote Franklin home, "but you must light up the candles of industry and economy."

The life of that act of oppression was short and stormy. March 18, 1766, its miserable requiem was sung in Parliament--"an event," says the Annual Register, of that year, page 46, "that caused more universal joy, throughout the British dominions, than, perhaps, any other, that can be remembered." How such a viper ever found its way into the cradle of liberty is quite a marvel--certain it is, the genius of freedom, with the power of Hercules, speedily strangled it there.

In America, and, especially, in Boston, the joy, as I have already stated, was very great; and some there were, beyond all doubt, who were delighted, to find an apology, for going back to monarchical usages. Even liberty may be, sometimes, irksome, at first, to him, who has long lived a slave; and it is no small grievance, I dare say, to such, to be deprived of the luxury of calling some one, Lord and Master, after the flesh. However monstrous, and even ridiculous, the idea of a king may seem to us, republicans, born in this wonderfully bracing atmosphere--there are some, who have a strong taste for _booing_ and genuflection, and the doffing of beavers, and throwing up of "greasy caps," and rending their throats, for very ecstacy, when the royal coach is coming along, bearing the heir apparent, in diapers. This taste, I suppose, like that for olives, must be acquired; it cannot be natural.

May 19, and 20, 1766, the face of the town of Boston was dressed in smiles--a broad grin rather, from ear to ear, from Winnisimmet to Roxbury. Nothing was talked of but "_a grateful people_," and "_the darling monarch_"--which amounts to this--the "_darling monarch_" had graciously desisted, from grinding their faces any longer, simply because he was convinced, that the "_grateful people_" would kick the grindstone over, and peradventure the grinder, should the "_darling_" attempt to give it another turn.

Under LIBERTY TREE, there was erected, during the rejoicings, an obelisk with four sides. An engraving of those four sides was made at the time, and is now, doubtless, very rare. A copy, loaned me by the friend, to whom I referred, in my last number, is lying before me. I present it, _verbatim, literatim, et punctuatim_.

It is thirteen and an half inches long, and nine and an half wide. On top are these words--"A VIEW of the OBELISK erected under LIBERTY TREE in BOSTON on the Rejoicings for the Repeal of the ---- Stamp Act 1766." At the bottom--"To every Lover of LIBERTY this Plate is humbly dedicated by her true born SONS in BOSTON, New England." The plate presents, apparently, four obelisks, which are, in reality, the four sides of one. Every side, above the base, is divided horizontally, and nearly equally, into three parts. The superior division of each contains four heads, many of which may be readily recognized, and all of which have indicating letters. The middle division of each contains ten decasyllabic lines. The inferior division of each contains a sketch, of rude execution, and rather more patriotic, than tasteful, in the design. The principal portraits are of George III.; Queen Charlotte; Marquis of Rockingham; Duke of York; Gen. Conway; Lord Townshend; Colonel Barre; W. Pitt; Lord Dartmouth; Charles Townshend; Lord George Sackville; John Wilkes; Alderman Beckford; Lord Camden; &c. The first side is subscribed thus: "_America in distress, apprehending the total loss of_ LIBERTY;" and is inscribed thus:

Oh thou, whom next to Heaven we most revere
Fair LIBERTY! thou lovely Goddess hear!
Have we not woo'd thee, won thee, held thee long,
Lain in thy Lap and melted on thy tongue.
Thro' Deaths and Dangers rugged paths pursu'd
And led thee smiling to this SOLITUDE,
Hid thee within our hearts' most golden cell
And brav'd the Powers of Earth and Powers of Hell,
GODDESS! we cannot part, thou must not fly,
Be SLAVES! we dare to scorn it, dare to die.

Beneath is the sketch--America recumbent and dejected, in the form of an Indian chief, under a pine tree, the angel of Liberty hovering over; the Prime minister advancing with a chain, followed by one of the bishops, and others, Bute clearly designated by his Scotch plaid, and gaiters; over head, flying towards the Indian, with the stamp act in his right claw, is the Devil; of whom it is manifest our patriotic sires had a very clever conception.

The second side is subscribed thus: "_She implores the aid of her patrons_;" and is inscribed thus:

While clanking chains and curses shall salute
Thine Ears remorseless G----le, and thine O B----e,
To you blest PATRIOTS, we our cause submit,
Illustrious CAMPDEN, Britain's Guardian, PITT.
Recede not, frown not, rather let us be
Deprived of being than of LIBERTY,
Let fraud or malice blacken all our crimes,
No disaffection stains these peaceful climes.
Oh save us, shield us from impending woes,
The foes of Britain only are our foes.

Beneath is the sketch--America, on one knee, pointing over her shoulder towards a retreating group, composed, as the chain and the plaid inform us, of the Prime Minister Bute, and company, upon whose heads a thunder cloud is bursting. At the same time America--the Indian, as before--supplicates the aid of others, whose leader is being crowned, by Fame, with a laurel wreath. The enormous nose--a great help to identification--marks the Earl of Chatham; Camden may be known by his wig; and Barre by his military air.

