Daughters of the Revolution and Their Times Part 1

Daughters of the Revolution and Their Times.

by Charles Carleton Coffin.

INTRODUCTION.

No period in the history of our country surpa.s.ses in interest that immediately preceding and including the beginning of the Revolutionary War. Many volumes have been written setting forth the patriotism and heroism of the fathers of the Republic, but the devotion of the mothers and daughters has received far less attention. _This_ volume is designed, therefore, to portray in some degree their influence in the struggle of the Colonies to attain their independence. The narration of events takes the form of a story--a slight thread of romance being employed, rather than didactic narrative, to more vividly picture the scenes and the parts performed by the actors in the great historic drama. It will not be difficult for the reader to discern between the facts of history and the imaginative parts of the story.

Eminent educators have expressed the opinion that history may be more successfully taught through the medium of fiction than by any other form of diction. The novels of Sir Walter Scott, notably "Waverley,"

"Ivanhoe," are cited as presenting pictures of the times more effectively than any purely historic volume. The same may be said of "Uncle Tom's Cabin," as ill.u.s.trating the state of affairs in our own country preceding the War of the Rebellion. It may be questioned whether any work of fiction in the world's history has been so far-reaching in its influence as that portrayal of the inst.i.tution of slavery by Mrs. Stowe. Believing that the spirit of the times can be best pictured by the employment of romance, I have adopted that form of narrative.

The story opens in the fall of 1769. The Stamp Act had been repealed, and the irritation produced by that act had been allayed. It was a period of quiet and rest. The colonists still regarded themselves as Englishmen and loyal to the crown. Information came that His Majesty George III. was determined to maintain his right to tax the Colonies by imposing an export duty on tea, to be paid by the exporter, who, in turn, would charge it to the consumer. The first resistance to that claim was the agreement of all but six of the merchants of Boston not to import tea from England, and the agreement of their wives and daughters not to drink tea so imported. It was a resistance which had its outcome in the destruction of three cargoes of tea by the historic "Tea-Party,"--a resistance which became equally effective in the other Colonies, if less dramatic than in Boston. The determination of the mothers and daughters to abstain from its use brought about a change in social life, and was influential in awakening a public sentiment which had its legitimate outcome in the events at Lexington, Concord, and Bunker Hill.

There were causes other than the Stamp Act, Writs of a.s.sistance, and the Tax on Tea, which brought about the Revolution.

"Whoever would comprehend the causes which led to the struggle of the Colonies for independence," says John Adams, "must study the Acts of the Board of Trade."

In this volume I have endeavored to briefly present some of those acts, in the conversation of Sam Adams with Robert Walden, that the school children of the country may have a comprehension of the underlying causes which brought about resistance to the tyranny of the mother country. The injustice of the laws had its legitimate result in a disregard of moral obligations, so that smuggling was regarded as a virtuous act.

In no history have I been able to find an account of the tragic death and dramatic burial of the schoolboy Christopher Snider, given in chapter VIII. It was the expression of sympathy by the people in following the body of the murdered boy from the Liberty Tree to the burial-place that intensified the antagonism between the citizens and the soldiers of the Fourteenth and Twenty-ninth regiments of the king's troops, which led, the following week, to the Ma.s.sacre of March 5, 1770. Bancroft barely mentions the name of Snider; other historians make no account of the event.

To explain the motives and the play of forces which brought about the Revolution, I have endeavored to set forth society as it was not only in Boston but in Parliament and at the Court of George III. Most historians of the Revolutionary period regard the debt incurred by Great Britain in the conquest of Canada as the chief cause of the war, through the attempt of the mother country, subsequently, to obtain revenue from the Colonies; but a study of the times gives conclusive evidence that a large portion of the indebtedness was caused by mismanagement and the venality and corruption of Parliament.

To set forth the extravagance and frivolity of society surrounding King George, I have employed Lord Upperton and his companion, Mr.

Dapper, as narrators. The student of history by turning to Jessee's "Life and Times of George III.," Molloy's "Court Life Below Stairs,"

Waldegrave's "Memoirs," Horace Walpole's writings, and many other volumes, will find ample corroboration of any statement made in this volume.

