Chapter III: Part II (2)

"Well, well, I don't want to incommode you,"--shifting his feet uncertainly. "I--it's not my will I came across you. Single life suits me. And you too, heh? I've been rollicking round these four years,--Tom Crane and I: you don't know Tom, though. Plains,--Valparaiso,--New Orleans. Well, I'm going to see this shindy out in the States now. Tom's in it, head-devil of a guerrilla-band. _I_ keep safe. Let Jack Gurney alone for keeping a whole skin! But, eh, Grey?"--mounting a pair of gold-rimmed eye-glasses over his thick nose. "You've grown. Different woman, by George! Nothing but a puling, gawky girl, when I went away. Your eyes and skin have got color,--luscious-looking: why, your eyes flash like a young bison's we trapped out in Nevada. Come, kiss me, Grey. Eh?"--looking in the brown eyes that met his, and stopping short in his approach.

Of the man and woman standing there face to face the woman's soul was the more guilty, it may be, in God's eyes, that minute. She loathed him with such intensity of hatred. The leer in his eyes was that of a fiend, to her. In which she was wrong. There are no thorough-bred villains, out of novels: even Judas had a redeeming trait (out of which he hanged himself). This man Gurney had a weak, incomplete brain, strong sensual instincts, and thick blood thirsty for excitement,--all, probably, you could justly say of Nero. He did not care especially to torment the woman,--would rather she were happy than not,--unless, indeed, he needed her pain. So he stopped, regarding her. Enough of a true voluptuary, too, to shun turmoil.

"There! hush! For God's sake don't begin to cry out. I'm weak yet; can't bear noise."

"I'm not going to cry," her voice so low he had to stoop to hear. Something, too, in her heart that made her push Pen from her, when he fumbled to unclasp her clinched hands,--some feeling she knew to be so foul she dared not touch him.

"Do you mean to claim me as your wife, John?"

He did not reply immediately; leisurely inspecting her from head to foot, as she stood bent, her eyes lying like a dead weight on his, patting and curling his yellow whiskers meanwhile.

"Wife, heh? I don't know. Your face is getting gray. Where's that pretty color gone you had a bit ago, Puss? By George!"--laughing,--"I don't think it would need much more temptation to make a murderer out of you. I did not expect you to remember the old days so well. I was hard on you then,"--stopping, with a look of half admiration, half fear, to criticize her again. "Well, well, I'll be serious. Will I claim you again? N--o. On the whole, I believe not. I'll be candid, Grey,--I always was a candid man, you know. I'd like well enough to have the taming of you. It would keep a man alive to play Petruchio to such a Kate, 'pon honor! But I do hate the trammels,--I've cut loose so long, you see. You're not enough to tempt a fellow to hang out as family man again. It's the cursedest slavery! So I think," poising his ringed finders on his chin, thoughtfully, "we'd best settle it this way. I'll take my exchange and go South, and we'll keep our own counsel. Nobody's wiser. If it suits you to say I'm dead, why, I'm dead at your service. I won't trouble you again. Or if you would rather, you can sue out a divorce in some of the States,--wilful desertion, etc. I'm willing."

She shook her head.

"In any case you are free."

She wrung her hands.

"I am never free again! never again!"--sobs coming now, shaking her body. She crouched down on the ground, burying her head out of sight.

"Tut! tut! A scene, after all! I tell you, girl, I'll do what you wish."

She raised her head.

"If you were _dead_, John Gurney! That is all. I was going to be a pure, good, happy woman, and now"----

Her eyes closed, her head fell slowly on her breast, her hands and face gray with the mottled blood blued under the eyes.

"Oh, damn it! Poor thing! She won't know anything for a bit," said Gurney, laying her head back against the sandstone. "I'll be off. What a devil she is, to be sure! Boy, you'd best put some water on your sister's face in a minute or two,"--to the whimpering Pen. "If I was safe out of this scrape, and off from the Ferry"----

And thrusting his eye-glass into his pocket, he went up the hill, still chafing his whiskers. Near the town he met Paul Blecker. The sun was nearly down. The Doctor stopped short, looking at the man's face fixedly. He found nothing there, but a vapid self-complacency.

"He has not seen her," said Paul, hurrying on. "Another hour, and I am safe."

But Gurney had a keen twinkle in his eye.

"It's not the first time that fellow has looked as if he would like to see my throat cut," he muttered. "I begin to understand, eh? If he has a mind to the girl, I'm not safe. Jack Gurney, you'd best vamose this ranch to-night. Sheppard will parole me to headquarters, and then for an exchange."

THE HANCOCK HOUSE AND ITS FOUNDER.

"Every man's proper mansion-house and home, being the
Theater of his hospitality, the seate of selfe-fruition, the
comfortablest part of his own life, the noblest of his
sonne's inheritance, a kind of private princedome, nay, to
the possessors thereof, an epitome of the whole world, may
well deserve, by these attributes, according to the degree
of the master, to be decently and delightfully
adorned."--SIR HENRY WOTTON.

In the year of grace 1722, Captain John Bonner, _Ætatis suæ_ 60, took it upon himself to publish a plan of "The _Town_ of BOSTON in New-England. _Engraven_ and _printed_ by Fra: Dewing and Sold by _Capt. Bonner and Will'm. Price_, against y'e Town House." From the explanation given on the margin, it appears that the town then contained "Streets 42, Lanes 36, Alleys 22, Houses near 3000, 1000 Brick rest Timber, near 12,000 people." The area of the Common shows the Powder-House, the Watch-House, and the Great Elm, venerable even then in its solitary grandeur,--the Rope-Walks line the distant road to Cambridge Ferry, and far to the west of houses and settlements rises the conical peak of Beacon Hill,--a lonely pasture for the cattle of the thrifty and growing settlement.