The third side is subscribed thus: "_She endures the Conflict, for a short Season_" and is inscribed thus:

Boast foul Oppression, boast thy transient Reign,
While honest FREEDOM struggles with her Chain,
But know the Sons of Virtue, hardy, brave,
Disclaim to lose thro' mean Dispair to save;
Arrowed in Thunder awfull they appear,
With proud Deliverance stalking in their Rear,
While Tyrant Foes their pallid Fears betray,
Shrink from their Arms, and give their Vengeance way.
See in the unequal War OPPRESSORS fall,
The hate, contempt, and endless Curse of all.

Beneath is the sketch--THE TREE OF LIBERTY, with an eagle feeding its young, in the topmost branches, and an angel advancing with an aegis.

The fourth side is subscribed thus: "_And has her_ LIBERTY _restored by the Royal hand of_ GEORGE _the Third_;" and is inscribed thus:

Our FAITH approv'd, our LIBERTY restor'd,
Our Hearts bend grateful to our sov'reign Lord;
Hail darling Monarch! by this act endear'd,
Our firm affections are thy best reward--
Sh'd Britain's self against herself divide,
And hostile Armies frown on either side;
Sh'd hosts rebellious shake our Brunswick's Throne,
And as they dar'd thy Parent dare the Son.
To this Asylum stretch thine happy Wing,
And we'll contend who best shall love our KING.

Beneath is the sketch--George the Third, in armor, resembling a Dutch widow, in a long-short, introducing America to the goddess of liberty, who are, apparently, just commencing the Polka--at the bottom of the engraving are the words--_Paul Revere Sculp._ Our ancestors dealt rather in fact than fiction--they were no poets.

Gordon refers to LIBERTY TREE, i. 175.

The fame of LIBERTY TREE spread far beyond its branches. Not long before it was cut down, by the British soldiers, during the winter of 1775-6, an English gentleman, Philip Billes, residing at Backway, near Cambridge, England, died, seized of a considerable fortune, which he bequeathed to two gentlemen, not relatives, on condition, that they would faithfully execute a provision, set forth in his will, namely, that his body should be buried, under the shadow of LIBERTY TREE, in Boston, New England. This curious statement was published in England, June 3, 1774, and may be found in the Boston Evening Gazette, first page, Aug. 22, 1774, printed by Thomas & John Fleet, sign of the Heart and Crown, Cornhill.

No. XLIII.

Josiah Carter died, at the close of December, 1774. Never was there a happier occasion, for citing the _Quis desiderio_, &c., and I would cite that fine ode, were it not worn threadbare, like an old coverlet, by having been, immemorially, thrown over all manner of corpses, from the cobbler's to the king's.

If good old Dr. Charles Chauncy were within hearing, I would, indeed, apply to him a portion of its noble passages:

Multis ille bonis flebilis occidit,
Nulli flebilior quam tibi----.

For good Josiah many wept, I fancy;
But none more fluently than Dr. Chauncy.

Josiah Carter was sexton of the Old Brick. He died, in the prime of life--fifty only--a martyr to his profession--conscientious to a fault--standing all alone in the cold vault, after the last mourner had retired, and knocking gently upon the coffin lid, seeking for some little sign of animation, and begging the corpse, for Heaven's sake, if it were alive, to say so, in good English.

Carter was one of your real _integer vitae_ men. It is said of him, that he never actually lost his self-government, but once, in his life.

He was finishing a grave, in the Granary yard, and had come out of the pit, and was looking at his work, when a young, surgical sprig came up, and, with something of a mysterious air, shadowed forth a proposition, the substance of which was, that Carter should sell him the corpse--cover it lightly--and aid in removing it, by night. In an instant, Carter jerked the little chirurgeon into the grave--it was a deep one--and began to fill up, with all his might. The screams of the little fellow drew quite a number to the spot, and he was speedily rescued. When interrogated, years afterwards, as to his real intentions, at the time, Carter always became solemnized; and said he considered the preservation of that young doctor--a particular Providence.

Carter had a strong aversion to unburying--so have I--especially a hatchet. I have a rooted hatred of slavery; and I hope our friends, on the sunny side of Mason's and Dixon's line, will not censure me, for digging up the graves of the past, and exposing unsightly relics, while I solicit the world's attention to the following literary _bijoux_.