The period was characterized by sublime enthusiasm, self-sacrifice, and devotion, not only by the patriots but by loyalists who conscientiously adhered to the crown. In our admiration of those who secured the independence of the Colonies, we have overlooked the sacrifices and sufferings of the loyalists;--their distress during the siege of Boston, the agony of the hour when suddenly confronted with the appalling fact that they must become aliens, exiles, and wanderers, leaving behind all their possessions and estates,--an hour when there was a sundering of tender ties, the breaking of hearts.

I have endeavored to make the recital of events strictly conformable with historic facts by consulting newspapers, doc.u.ments, almanacs, diaries, genealogical records, and family histories.

It was my great privilege in boyhood to hear the story of the battle of Bunker Hill told by three men who partic.i.p.ated in the fight.--Eliakim Walker, who was in the redoubt under Prescott, Nathaniel Atkinson and David Flanders, who were under Stark, by the rail fence. They were near neighbors, pensioners of the government, and found pleasure in rehearsing the events of the Revolutionary War.

My grandfather, Eliphalet Kilburn, was at Winter Hill at the time of the battle.

It was also my privilege to walk over Bunker Hill with Richard Frothingham, author of the "Siege of Boston," whose home was on the spot where Pigot's brigade was cut down by the withering fire from the redoubt. Mr. Frothingham had conversed with many old pensioners who were in the redoubt at the time of the battle. In my account of the engagement I have endeavored to picture it in accordance with the various narratives.

I hardly need say that Ruth Newville, Berinthia Brandon, and Mary Shrimpton are typical characters, representing the young women of the period,--a period in which families were divided, parents adhering to King George, sons and daughters giving their allegiance to Liberty.

I am under obligations to the proprietors of the "Memorial History of Boston" for the portrait of Mrs. Joseph Warren. The portrait of Dorothy Quincy is from that in possession of the Bostonian Society; that of Mrs. John Adams from her "Life and Letters."

The historic houses are from recent photographs.

I trust the reader will not regard this volume wholly as a romance, but rather as a presentation of the events, scenes, incidents, and spirit of the people at the beginning of the Revolution.

CHARLES CARLETON COFFIN.

DAUGHTERS OF THE REVOLUTION.

I.

ROBERT WALDEN GOES TO MARKET.

Joshua Walden, of Rumford, Province of New Hampshire, was receiving letters from Samuel Adams and Doctor Joseph Warren in relation to the course pursued by King George III. and his ministers in collecting revenue from the Colonies. Mr. Walden had fought the French and Indians at Ticonderoga and Crown Point in the war with France. The gun and powder-horn which he carried under Captain John Stark were hanging over the door in his kitchen. His farm was on the banks of the Merrimac. The stately forest trees had fallen beneath the st.u.r.dy blows of his axe, and the sun was shining on intervale and upland, meadow and pasture which he had cleared. His neighbors said he was getting forehanded. Several times during the year he made a journey to Boston with his cheeses, beef, pigs, turkeys, geese, chickens, a barrel of apple-sauce, bags filled with wool, together with webs of linsey-woolsey spun and woven by his wife and daughter. He never failed to have a talk with Mr. Adams and Doctor Warren, John Hanc.o.c.k, and others foremost in resisting the aggressions of the mother country upon the rights and liberties of the Colonies. When at home he was up early in the morning, building the fire, feeding the cattle, and milking the cows. Mrs. Walden, the while, was stirring the corn meal for a johnny-cake, putting the potatoes in the ashes, placing the Dutch oven on the coals, hanging the pots and kettles on the hooks and trammels.

Robert, their only son, twenty years old, would be glad to take another nap after being called by his father, but felt it would not be manly for one who had mowed all the hired men out of their swaths in the hayfield, and who had put the best wrestler in Rumford on his back, to lie in bed and let his father do all the ch.o.r.es, with the cows lowing to get to the pasture. With a spring he was on his feet and slipping on his clothes. He was soon on his way to the barn, drumming on the tin pail and whistling as he walked to the milking.