Fifteen years later, a great improvement began to be visible in this hitherto neglected suburb. The whole southerly slope of the hill had been purchased in 1735 by a citizen of renown, and soon a fair stone mansion began to show its elegant proportions on the most eligible spot near its centre. By this time, as we have it, on the authority of no less reputable a chronicler than Mr. John Oldmixon, "the Conversation of the Town of Boston is as polite as in most of the Cities and Towns of England; many of their merchants having traded into Europe, and those that stayed at home having the Advantage of Society with travellers" (including, of course, Mr. Oldmixon himself). "So that a gentleman from London would almost think himself at home at Boston," (this is in Mr. Anthony Trollope's own vein,) "when he observes the numbers of people, their houses, their furniture, their tables, their dress and conversation, which perhaps is as splendid and showy as that of the most considerable tradesman in London." _Primus inter pares_, however, stood the builder of the house on Beacon Hill, and there seems to be little doubt that Mr. Hancock's doings on his fine estate created a great stir of admiration, and that the new stone house was thought to be a very grand and famous affair in the infant metropolis of New England, in the year 1737.

The precise period which brought Mr. Hancock to undertake the building of the house in Beacon Street was one in which it might not have been altogether uninteresting to have lived. The affairs of the mother country had been carried on for nearly twenty years of comparative peace, under the dexterous guidance of Sir Robert Walpole,--that cleverest, if not most scrupulous, minister of the British crown,--while my Lord Bolingbroke--permitted to return from France, but living under a qualified attainder, and closely watched by the keen-sighted minister--was occupying himself in writing his bitter and uncompromising pamphlets against the government of the House of Hanover. The minister's son Horace, an elegant, indolent youth, fresh from Cambridge, was travelling on the Continent in company with a shy and sensitive man of letters, not much known at the time,--by the name of Gray. This gentleman gained no small credit, however, some ten or twelve years afterwards, by the publication of "An Elegy written in a Country Churchyard,"--a piece which, notwithstanding the remote date of its appearance, it is possible that some of our readers may have chanced to come across in the course of their literary researches. Giddiness, loss of memory, and other alarming symptoms of mental disorder had begun to attack the great intellect of Dr. Swift, and forced him to lay aside the pen which for nearly half a century had been alternately the scourge and the support of the perplexed cabinets of the time. His friend Mr. Pope, however, was living quite snug and comfortable, on the profits of his translations, at his pretty villa at Twickenham, and adding to his fame and means by the publication of his "Correspondence" and his "Universal Prayer." The learned Rector of Broughton, Dr. Warburton, encouraged by the advice of friends, had just brought out his first volume of "The Divine Legation of Moses"; the Bishop of Bristol had carried his great "Analogy of Religion" through the press the year before; Dr. Watts was getting old and infirm, but still engaged in his thirty years' visit to his friend Sir Thomas Abney, Knight and Alderman, of Abney Park, Stoke Newington. That remarkable young Scotchman, David Hume, was paying his respects to the sensational philosophy of Locke in a series of essays which "spread consternation through every region of existing speculation"; Adam Smith was a promising pupil under Hutcheson,--the father of Scotch metaphysics,--at the University of Glasgow. General Fielding's son Henry--but just married--was spending his charming young wife's portion of fifteen hundred pounds in the careless hospitality of his Derbyshire house-keeping,--three years' experience of which, however, reduced him to the necessity of undertaking his first novel for the booksellers, in the story of "Joseph Andrews." Captain Cook, at the age of thirteen, was a restless apprentice to a haberdasher near Whitby. And although "the age of steam" had certainly not then arrived, it must yet be allowed--in the words of the Highland vagrant to Cameron of Lochiel, not long after--that already

"Coming events cast their shadows before,"--

since we find that there lay in his nursery, in the family of Town Councillor Watt, the Bailie of Greenock, in the spring of the year 1736, a quiet, delicate, little Scotch baby, complacently sucking the tiny fist destined in after years to grasp and imprison that fearful vapory demon whose struggle for escape from his life-long captivity now furnishes the motive-power for the most mighty undertakings of man throughout the civilized world. It would surely have been something, we think,--the opportunity to have seen all these, from Bolingbroke in his library to James Watt in his cradle.

Turning to affairs somewhat nearer home, perhaps a slight glance at "y'e conversation and way of living" of the good people of Boston, during the years that Mr. Hancock was carrying on his building and getting himself gradually settled in its comforts, may help us to conceive a better idea of the form and pressure of the age. Well,--Mr. Peter Faneuil was just then laboring to persuade the town that it might not be the worst thing they could do to accept the gift of a handsome new Town-Hall which he was very desirous to build for them,--an opinion so furiously combated and opposed by the conservatives and practical men of that day, that Mr. Faneuil succeeded in carrying his revolutionary measure, at last, in the open town-meeting, by a majority of only seven votes (a much larger majority, however, it is but fair to observe, than that which adopted a decent City-Hall for the same municipality only last year). Whitefield was preaching on the Common, in front of Mr. Hancock's premises, to audiences of twenty thousand people, "as some compute," "poor deluded souls," says the unemotional Dr. Douglass, writing at the period, "whose time is their only Estate; called off to these exhortations, to the private detriment of their families, and great Damage to the Public: _thus perhaps every such exhortation of his was about £1000 damage to Boston_." Governor Belcher, who came home from England with the same instructions as Governor which he was sent out to oppose as envoy, had been superseded in his high office by "William Shirley, Esquire,--esteemed for his gentlemanly deportment." Watchmen were required "_in a moderate tone_ to cry the time o' night, and give an Account of the Weather as they walk't their rounds after twelve o'clock." The men that had been raised in town for the ill-starred expedition to Carthagena were being drilled on the Common,--and Hancock, writing to a friend, tells him, "We have the pleasure of Seeing 'em Disciplin'd every Day from 5 in morning to 8, & from 5 afternoon 'till night, before our house,--many Gentle'n & others Daily fill y'e Common,--& wee have not y'e Less Company for it, but a quicker draft for Wine & Cider." Annually, on the Fifth of November, Guy Fawkes, the Pope, the Devil, and the Pretender were burned on the Common, amidst much noise and rioting, often degenerating into the tapping of claret and solid cracking of crowns between the North End and South End champions,--who made this always their field-day, _par excellence_,--to the great worriment of the Town Constables, and the infinite wrath and disgust of the Select Men. And, finally, we remark, "the goodness of the pavement in Boston might compare with most in London, for to gallop a Horse on it is three Shillings and fourpence Forfeit!"