To be sold, a young negro fellow, fit for country or other business.--Will be sold to the highest bidder, a very good gold watch, a negro boy, &c.--Cheap, for cash, a negro man, and woman, and two children.--A very likely negro wench, about 16 years of age.--A likely negro woman, about 30, cheap for cash.--A likely negro boy, about 13.--Sold only for want of employ, a healthy, tractable negro girl, about 18 years of age.--To be sold, for want of employ, a strong, hearty negro fellow, about 25 years of age.--Ran away, a negro, named Dick, a well-looking, well-shaped fellow, right negro, little on the yellow, &c.--A likely negro woman, about 33 years old, remarkable for honesty and good temper.--Grant Webster has for sale new and second hand chaises, rum, wines, and male and female negroes.--At auction, a negro woman that is used to most sorts of house business.--A likely, healthy negro man, a good cook, and can drive a carriage.--Ran away, a negro man, named Prince, a tall, straight fellow; he is about 33 years old, talks pretty good English; his design was to get off in some vessel, so as to go to England, under the notion, if he could get there, he should be free, &c.--Ten dollars reward: ran away, negro Primus, five feet ten inches high, long limbs, very long finger nails, &c.--To be sold, for no fault, a negro man, of good temper.--A valuable negro man.--Ran away, my negro, Cromarte, commonly called Crum, &c., &c.; whoever will return said runaway to me, or secure him in some public jail, &c.--The cash will be given for a negro boy of good temper.--A fine negro male child, to be given away.--To be sold, a Spanish Indian woman, about 21 years old, also a negro child, about two years old. To be sold, a strong, hearty negro girl, and her son, about a week old.--Ran away, my negro man, Samson; when he speaks has a leering look under his eyes; whoever will return him, or secure him in any of the jails, shall receive ten dollars reward. For sale, a likely negro man; has had the smallpox.--A likely negro boy, large for his age, about 13.--To be sold, very reasonably, a likely negro woman, about 33 or '4 years of age.--To be sold or hired, for a number of years, a strong, healthy, honest, negro girl, about 16 years of age.

Ah, my dear, indignant reader, I marvel not, that you are grieved and shocked, that man should dare, directly under the eye of God, to offer his fellow for sale, as he would offer a side of mutton, or a slaughtered hog--that he should offer to sell him, from head to heel, liver and lights, and lungs, and heart, and bone, and muscle, and presume to convey over, to the buyer, the very will of the poor black man, for years, and for aye; so that the miserable creature should never draw in one single breath of freedom, but breathe the breath of a slave forever and ever. This is very damnable indeed--very. You read the advertisements, which I have paraded before you, with a sentiment of disgust towards the men of the South--_nimium ne crede colori_. These are northern negroes! these are northern advertisements!

--------Mutato nomine, de te
Fabula narratur--------.

Every one of these slaves was owned in Boston: every one of these advertisements was published in the Boston Gazette, and the two last on December 10, 1781. They are taken from one only of the public journals, and are a very Flemish sample of the whole cloth, which may be examined by him, who has leisure to turn over the several papers, then published here.

There is one, however, so awfully ridiculous, when we consider the profession of the deceased owner, and the place of sale, and which, in these connections, presents such an example of _sacra, commixta profanis_, that I must give the advertisement without defalcation. John Moorhead, the first minister of Bury, afterwards Berry Street Church, died Dec. 2, 1773. About a year after, his effects were sold, and the following advertisement appears, in the Boston Gazette, Jan. 2, 1775: "To be sold by Public Auction, on Thursday next, at ten o'clock in the Forenoon, all the Household Furniture, belonging to the Estate of the Rev. Mr. John Moorhead, deceased, consisting of Tables, Chairs, Looking Glasses, Feather Beds, Bedsteads and Bedding, Pewter, Brass, sundry Pieces of Plate, &c., &c. A valuable collection of Books--Also a likely Negro Lad--The sale to be at the House in Auchmuty's Lane, South End, not far from Liberty Tree."--Moses and the Prophets! _A human being to be sold as a_ SLAVE, _not far from_ LIBERTY TREE, in 1775!

Let me be clearly comprehended. Two wrongs cannot, like two negatives, neutralize each other. It is true, there was slavery in Massachusetts, and probably more of it, than is supposed to have existed, by many of the present generation. Free negroes were not numerous, in Boston, in those years. In the Boston Gazette of Jan. 2, 1775, it is stated, that 547 whites and 52 blacks were buried in the town in 1774; and 533 whites and 62 blacks in 1773. Such was the proportion then.

The energy of our northern constitution has exorcised the evil spirit of slavery. Common sense and the grace of God put it into the minds and hearts of our fathers, when the accursed _Bohun Upas_ was a sapling, to pull it up, by the roots. It follows not, therefore, that the people of the South are entitled to be treated by us, their brethren, like _outside barbarians_, because they do not cast it out from their midst, as promptly, and as easily, now that it has stricken down its roots into the bowels of the earth, and become a colossus, and overshadowed the land. Slavery, being the abomination that it is, in the abstract, and in the relative, we may well regret, that it ever defiled our peninsula; especially that a slave market, for the sale of one slave only, ever existed, "_not far from Liberty Tree_." In sober truth, we are not quite justified, for railing at the South, as we have done. The sins of our dear, old fathers are still so comparatively recent, in regard to slavery, that I am absolutely afraid to fire canister and grape, among the group of offenders, lest I should disturb the ashes of my ancestors. Neither may we forget, that we, of the North, consented, aided and abetted, constitutionally, in the confirmation of slavery. Some of the most furious of the abolitionists, in this fair city, are _descendants in the right line, from Boston slaveholders_--their fathers did not recognize the sinfulness of holding slaves!

The people of the South are entitled to civility, from the people of the North, because they are citizens of one common country; and, if there is one village, town, or city of these United States, that, more than any and all others, is under solemn obligations to cherish a sentiment of grateful and affectionate respect for the South, it is the city of Boston. I propose to refresh the reader's recollection, in my next.

No. XLIV.

_Delenda est Carthago--abolendum est servitium._--No doubt of it; slavery must be buried--decently, however. I cannot endure rudeness and violence, at a funeral. John Cades, in Charter Street, lost his place, in 1789, for letting old Goody Smith go by the run. The _naufragium_ of Erasmus, was nothing at all, compared with that of the old lady's coffin. Our Southern confederates are entitled to _civility_, because they are men and brethren; and they are entitled to _kindness and courtesy from us, of Boston_, because we owe them a debt of gratitude, which it would be shameful to forget. Since we, of the North, have presumed to be _undertakers_ upon this occasion, let us do the thing "_decenter et ornate_." Besides, our friends of the South are notoriously testy and hot-headed: they are, geographically, children of the sun. John Smith's description of the Massachusetts Indians, in 1614, Richmond ed., ii. 194, is truly applicable to the Southern people, "_very kind, but, in their fury, no less valiant_."

I am no more inclined to uphold the South, in the continued practice of a moral wrong, because they gave us bread when we were hungry, as they certainly did, than was Sir Matthew Hale, to decide favorably for the suitor, who sent him the fat buck. _Nullum simile quatuor pedibus currit_--the South, when they bestowed their kindness upon us, during the operation of the _Boston Port Bill_, had no possible favor to ask, in return.

This famous Port Bill, which operated like _guano_ upon LIBERTY TREE, and caused it to send forth a multitude of new and vigorous shoots, was an act of revenge and coercion, passed March 31, 1774, by the British Parliament.

No government was ever so _penny wise_ and _pound foolish_, as that of Great Britain, in 1773-'4. They actually sacrificed thirteen fine, flourishing colonies for _three pence_! In 1773 the East India Company, suffering from the bad effects of the smuggling trade, in the colonies, all taxation having been withdrawn, by Great Britain, excepting on tea, proposed, for the purpose of quieting the strife, to sell their tea, free of all duties, in the Colonies, and that sixpence a pound should be retained by the Government, on exportation. But the Government insisted upon _three pence_ worth of dignity; in other words, for the honor of the Crown, they resolved, that the colonists _should pay three pence_ a pound, import duty. This was a very poor bargain--a _crown_ for _three pence_! Well; I have no room for detail--the tea came; some of it went back again; and the balance was tossed into the sea. It was not suffered to be landed, at Philadelphia and New York. Seventeen chests, brought to New York, on private account, says Gordon, vol. i. page 333, were thrown overboard, Nov. 18, 1773, and combustibles were prepared to burn the ships, if they came up from the Hook. Dec. 16, 1773, three hundred and twenty-four chests of tea were broken open, on board the ships, in Boston, and their contents thrown into the salt water, by a "number of persons," says Gordon, vol. i. page 341, "chiefly masters of vessels and shipbuilders from the north end of the town," dressed as Indians.

In consequence of this, the _Port Bill_ was passed. The object of this bill was to beggar--commercially to neutralize or nullify--the town of Boston, by shutting the port, and cutting off all import and export, by sea, until full compensation should be made, for the tea destroyed, and to the officers of the revenue, and others, who had suffered, by the riots, in the years 1773 and 1774. Such was the _Port Bill_, whose destructive operation was directed, upon the port of Boston alone, under a fatal misunderstanding of the British government, in relation to the real unanimity of the American people.

It is no easy matter, to describe the effect of this act of folly and injustice. The whole country seemed to be affected, with a sort of political _neuralgia_; and the attack upon Boston, like a wound upon some principal nerve, convulsed the whole fabric. The colonies resembled a band of brothers--"born for affliction:" a blow was no sooner aimed at one, than the remaining twelve rushed to the rescue, each one interposing an aegis. In no part of the country, were there more dignified, or more touching, or more substantial testimonies of sympathy manifested, for the people of Boston, than in the Southern States; and especially in Virginia, Maryland, and both the Carolinas.

The _Port Bill_ came into force, June 1, 1774. The Marylanders of Annapolis, on the 25th of May preceding, assembled, and resolved, that Boston was "_suffering in the common cause of America_." On the 30th, the magistrates, and other inhabitants of Queen Anne's County resolved, in full meeting, that they would "_make known, as speedily as possible, their sentiments to their distressed brethren of Boston, and that they looked upon the cause of Boston to be the common cause of America_." The House of Burgesses, in Virginia, appointed the day, when the Boston Port Bill came into operation, as a day of fasting and prayer, throughout the ancient dominion. A published letter, from Kent County, Maryland, dated June 7, 1774, says--"The people of Boston need not be afraid of being starved into compliance; if they will only give a short notice, they may make their town the granary of America."