Such were the curious and simple, but, withal, rather cozy and jolly old years in which the Hancock House was planned and built and first occupied. Always a really fine residence, it is now the sole relic of the family mansions of the _old_ Town of Boston, as in many respects it has long been the most noted and interesting of them all. One hundred and twenty-seven years have passed away since its erection, and old Captain Bonner's map now requires a pretty close study to enable our modern eyes to recognize any clue to its present locality. It stands, in fact, a solitary monumental pillar in the stream of time,--a link to connect the present with the eventful past; and the prospect of its expected removal--though not, we trust, of its demolition--may render the present a fitting opportunity to call up some few of the quaint old reminiscences with which it is connected.

We have now before us, as we write, the original Contract or Indenture for the freestone work of the venerable structure. It is a document certainly not without a curious interest to those of us who have passed and repassed so often in our daily walks the gray old relic of New England's antiquity, to the very inception of which this faded paper reverts. It is an agreement made between Mr. Thomas Hancock and one "Thomas Johnson of Middleton in the County of Hartford and Colony of Connecticut In New-England, Stone-Cutter." By this instrument the Connecticut brown-stone man of that day binds himself to "Supply and Furnish the said Thomas Hancock with as much Connecticut Stone as Shall be Sufficient to Beatify and build Four Corners, One Large Front Door, Nine Front Windows and a Facie for the Front and back Part Over the Lower Story Windows of a certain Stone House which the Said Thomas Hancock is about to Erect on a Certain Piece of Land Situate near Beacon Hill in Boston aforesaid; as also So much of said Connecticut Stone as shall be Sufficient to make a water Table round the Said House, which Said Stone the Said Johnson Covenants and Agrees shall be well Cut, fitted and polished, workmanlike and According to the Rules of Art every way Agreeable, & to the Liking and Satisfaction of Mr. Hancock." The stone is to be delivered to Mr. Hancock's order at Boston, all "In Good Order and Condition, not Touched with the Salt Water, and at the proper Cost, Charge and Risque of the s'd Johnson." The consideration paid to Johnson is fixed at "the Sum of three hundred Pounds _in Goods_ as the Said Stone Cutter's work is Carryed on." The latter stipulation as to the payment would be curious enough at the present day, though it appears to have been not uncommon at the time this contract was executed. The perusal of Mr. Thomas Hancock's letter-book, however, now also lying before us, will not leave one in any need of this additional proof of the old Boston merchant's keen eye always to a business profit.

The Indenture is written in a clear, round, mercantile hand,--evidently Mr. Hancock's own, but his _best_, by comparison with the letter-book,--the leading words of the principal paragraphs being garnished with masterly flourishes, and the top of the paper "indented" by cutting with a knife so as to fit or "tally," after the fashion of those days, with the corresponding copy delivered to Johnson. It has been indorsed and filed away with evident care, and is consequently now in a state of absolute and perfect preservation. With the exception, however, of that little matter of the _store-pay_, and of the wording of the date of its execution, which is given as the "Tenth Year of the Reign of our Sovereign Lord George the Second, by the Grace of God of Great Britain, France, and Ireland, King, Defender of the Faith, &c.," the document differs but little in its phraseology--so conservative is the letter of the law of real estate--from those in use for precisely such contracts in the year 1863.

"Thomas Hancock, of Boston in the County of Suffolk and Province of the Massachusetts Bay in New England, Merchant," as he is named and described in the paper before us, was the founder of the fortunes of the family, and a man of the most considerable note and importance in his day. He was the son of the Reverend Mr. John Hancock, of Lexington, in which town he was born on the 13th of July, 1703. He was sent to Boston early in life to learn the business of a stationer,--with which calling those of bookseller and bookbinder were then combined,--and served his time accordingly with the leading provincial bibliopole of the day, "the enterprising Bookseller Henchman," who died in 1761. Quick, active, thrifty, young Hancock soon made his way in the world,--his famous bookstore in Ann Street was known as the "Stationers' Arms" as early as 1729; the industrious apprentice in due course married his master's fair daughter Lydia; and so our Thomas Hancock went on his way to credit and fortune, and last and best of all to house-building after his own mind, "the comfortablest part of his own life," with strides quite as easy and certain as did his contemporary, the Worshipful Francis Goodchild, Esq., of London,--whose career was, at that very time, so impressing itself upon the notice of that eminent hand, Mr. William Hogarth, of Leicester Fields in the Parish of St. Martin's, as to lead him to depict its events in the remarkable series of prints, "Industry and Idleness," in which they are now handed down for the admiration of posterity. And what the great painter tells us of his hero is equally true of ours,--that, "by taking good courses, and pursuing those points for which he was put apprentice, he became a valuable man, and an ornament to his country."