June 24, 1774.--Twenty-four days after the Port Bill went into operation, a public meeting was held at Charleston, S. C. The moving spirits were the Trapiers and the Elliots, the Horries and the Clarksons, the Gadsdens and the Pinkneys of that day; and resolutions were passed, full of brotherly love and sympathy, for the inhabitants of Boston.

"Baltimore, July 16th, 1774.--A vessel hath sailed from the Eastern Shore of this Province, with a cargo of provisions as a free gift to our besieged brethren of Boston. The inhabitants of all the counties of Virginia and Maryland are subscribing, with great liberality, for the relief of the distressed towns of Boston and Charlestown. The inhabitants of Alexandria, we hear, in a few hours, subscribed L350, for that noble purpose. Subscriptions are opened in this town, for the support and animation of Boston, under their present great conflict, for the common freedom of us all. A vessel is now loading with provisions, as a testimony of the affection of this people towards their persecuted brethren."

"Salem, Aug. 23, 1774.--Yesterday arrived at Marblehead, Capt. Perkins, from Baltimore, with 3000 bushels of corn, 20 barrels of rye meal, and 21 barrels of bread, for the benefit of the poor of Boston, and with 1000 bushels of corn from Annapolis, for the same benevolent purpose."

"New York, Aug. 15, 1774.--Saturday last, Capt. Dickerson arrived here, and brought 376 barrels of rye from South Carolina, to be sold, and proceeds remitted to Boston, a present to the sufferers; a still larger cargo is to be shipped for the like benevolent purpose."

"Newport, R. I.--Capt. Bull, from Wilmington, North Carolina, arrived here last Tuesday, with a load of provisions for the poor of Boston; to sail again for Salem."

These testimonies of a kind and brotherly spirit, came from all quarters of the country. These illustrations might be multiplied to any extent. I pass by the manifestations of the most cordial sympathy from other colonies, and the contributions from the towns and villages around us--my business lies, at present with the South--and my object is to remind some of the more rampant and furious of my abolition friends, who are of yesterday, that the people of the South, however hasty they may be, living under the sun's fiercer rays, and however excited, when a Northern man, however respectable, comes to take up his quarters in their midst, and gather evidence against them, under their very noses--are not precisely _outside barbarians_.

Let the work of abolition go forward, in a dignified and decent spirit. Let us argue; and, so far as we rightfully may, let us legislate. Let us bring the whole world's sympathy up to the work of emancipation. But, let us not revile and vituperate those, who are, to all intents and purposes, our brethren, as certainly as if they lived just over the Roxbury line, instead of Mason's and Dixon's. Such harsh and unmitigated scoffing and abuse, as we too often witness, are equally ungracious, ungentlemanly, and ungrateful.

There is something strangely grotesque, to be sure, in the idea of calling a state, in which there are more slaves than freemen, the _land of liberty_. Our Massachusetts ancestors had a very good _theoretical_ conception of its inconsistency and absurdity, as early as 1773; when the first glimmerings of independence began to come over the spirit of their dreams. In that year, the Massachusetts negroes caught the liberty fever, and presented a petition to have their fetters knocked off. May 17, 1773, the inhabitants of Pembroke addressed a respectfully suggestive letter to their representative in the General Court, John Turner; the last paragraph of which is well worthy of republication. The entire letter may be found in the Boston Gazette of June 14, 1773--"We think the negro petition reasonable--agreeable to natural justice and the precepts of the Gospel; and therefore advise that, in concurrence with the other worthy members of the assembly, you endeavor to find a way, in which they may be freed from slavery, without wrong to their present masters, or injury to themselves--and that a total abolition of slavery may in due time take place. Then we trust we may with humble confidence, look up to the Great Arbiter of Heaven and earth, expecting that he will in his own due time, look upon our affliction, and in the way of his Providence, deliver us from the insults, the grievances, and impositions we so justly complain of." This, as the reader will remember, had reference to slavery in Massachusetts.

No. XLV.

In 1823, and in the month of May, something, in my line, caused me to visit the first ex-President Adams, at the old mansion in Quincy. By some persons, he was accounted a cold man; and his son, John Quincy, even a colder man: yet neither was cold, unless in the sense, in which Mount Hecla is cold--belted in everlasting ice, though liable, occasionally, to violent eruptions of a fiery character.

As I was taking my leave, being about to remove into a distant State, my daughter, between five and six years old, stepped timidly towards Mr. Adams, and placing her little hand upon his, and looking upon his venerable features, said to him--"_Sir, you are so old, and I am going away so far, that I do not think I shall ever see you again--will you let me kiss you before I go?_" His brow was suddenly overcast--the spirit became gently solemnized--"_Certainly, my child_" said he, "_if you desire to kiss a very old man, whom it is quite likely you will never see again_."--He bowed his aged form, and the child, rising on tiptoe, impressed a kiss upon his brow. I would give a great deal more than I can afford, for a fair sketch of that old man's face, as he resumed his position--I see it now, with the eye of a Swedenborgian. His features were slightly flushed, but not discomposed at all; tears filled his eyes; and, if one word must suffice to express all that I saw, that word is _benevolence_--that same benevolence, which taught him, on the day of his death, July 4, 1826, when asked if he knew what day it was, to exclaim--"_Yes, it is the glorious Fourth of July--God bless it--God bless you all_."

At the time of the little occurrence, which I have related, Mr. Adams was eighty-eight years old. I ventured to say, that I wished we could give him the years of Methuselah--to which he replied, with a faint smile,--"_My friend, you could not wish me a greater curse_."--As we wax older and grayer, this expression, which, in the common phrase, is _Greek_ to the young and uninitiated, becomes sufficiently translated into every man's vernacular. Mr. Adams was born October 19, 1735, and had therefore attained his ninety-first year, when he died.

Nothing like the highest ancient standard of longevity is attained, in modern times. Nine hundred, sixty, and nine years, is certainly a long life-time. When baby Lamech was born, his father was a young fellow of one hundred and eighty-seven. Weary work it must have been, waiting so long, for one's inheritance!

The records of modern longevity will appear, nevertheless, somewhat surprising, to those, who have given but little attention to the subject. The celebrated Albert De Haller, and there can be no higher authority, enumerated eleven hundred and eleven cases of individuals, who had lived from 100 to 169. His classification is as follows:--

1000 from 100 to 110
60 " 110 to 120
29 " 120 to 130
15 " 130 to 140
6 " 140 to 150
1 of 169.

The oldest was Henry Jenkins, of Yorkshire, who died in 1670. Thomas Parr, of Wilmington, in Shropshire, died in 1635, aged 152. He was a poor yeoman, and married his first wife, when he was in his 88th year, or, as some say, his 80th, and had two children. He was brought to Court, by the Earl of Arundel, in the reign of Charles I., and died, as it was supposed, in consequence of change of diet. His body was examined by Dr. Harvey, who thought he might have lived much longer, had he adhered to his simple habits. Being rudely asked, before the King, what more he had done, in his long life, than other old men, he replied--"_At the age of 105, I did penance in Alderbury Church, for an illegitimate child_." When he was 120, he married a second wife, by whom he had a child. Sharon Turner, in his Sacred History of the World, vol. iii. ch. 23, says, in a note, that Parr's son (by the second wife, the issue by the first died early) lived to the age of 113--his grandson to that of 109--his great-grandson to that of 124; and two other grandsons, who died in 1761 and 1763, to that of 127.

Parr's was a much longer life than Reuben's, Judah's, Issachar's, Abner's, Simeon's, Dan's, Zebulon's, Levi's, or Naphthali's. Dr. Harvey's account of the post mortem examination is extremely interesting. The quaint lines of Taylor, the water poet, as he was styled, I cannot omit:--

"Good wholesome labor was his exercise,
Down with the lamb, and with the lark would rise;
In mire and toiling sweat he spent the day,
And to his team he whistled time away:
The cock his night-clock, and till day was done,
His watch and chief sundial was the sun.
He was of old Pythagoras' opinion,
That green cheese was most wholesome with an onion;
Coarse meslin bread, and for his daily swig,
Milk, buttermilk, and water, whey and whig.
Sometimes metheglin, and by fortune happy,
He sometimes sipp'd a cup of ale most nappy,
Cider or perry, when he did repair
T'a Whitsun ale, wake, wedding or a fair;
Or, when in Christmas time he was a guest
At his good landlord's house, among the rest.
Else he had very little time to waste,
Or at the alehouse huff-cap ale to taste.
His physic was good butter, which the soil
Of Salop yields, more sweet than candy oil.
And garlic he esteemed, above the rate
Of Venice treacle or best Mithridate.
He entertained no gout, no ache he felt,
The air was good and temperate, where he dwelt;
While mavises and sweet-tongued nightingales
Did sing him roundelays and madrigals.
Thus, living within bounds of nature's laws
Of his long, lasting life may be some cause.
From head to heel, his body had all over
A quickset, thickset, nat'ral, hairy cover."

Isaac lived to the age of 180, or five years longer than his father Abraham. I now propose to enter one or more well-known old stagers, of modern times, who will beat Isaac, by five lengths. Mr. Easton, of Salisbury, England, a respectable bookseller, and quoted, as good authority by Turner, prepared a more extensive list than Haller, of persons, who had died aged from 100 to 185. His work was entitled _Human Longevity_--1600 of his cases occurred, within the British Isles, and 1687 between the years 1706 and 1799. He sets down three between 170 and 185, giving their names and other particulars.

Mr. Whitehurst's tables contain several cases, not in Mr. Easton's work, from 134 years to 148. Some twenty other cases are stated, by Turner, from 130 to 150. I refer, historically, to the case of Jonathan Hartop, not because of the very great age he attained, but for other reasons of interest: "1791.--Died, Jonathan Hartop, aged one hundred and thirty-eight, of the village of Aldborough, Yorkshire. He could read to the last, without spectacles, and play at cribbage, with the most perfect recollection. He remembered Charles II., and once travelled to London, with the facetious Killegrew. He ate but little; his only beverage was milk. He had been married five times. Mr. Hartop lent Milton fifty pounds, which the bard returned, with honor, though not without much difficulty. Mr. Hartop would have declined receiving it; but the pride of the poet was equal to his genius, and he sent the money with an angry letter, which was found, among the curious possessions of that venerable old man."