The pursuits connected with book-making were not, however, without their trials and troubles, even at that early day. From some of Hancock's letters for the year 1736, we find that one Cox was a sad thorn in his side, a grievous lion in his daily path. His chief correspondent among the booksellers in London at this period was Mr. Thomas Longman,--the founder of the renowned house of Longmans of our own time,--and to him Hancock often pours out his trials and grievances in the quaint and pointed style of the business letters of "The Spectator's" own day. Under date of April 10, 1736, for instance, he writes,--"I cannot Think of Doing much more in the Book way at present, unless Cox Recalls his Agent, which I am Certain He never will if you give up this point," (_i. e._ of making larger consignments to Hancock on his own account,) "as I can Improve my Money In other Goods from Great Brittan to so much better Advantage." Yet, he continues, "I am unwilling Quite to Quit The Book branch of Trade, and you Can't but be Senceable that it was my Regard to you has Occasioned it's being forced from me in this way."

About the month of May, 1738, Cox appears to have become wellnigh intolerable. On the 24th of that month our bookseller writes to Longman,--"Cox has Sent some more Books here this Spring, & I Cannot Learn that he's Called his man home Yet. I am a Great Sufferer by him, as well as you, having above £250 Sterling in Books by me, before what Came from you now." Sometimes, however, Cox makes a slight mistake, and then our bookseller again takes heart of courage. Thus, under date of October 29, 1739, he again writes to Longman,--"Cox's man Caine in Hall's ship about a month Agoe, brought Eight Trunks and a Box or two of Books, has opened his Shop, but makes no Great Figure & is but little taken Notice off, _which is a a Good Symtom of a bad Sortment_,--his Return here was Surprising to me; truly I did not Expect it. At present I don't know how to Govern myself as to the Book Trade, _but am willing to do the Needful to Discountenance him_, and will write you again in little Time." But, alas! by the 10th of December following, Cox had rallied bravely, and, accordingly, Hancock again writes in despair,--"I know not how to Conduct my Affairs as to the Book Trade. Cox's Shop is opened, & he has a pretty Good Collection of Books. He brought with him 8 Trunks, & 4 Came in y'e next Ship. His Coming is A Great Damage to me, having many Books by me unsold for Years past, & most all which I had of you this Year. I am Ready Sometimes to Give up that part of my Business, & I think I should have done it ere now, were I not in hopes of Serving you in that Branch of Trade. _Could you propose any Scheem to discountenance our Common Enemy I will Gladly Joyn you_. I fear he will have more Goods in the Next Ship. I have Nothing to Add at this time only that I am with Great Esteem Your Assur'd Fr'd &c. T. H."

We may remark, that, if Longman were not by this time brought to be fully _Senceable_ of the sacrifices which had been made here for his interest, it was assuredly through no fault of his Boston customer. In a letter dated April 30, 1736, Hancock had felt emboldened to inform him,--

"I have Occasion for Tillotson's Works, Rapine's History of
England, Chamber's Dictionary & Burkitt on N. Testament for
my own use, and as the Burthen of y'e two Last years Sale
of Books & Returns for them has mostly Laine on my Self, &
as I have rec'd no Commitions, Some Debts yet outstanding,
and many books by me now on Sold, which shall be glad to
Sell for what I allowed you & now have paid for,--I say if
you'l please make a Present to me of y'e above named, or
any part of 'em They will be very Acceptable to me. My Last
to you was of y'e 10th & 14th Instent, which hope you have
Rec'd ere This & I am

"Your obliged Humb. Serv.

"T. H."

Once only, in the whole correspondence, are we able to find that this interloping caitiff of Cox's was fairly circumvented. With what an inward glow of satisfaction must our Boston bookseller have found himself sufficiently master of the situation to be able to write to Longman (under date of May 10th, 1739),--

"Pr. this Conveyance Messr's. Joseph Paine & Son of London
have Orders from this place to buy £50. Sterling worth of
Books; I have Engaged Mr. Cushing, who writes to Paine to
Order him to buy them of you, & that you would Use them
well, which I Desire you to Doe; it will be ready money & I
was Loth you should miss of it, (this is the Case,--_Cox's
man_ had Engaged to Send for them & let the Gentleman have
'em at the Sterling Cost,) but the Gentleman being my
friend, I interposed, & So Strongly Sollicited on your
behalf that I fix't it right at last & you may Certainly
depend on the Comition, tho' it may be needful you See Mr.
Paine as Soon as this Comes to hand. Pray procure me such a
Bible as you think may suit me & Send when Oppertunity
offers.

"I am S'r. &c. &c. T. H."

Longman's next trunk brings a copy of Chambers's Dictionary, then just published, as a present to Mr. Hancock, and we might almost fancy it an acknowledgment of this letter about the _Comition_ in more ways than one. We ought in justice to observe, however, that in those days, in the absence of any generally recognized and accepted standard of authority, gentlemen of the best condition in life appear to have felt at liberty to spell pretty much as they pleased, in New England. So far, at least, as Mr. Hancock's credit for orthography is concerned, it must be allowed, from his repeatedly spelling the same word in two or three different ways on the same page, that he probably gave the matter very little thought at any time,--taking as small pains as did Mr. Pepys, and really caring as little as Sir Thomas Browne for "the [Greek: batrachomyomachia] and hot skirmish betwixt S and T in Lucian, or how grammarians hack and slash for the genitive case of Jupiter."[1] That such spelling would hardly be admissible on India Wharf to-day, we freely admit,--nay, would even rush, were it necessary, to maintain,--but we must still claim for our favorite, that a century and a quarter agone he seems to have spelt about as well, on the whole, as the generality of his neighbors.

There is one most extraordinary _escapade_ of his, however, in this line of performance, which we do not know how we _can_ undertake wholly to defend. To Mr. John Rowe, a little doubtful about New-England Bills of Exchange, he writes,--"As to the £100 Draft of Mr. Faneuil's above mentioned, I doubt not but any merchant in London will take that Gentleman's Bill, when accepted, as Soon as a Bank Note,--he being the _Topinest_ merchant in this Country, & I Gave 20 per Cent Extra'y for it." If there be really a proper superlative of the adjective _topping_, our letter-writer, it must be confessed, has made a wide miss here of the mark he aimed at. "Priscian's a little scratch'd here,"--rather too much, indeed, even for 1739.

That the reader may not suspect Mr. Hancock of monopolizing all the cacography of his time, we give _verbatim_ the following letter from Christopher Kilby,[2] a letter among many of the same sort found with Mr. Hancock's papers.

"_London, 15 February 1727._

"HONEST FR'D. This not only advises you of my arrival but
acknowledges the rec't of your favour. By your desire I
waited upon Mr. Cox, & have told him and every body else,
where it was necessary, as much as you desired, & account it
part of my Felicity that I have so worthy a friend as Mr.
Hancock. When you arrive here you'l find things vastly
beyond your imagination,--I shall give you no other
Character of England than this, that it is beyond
expression, greater and finer than any thing I could ever
form an Idea of. I wish you may arrive before I leave it,
that you may with me, gaze and Wonder at a place that wee
can neither of us give a good Discripsion of. Pray present
my Services to Mr. Wood, Mr. Cunnington, and if Mr.
Leverett be not so engaged at the Annual meeting in Choosing
Hogg Constables &c. that to mention it to him might be an
interruption in so important affairs, my Service to him
also,--but rather than he shou'd loose any part of his
Pleasure while you take up his Time in doing it, I begg
you'l wait till a more leisure opportunity, when you may
assure him that I am at his Service in anything but being
Bread Weigher, Hogg Constable or any of those honourable
posts of pleasure & profit. I have nothing more to add but
Service to all friends, & assurance of my being

"Your sincere friend & very

"humble Servant,

"CHRIS'R. KILBY."

There is a letter in another book--Mr. Hancock's letter-book from 1740 to 1744--in which poetical justice to the arch-disturber of his peace is feelingly recorded. Cox[3] comes to grief at last,--surely, though late. Observe with what placid resignation Hancock regards his rival's mishap. The letter is to Longman, and bears date April 21st, 1742.

"----Thomas Cox has sent Orders to a Gentle'n here to
Receive from his man all his Effects,--the Shop is
Accordingly Shutt up, & I am told his man is absconded & has
Carried of all the money, I hear to the value of £500
Sterling; of Consequence a very bad Acco'tt must be
rendered to his Master & no doubt 't will put a final Stop
to his unjust proceedings & Trade to New-Eng'd. _I pray
God it may have this long wished for Effect_, the Good
fruits of which, I hope you & we shall soon partake of."

The correspondence with Longman is kept up with great activity through the whole of the first third of the volume before us. Gradually, however, Hancock had been growing into a larger way of business, and his Bills of Exchange for £500 and £600, drawn generally by Mr. Peter Faneuil,[4] begin to be of more frequent occurrence,--bills which he writes his London correspondents "are Certainly very Good, & will meet with Due Honour." We read here and there of ventures to _Medara_ and to _Surranam_, and of certain consignments of "Geese and Hogges to y'e New Found Land." "Be so Good," he says, in a letter of May 17th, 1740, to a friend then staying in London, "as to Interist me in y'e half of 8 or 10 Ticketts when any Lottery's going on, you think may doe, and am oblidged to you for mentioning your Kind intention herein. Please God y'e Young Eagle, Philip Dumerisque Com'r comes well home, and I believe I shall make no bad voyage." It is easy to see that the snug little business of the "Stationers' Arms" is soon to be given up, for what Drake[5] describes as "the more extensive field of mercantile enterprise."[6] By this time, too, the signs of the French War began to loom alarmingly upon the horizon of the little colony, and Hancock rose with the occasion to the character of a man of large and grave affairs. Cox's man, and his Trunks and Sortments of Books, appear, after this, to have but little of his attention. There was need of raising troops, and of fitting out vessels; and when the famous expedition against Louisburg was determined on, Hancock had a large share in the matter of providing its munitions and equipment. His correspondence with Sir William Pepperell in these great affairs still lies preserved in good order in boxes in the attic of the old mansion.

Meanwhile, as he rose in the world, he had been laying out his grounds, and building and furnishing his house; his first letter from which is addressed to his "Dear Friend," Christopher Kilby, then in London, and is dated, rather grandly, "At my house in Beacon Street, Boston y'e 22'd Mar. 1739-40." Let us look back, then, a little over the yellow, time-stained record of the letter-book before us, and see what were the experiences of a gentleman, in building and planting in Beacon Street, so long before our grandfathers were born.