On the 4th of July, 1846, I visited Dr. Ezra Green, at his residence, in Dover, N. H. He showed me a couple of letters, which he had received, a short time before, from Daniel Webster and Thomas H. Benton, congratulating him, on having completed his one hundredth year, on the 17th of the preceding June, the anniversary of the battle of Bunker's Hill, and remarked, that those gentlemen had not regarded the difference, between the old style and the new. He told me, that in 1777, he had been a surgeon, in the Ranger, with John Paul Jones. Upon my taking out my glasses, to read a passage in a pamphlet, to which he called my attention, he told me he had never used spectacles, nor felt the need of any such assistance, in reading. Dr. Green died, in 1847.

He graduated, at Harvard, in 1765. At the time of his death, every other member of his own class, numbering fifty-four, was dead.

Previously to 1765, two thousand and seventy-five individuals are named, upon the catalogue. They were all dead at the time of his decease, though he died so recently, as 1847. Yet, from the year, when he graduated, to 1786, a period of twenty years, of seven hundred and seventy-three graduates, fifteen only appear, upon the catalogue of 1848, without the fatal star. One of the fifteen, Harrison Gray Otis, has recently died, leaving three survivors only, in his class of 1783, Asa Andrews, J. S. Boies, and Jonathan Ewins. Another of the fifteen has also recently died, being the oldest graduate, Judge Timothy Farrar, of the class of 1767. The oldest living graduate of Harvard is James Lovell, of the class of 1776.

I send my communication to the press, as speedily as possible, lest he also should be off, before I can publish.

No. XLVI.

A few days ago, I saw, in the hands of the artist, Mr. Alvan Clarke, a sketch, nearly completed, from Stuart's painting of John Adams, in his very old age. This sketch is to be engraved, as an accompaniment of the works of Mr. Adams, about to be published, by Little & Brown. I scarcely know what to say of this sketch of Mr. Adams. His fine old face, such as it was in the flesh, and at the very last of his long and illustrious career, is fixed in my memory--rivetted there--as firmly as his name is bolted, upon the loftiest column of our national history. Never have I seen a more perfect fac simile of man, without the aid of relief--it is the resurrection and the life. If I am at a loss what to say of the sketch, I am still farther at fault, what to say of the artist. Like some of those heavenly bodies, whose contemplation occupies no little portion of his time, it is not always the easiest thing in the world, to know in what part of his orbit he may be found; if I desire to obtain a portrait, or a miniature, or a sketch, he can scarcely devote his time to it, he is so very busy, in contriving some new improvement, for his already celebrated rifle; or if it is a patent muzzled rifle that I want, he is quite likely to be occupied, in the manufacture of a telescope. Be all these matters as they may, I can vouch for it, after years of experience, Alvan Clarke is a very clever fellow, _Anglice et Americanice_; and this sketch of Mr. Adams does him honor, as an artist.

It was in the year 1822, I believe, that a young lady sent me her album, with a request, that I, of all people in the world, would occupy one of its pages. Well, I felt, that after all, it was quite in my line, for I had always looked upon a young lady's album, as a kind of cemetery, for the burial of anybody's bantlings, and I began to read the inscriptions, upon such as reposed in this place, appointed for the still-born. I was a little startled, I confess, at my first glance, upon the autograph of the late Bishop Griswold, appended to some very respectable verses. My attention was next drawn to some lines, over the name of Daniel Webster, _manu propria_. I forget them now, but I remember, that the American Eagle was invoked for the occasion, and flapped its wings, through one or more of the stanzas. Next came an article in strong, sensible prose, from John Adams, written by an amanuensis, but signed with his own hand. Such a hand--the "_manu deficiente_" of Tibullus. The letters, formed by the failing, trembling fingers, resembled the forked lightning. A solemnizing and impressive autograph it was: and, under the impulse of the moment, I had the audacity to spoil three pages of this consecrated album, by appending to this venerable name the following lines:--

High over Alps, in Dauphine,
There lies a lonely spot,
So wild, that ages rolled away,
And man had claimed it not:
For ages there, the tiger's yell
Bay'd the hoarse torrent as it fell.

Amid the dark, sequestered glade,
No more the brute shall roam;
For man, unsocial man, hath made
That wilderness his home:
And convent bell, with notes forlorn,
Is heard, at midnight, eve, and morn.

For now, amid the Grand Chartreuse,
Carthusian monks reside;
Whose lives are passed, from man recluse,
In scourging human pride;
In matins, vespers, aves, creeds,
With crosses, masses, prayers, and beads.

When hither men of curious mood,
Or pilgrims, bend their way,
To view this Alpine solitude,
Or, heav'nward bent, to pray,
Saint Bruno's monks their album bring,
Inscrib'd by poet, priest, and king.

Since pilgrim first, with holy tears,
Inscrib'd the tablet fair,
On time's dark flood, some thousand years,
Have pass'd like billows there.
What countless names its pages blot,
By country, kindred, long forgot!

Here chaste conceits and thoughts divine
Unclaim'd, and nameless, stand;
Which, like the Grecian's waving line,
Betray some master's hand.
And here Saint Bruno's monks display,
With pride, the classic lines of Gray.

While pilgrim ponders o'er the name,
He feels his bosom glow;
And counts it nothing less than fame,
To write his own below.
So, in this Album, fain would I,
Beneath a name, that cannot die.

Thrice happy book! no tablet bears
A nobler name than thine;
Still followed by a nation's pray'rs,
Through ling'ring life's decline.
The wav'ring stylus scarce obey'd
The hand, that once an empire sway'd!

Not thus, among the patriot band,
That name enroll'd we see--
No falt'ring tongue, no trembling hand
Proclaim'd an empire free!--
Lady, retrace those lines, and tell,
If, in thy heart, no sadness dwell?

And, in those fainting, struggling lines,
Oh, see'st thou naught sublime!
No tott'ring pile, that half inclines!
No mighty wreck of time!
Sighs not thy gentle heart to save
The sage, the patriot, from the grave!

If thus, oh then recall that sigh,
Unholy 'tis, and vain;
For saints and sages never die,
But sleep, to rise again.
Life is a lengthened day, at best,
And in the grave tir'd trav'llers rest;

Till, with his trump, to wake the dead,
Th' appointed angel flies;
Then Heav'n's bright album shall be spread,
And all who sleep, shall rise;
The blest to Zion's Hill repair,
And write their names immortal there.

I had as much pleasure, in composing these lines, as I ever had, in composing the limbs or the features of a corpse; and now that they are fairly laid out, the reader may bury them in oblivion, as soon as he pleases. The lines of Gray, referred to, in the sixth stanza, may be found in the collections of his works, and were written in the album of the Chartreuse, in 1741.

My recollections of John Adams, are very perfect, and preeminently pleasant. I knew nothing of him personally, of course, in the days of his power. I had nothing to ask at his hands, but the permission to sit and listen. How vast and how various his learning!--"Qui sermo! quae praecepta! quanta notitia antiquitatis!... Omnia memoria tenebat, non domestica solum, sed etiam externa bella: cujus sermone ita tum cupide fruebar, quasi jam divinarem id, quod evenit, illo extincto, fore, unde discerem, neminem." Surpassingly delightful were the outpourings, till some thoughtless wight, by an ill-timed allusion, opened the fountain of bitter waters--then, history, literature, the arts, all were buried _in gurgite vasto_, giving place to Jefferson's injustice, the Mazzei letters, and Callender's prospect before us--_quantum mutatus ab illo_!

How forcibly the dead are quickened, upon the retina of memory, by the exhibition of some well known and personally associated article--the little hat of Napoleon--the mantle of Caesar--"_you all do know this mantle_!" I have just now drawn, from my treasury, an autograph of John Adams, bearing date, Jan. 31, 1824, and a lock of strong hair, cut from his venerable brow, the day before. In October of that year, he was eighty-nine years of age; and that lock of hair is a dark iron gray. I have also taken from its casket a silver pen, and small portable inkstand attached, which also were his. The contemplation of these things--I came honestly by them--seems almost to raise that venerable form before me. I can almost hear him repeat those memorable words--"THE UNION IS OUR ROCK OF SAFETY AS WELL AS OUR PLEDGE OF GRANDEUR."

No. XLVII.

I am rather surprised, to find how little is known, among the rising generation, about slavery, in the Old Bay State. One might delve for a twelve month, and not gather together the half of all, that is condensed, in Dr. Belknap's replies to Judge Tucker's inquiries, Mass. H. C., iv. 191.

I never was a sexton in the Berry Street Church, but I knew Dr. Jeremy Belknap well, in 1797, when he lived on the southeasterly side of Lincoln Street, near Essex. He died the following year. His garden was overrun with spiders. I had a great veneration for the doctor--he gave me a copy of his Foresters--and, to repay a small part of the debt, I was proceeding, one summer morning, with a strong arm, to demolish the spiders, when he pleasantly called to me to desist, saying, that he preferred them to the flies.

Slavery was here--negro slavery--at a very early day. Josselyn speaks of three slaves, in the family of Maverick, on Noddle's Island, Oct. 2, 1639, M. H. C., xxiii. 231. These were probably brought directly from Africa. In 1645, the General Court of Massachusetts ordered Mr. Williams, at Pascataqua, over which Massachusetts exercised jurisdiction, to send the negro he had of Captain Smith, to them, that he might be sent home; as Smith had confessed, that the negroes he brought were stolen from Guinea. Ibid. iv. 195. In the same year, a law was passed, against the traffic in slaves, those excepted, who were taken in war, or cast into servitude, for crime. Ibid.