Under date of the 5th of July, 1736, Hancock writes to his friend and constant correspondent in London, "Mr. Francis Wilks Esq'r,"[7] inclosing a letter to one James Glin at Stepney, with orders for some trees, concerning which he tells Wilks, "I am advised to have 'em bought,--but if you Can find any man Will Serve us Better I Leave it to your Pleasure." He must have thought it a great pity, from the sequel of this affair, that Mr. Wilks's Pleasure did not happen to lie in another direction. "I am Recommended by Mr. Tho's. Hubbard of This Town," runs the letter inclosed to Glin, "to you for A number of Fruit Trees,--be pleased to waite on Mr. Wilks for the Inv'o of them & Let me have y'e best Fruit, & pack't in y'e best manner, & All numbered, with an Acco't of y'e Same. I pray you be very Carefull That y'e Trees be Took up in y'e Right Season, and if these Answer my Expectations I shall want more, & 't will Ly in my way to Recommend Some Friends to you. I Intreat the Fruit may be the best of their Kind, the Trees handsome Stock, well Pack't, All N'o'd & Tally'd, & particular Inv'o of 'em. I am S'r. &c. &c. T. H."

This careful order was evidently duly executed by the nurseryman, and at first all appears to have gone smoothly enough, since, on the 20th of December following, (1736,) we find another letter to Glin, as follows:--

"SIR,--My Trees and Seeds pr. Cap't. Bennett Came Safe to
hand and I Like them very well. I Return you my hearty
Thanks for the Plumb Tree & Tulip Roots you were pleased to
make a Present off, which are very Acceptable to me. I have
Sent my friend Mr. Wilks a mem'o to procure for me 2 or 3
Doz. Yew Trees Some Hollys & Jessamin Vines & if you have
any Particular Curious Things not of a high price will
Beautifie a flower Garden, Send a Sample with the price or a
Catalogue of 'em; pray Send me a Catalogue also of what
Fruit you have that are Dwarf Trees and Espaliers. I shall
want Some next Fall for a Garden I am Going to lay out next
Spring. My Gardens all Lye on the South Side of a hill, with
the most Beautifull Assent to the Top & it's Allowed on all
hands the Kingdom of England don't afford So Fine a Prospect
as I have both of Land and water. Neither do I intend to
Spare any Cost or Pains in making my Gardens Beautifull or
Profitable. If you have any Knowlidge of S'r John James he
has been on the Spott & is perfectly acquainted with its
Situation & I believe has as high an Opinion of it as myself
& will give it as Great a Carrictor. Let me know also what
you'l Take for 100 Small Yew Trees in the Rough, which I'd
Frame up here to my own Fancy. If I can Do you any Service
here I shall be Glad & be Assured I'll not forgett your
Favour,--which being y'e needful Concludes,

"S'r.

"Your most Ob'edt. Servant,

"THO'S. HANCOCK."

But neither Esquire Hancock nor Mr. Glin at Stepney could control the force of Nature, or persuade the delicate fruit-trees of Old England to blossom and flourish here, even on the south side of Beacon Hill. The maxim, "_L'homme propose, et le bon Dieu dispose_," was found to be as inevitable in 1736 as it is in our later day and generation. It is true that no ancestral Downing was then at hand, with wise counsels of arboriculture, nor had any accidental progenitor of Sir Henry Stuart of Allanton as yet taught the Edinboro' public of the Pretender's time the grand secrets of transplanting and induration. Esquire Hancock, therefore, was left to work out by himself his own woful, but natural disappointment. On the 24th of June, 1737, he writes to the unfortunate nurseryman in a strain of severe, and, as he doubtless thought, of most righteous indignation.

"SIR,--I Rec'd. your Letter & your Baskett of flowers per.
Capt. Morris, & have Desired Francis Wilks Esq'r to pay
you £26 for them _Though they are Every one Dead_. The Trees
I Rec'd Last Year are above half Dead too,--the Hollys all
Dead but one, & worse than all is, the Garden Seeds and
Flower Seeds which you Sold Mr. Wilks for me Charged at £6.
8's. 2'd. Sterling were not worth one farthing. Not one
of all the Seeds Came up Except the Asparrow Grass, So that
my Garden is Lost to me for this Year. I Tryed the Seeds
both in Town and Country & all proved alike bad. I Spared
Mr. Hubbard part of them _and they All Serv'd him the
Same_." (Rather an unlucky blow this for poor Glin, as Mr.
Hubbard had been his first sponsor and perhaps his only
friend in New England.) "I think Sir, you have not done well
by me in this thing, for me to send a 1000 Leagues and Lay
out my money & be so used & Disapointed is very hard to
Bare, & so I doubt not but you will Consider the matter &
Send me over Some more of the Same Sort of Seeds that are
Good & Charge me nothing for them,--if you don't I shall
think you have imposed upon me very much, & 't will
Discourage me from ever Sending again for Trees or Seeds
from you. I Conclude,

"Your Humble Serv't.

"T. H.

"P. S. _The Tulip Roots you were pleased to make a present
off to me are all Dead as well._"

The last paragraph is truly delicious,--a real Parthian arrow, of the keenest, most penetrating kind. The ill-used gentleman is determined that poor Glin shall find no crumb of credit left,--not in the matter of the purchased wares alone, but even for the very presents that he had had the effrontery to send him.

After learning the opinion entertained by Mr. Hancock of his estate, its situation, prospect, and capacities, and understanding his intentions in regard to its improvement, as expressed in his first letter to Glin,--it may naturally be expected that we shall come upon some further allusions to the works he had thus taken in hand, in the antiquated volume before us. In this respect, as we turn over its remaining pages, we shall find that we are not to be disappointed. His letters on the subject, addressed to persons on the other side of the water, and particularly to the trusty Wilks, are, in fact, for the space of the next three or four years, most refreshingly abundant. Some of these are so minute, characteristic, and interesting, that we shall need no apology for transcribing them, most literally, here. On June 24th, 1737, he had written to Wilks,--

"This waites on you per M'r Francis Pelthro who has Taken
this Voyage to Lond'o. in order to be Cutt for y'e Stone
by D'r. Cheselden;[8] he Is my Friend & a Very honest
Gentleman. In case he needs your advise in any of his
affairs & _Calls on you for it_, I beg y'e fav'r of you
to do him what Service falls in your way, which Shall Take
as done to my Self, and as he's a Stranger, Should he have
occasion for Ten Guineas please to Let him have it & Charge
to my Acco't. I suppose he's sofficeint with him--Except
Some Extrordinary accidant happen.

"I beg your particular Care about my Glass, that it be the
best, and Every Square Cutt Exactly to the Size, & not to
worp or wind in the Least, & Pack't up So that it may take
no Damage on the passage,--it's for my Own Use & would have
it Extrordinary. I am S'r

"Your most oblid'gd obed. Sev't.

"T. H."

By one of those stupid accidents,--not, as we are sorry to record, altogether unknown to the business of house-building in our own day,--the memorandum previously sent for the glass turned out to be entirely incorrect. In less than a fortnight after, Mr. Hancock accordingly hastens to countermand his order, as follows:--

"_Boston, N.E. July 5'th. 1737._

FRANCIS WILKS, ESQ'R.

"S'R,--Sheperdson's Stay being Longer than Expected Brings
me to the 5'th of July, and if you have not bought my
Glass According to the Demention per Cap't. Morris I Pray
you to have no regard to those, but the following viz.

"380 Squares of best London Crown Glass all Cutt Exactly 18
Inches Long & 11-1/2 Inches wide of a Suitable Thickness to
the Largness of the Glass free from Blisters and by all
means be Carefull it don't wind or worp.--

"100 Squares Ditto 12 Inches Long 8-1/2 wide of the Same
Goodness as above.

"Our Friend Tylers Son William Comes per This Conveyance, I
only add what Service's you doe him will Assuredly be
Retaliated By his Father, & will Oblidge S'r

"Your most Obedient Hum'e Serv't

"T. H."

The window-glass being fairly off his mind, Mr. Hancock next turns his attention to the subject of wall-papers, on which head he comes out in the most strong and even amazing manner. We doubt if the documentary relics of the last century can show anything more truly _genre_ than the following letter "To Mr. John Rowe, Stationer, London," dated

"_Boston, N. E. Jan. 23'd. 1737-8._

"Sir,--Inclosed you have the Dimentions of a Room for a
Shaded Hanging to be Done after the Same Pattorn I have
Sent per Capt. Tanner, who will Deliver it to you. It's for
my own House, & Intreat the favour of you to Get it Done for
me, to Come Early in the Spring, or as Soon as the nature of
the Thing will admitt. The pattorn is all was Left of a Room
Lately Come over here, & it takes much in y'e Town & will
be the only paper-hanging for Sale here wh. am of Opinion
may Answer well. Therefore desire you by all means to Get
mine well Done & as Cheap as Possible, & if they can make it
more Beautifull by adding more Birds flying here & there,
with Some Landskip at the Bottom should Like it well. Let
the Ground be the Same Colour of the Pattorn. At the Top &
Bottom was a narrow Border of about 2 Inches wide wh. would
have to mine. About 3 or 4 Years ago my friend Francis Wilks
Esq'r. had a hanging Done in the Same manner but much
handsomeer Sent over here for M'r Sam'l Waldon of this
place, made by one Dunbar in Aldermanbury, where no doubt he
or Some of his Successors may be found. In the other parts
of these Hangings are Great Variety of Different Sorts of
Birds, Peacocks, Macoys, Squirril, Monkys, Fruit & Flowers
&c, But a Greater Variety in the above mentioned of Mr.
Waldon's & Should be fond of having mine done by the Same
hand if to be mett with. I design if this pleases me to have
two Rooms more done for myself. I Think they are handsomer &
Better than Painted hangings Done in Oyle, so I Beg your
particular Care in procuring this for me, & that the
pattorns may be Taken Care off & Return'd with my Goods.
Henry Atkins has Ordered Mr. Tho's. Pike of Pool[9] to pay
you £10 in Liew of the Bill you Returned Protested Drawn by
Sam'll Pike, which hope you'l Receive. Inclosed you have
also Crist'o Kilby's Draft on King Gould Esq'r. for £10
wh. will meet with Due Honour. Design to make you Some other
Remittence in a Little Time. Interim Remain S'r. Your
Assured Fr'd & Hum'e. Servt.

"T. H."

There are certain other adornments about the Hancock House, besides the glass and the wall-papers, which were somewhat beyond the skill of New-England artificers of that time. Another of these exotic features is fully accounted for in the following extract from a letter to "Dear Kilby," dated

"22'd Mar. 1739-40.

"I Pray the favour of you to Enquire what a pr. of Capitolls
will Cost me to be Carved in London, of the Corinthian
Order, 16-1/2 Inches One Way and 9 y'e Other,--to be well
Done. Please to make my Compliments Acceptable to Mr. Wilks,
& believe me to be

"S'r.

"Your assu'd. Friend & very

"Hum'e. Sev't.

"T. H."

One more commission for the trusty Wilks remained. It was said of Mr. Hancock, long afterward, in one of the obituary notices called forth by his sudden demise, that "his house was the seat of hospitality, where all his numerous acquaintances and strangers of distinction met with an elegant reception." With a wise prevision, therefore, of the properties necessary to support the character and carry on the business of so bountiful a _cuisine_, we find him, under cover of a letter of May 24th, 1738, inclosing an order in these terms:--

"1 Middle Size Jack of 3 Guineas price,--Good works, with Iron Barrell, a wheel-fly & Spitt Chain to it."

Several other passages, scattered here and there in these letters, certainly go far to justify a reputation for the love of good cheer on the part of their writer. Throughout all of them, indeed, we are not without frequent indications of "a careful attention to and a laudable admiration of good, sound, hearty eating and drinking." Thus, in a postscript to one of his favors to Wilks, he adds,--"I Desire you also to send me a Chest of Lisbon Lemons for my own use." And again, in a letter to Captain Partington, master of one of his vessels, then in Europe, he writes,--"When you come to any Fruit Country, Send or bring me 2 or 4 Chests of Lemmons, for myself & the Officers of this Port, & Take the Pay out of the Cargo." Alas, that the Plantation Rum Punch of those days should now perforce be included among Mr. Phillips's Lost Arts! He sends a consignment with an order "To Messers Walter & Rob't. Scott," as follows:--"I have the favour to ask of you, when please God the Merch'dse Comes to your hands, that I may have in return the best Sterling Medara Wines for my own use,--I don't Stand for any Price, provided the Quality of the wine Answers to it. My view in Shipping now is only for an Oppertunity to procure the best wine for my own use, in which you will much oblidge me." And about the same time he orders from London "1 Box Double flint Glass ware. 6 Quart Decanters. 6 Pint do. 2 doz. handsome, new fash'd wine Glasses, 6 pair Beakers, Sorted, all plain, 2 pr. pint Cans, 2 pr. 1/2 pint do. 6 Beer Glasses, 12 Water Glasses & 2 Doz. Jelly Glasses." Well might he write to Kilby, not long after, "We live Pretty comfortable here now, on Beacon Hill."

There is a graphic minuteness about all these trivial directions, which takes us more readily behind the curtain of Time than the most elaborate and dignified chronicles could possibly do. The Muse of History is no doubt a most stately and learned lady,--she looks very splendid in her royal attitudes on the ceilings of Blenheim and in the galleries of Windsor; but can her pompous old _stylus_ bring back for us the every-day work and pleasure of these bygone days,--paint for us the things that come home so nearly "to men's business and bosoms,"--or show us the inner life and the real action of these hearty, jolly old times, one-half so well as the simple homeliness of these careless letters? We seem to see in them the countenances of the people of those long buried years, and to catch the very echo of their voices, in the daily walk of their pleasant and hearty lives. "The dialect and costume," said Mr. Hazlitt, "the wars, the religion, and the politics of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries" (and we may now venture to add for him, of the earlier half of the eighteenth) "give a charming and wholesome relief to the fastidious refinement and over-labored lassitude of modern readers. Antiquity, after a time, has the grace of novelty, as old fashions revived are mistaken for new ones." In the present instance this seems to us to be, more than usually, the effect of Hancock's quaint and downright style. All these letters of his, in fact, are remarkable for one thing, even beyond the general tenor of the epistolary writing of his time, and that is their _directness_. He is the very antipode to Don Adriano in "Love's Labor's Lost"; never could it be said of him that "he draweth out the thread of his verbosity finer than the staple of his argument." He does not leave his correspondents to grope their way to his meaning by inferences,--_he comes to the point_. If he likes more "Macoys, Squirril & Monkys" in his wallpaper than his neighbors,--if he thinks Cox's man ought to be abated, or Glin to do the handsome thing by him, he says so, point-blank, and there's an end.

----"He pours out all, as plain
As downright Shippen, or as old Montaigne."

Perhaps the particular phase of change which the language itself was going through at the time may assist in giving these letters, to us, something of their air of genuine force and originality. But after making due allowance for the freshness of a vocabulary as yet unimpeded by any cumbrous burden of euphemism, we are still convinced that we must recognize the source of much of the quality we have noted only in the _naïve_ and outspoken nature of the writer. For, if ever there was a man who knew just what he wanted and just how he wanted it, it was the T. H. of the amusing correspondence before us.

Thus lived, for some quarter of a century more, this cheery and prosperous gentleman, growing into a manly opulence, and enjoying to the full the pleasant "seate of self-fruition" which he had so carefully set up for himself on Beacon Hill. Not much addressing himself, indeed, to "looking abroad into universality," as Bacon calls it, but rather honestly and heartily "doing his duty in that state of life unto which it had pleased God to call him." He filled various posts of honor and dignity meanwhile,--always prominent, and even conspicuous, in the public eye,--and was "one of His Majesty's Council" at the commencement of the troubles which led to the War of the Revolution. The full development of this mighty drama, however, Thomas Hancock did not live to see. He died of an apoplexy, on the first day of August, 1764, about three of the clock in the afternoon, having been seized about noon of the same day, just as he was entering the Council Chamber. He was then in the sixty-second year of his age. By his will he gave one thousand pounds sterling for the founding of a professorship of the Oriental languages in Harvard College, one thousand pounds lawful money to the Society for Propagating the Gospel among the Indians, six hundred pounds to the town of Boston, towards an Insane Hospital, and two hundred pounds to the Society for carrying on the Linen Manufactory,--an enterprise from which much appears, just then, to have been expected. His property was valued, after his decease, at about eighty thousand pounds sterling,--a very much larger sum for that time than its precise money equivalent would represent at the present day. Having no issue of his own, he left the bulk of his estate to his nephew John,--a gentleman who, without a tithe of the nerve and pith and vigor of this our Thomas, has yet happened, from the circumstances of the time in which he bore up the family-fortunes, to have acquired a much more distinguished name and filled a much larger space in the tablets of History than has ever fallen to the share of his stout old uncle.