The cows turned into pasture, he rubbed down the mare Jenny and the colt Paul, fed the pigs, washed his face and hands, and was ready for breakfast.

It would not have been like Rachel Walden, the only daughter, eighteen years old, to lie in bed and let her mother do all the work about the house. She came from her chamber with tripping steps, as if it were a pleasure to be wide awake after a good sleep. She fed the chickens, set the table, raked the potatoes from the ashes, drew a mug of cider for her father. When breakfast was ready, they stood by their chairs while Mr. Walden asked a blessing. The meal finished, he read a chapter in the Bible and offered prayer. When the "Amen" was said, Mr. Walden and Robert put on their hats and went about their work.

Mrs. Walden pa.s.sed upstairs to throw the shuttle of the loom. Rachel washed the dishes, wheyed the curd, and prepared it for the press, turned the cheeses and rubbed them with fat. That done, she set the kitchen to rights, made the beds, sprinkled clean sand upon the floor, wet the web of linen bleaching on the gra.s.s in the orchard, then slipped upstairs and set the spinning-wheel to humming. His neighbors said that Mr. Walden was thrifty and could afford to wear a broadcloth blue coat with bright bra.s.s b.u.t.tons on grand occasions, and that Mrs.

Walden was warranted in having a satin gown.

Haying was over. The rye was reaped, the wheat and oats were harvested, and the flax was pulled. September had come,--the time when Mr. Walden usually went to Boston with the cheese.

"Father," said Rachel at dinner, "I wish you would take the cheeses to market. It is hard work to turn so many every day."

Mr. Walden sat in silence awhile. "Robert," he said at length, "how would you like to try your hand at truck and d.i.c.ker?"

"If you think I can do it I will try," Robert replied, surprised at the question, yet gratified.

"Of course you can do it. You can figure up how much a cheese that tips the steelyard at twenty pounds and three ounces will come to at three pence ha'penny per pound. You know, or you ought to know, the difference between a pistareen and a smooth-faced shilling. When you truck and d.i.c.ker, you've got to remember that the other feller is doing it all the time, while you will be as green as a pumpkin in August. When you are tasting 'la.s.ses, you must run a stick into the bung-hole of the barrel clear down to the bottom and then lift it up and see if it is thick or thin. T'other feller will want you to taste it at the spiggot, where it will be almost sugar. When you are selecting dried codfish, look sharp and not let him give you all damp ones from the bottom of the pile, neither the little scrimped ones from the top. Of course you will get cheated, but you have got to begin knocking about some time. You're old enough to have your eye teeth cut. You can put Jenny up at the Green Dragon and visit Cousin Jedidiah Brandon on Copp's Hill, see the ships he is building, visit with Tom and Berinthia. Tom, I guess, is going to be a chip of the old block, and Berinthia is a nice girl. Take your good clothes along in your trunk, so after you get through handling the cheese you can dress like a gentleman. I want you to pick out the best cheese of the lot and give it to Samuel Adams, also another to Doctor Warren, with my compliments. You can say to Mr. Adams I would like any information he can give about what is going on in London relative to taxing the Colonies. He is very kind, and possibly may ask you to call upon him of an evening, for he is very busy during the day. Doctor Warren is one of the kindest-hearted men in the world, and chuck full of patriotism. He will give a hearty shake to your hand.

"You had better mouse round the market awhile before trading. John Hanc.o.c.k bought my last load. His store is close by Faneuil Hall. He is rich, inherited his property from his uncle. He lives in style in a stone house on Beacon Hill. He is liberal with his money, and is one of the few rich men in Boston who take sides with the people against the aggressions of King George and his ministers. Mr. Adams begins to be gray, but Warren and Hanc.o.c.k are both young men. They are doing grand things in maintaining the rights of the Colonies. I want you to make their acquaintance. By seeing and talking with such men you will be worth more to yourself and everybody else. Your going to market and meeting such gentlemen will be as good as several months of school.

You'll see more people than you ever saw on the muster-field; ships from foreign lands will be moored in the harbor. You'll see houses by the thousand, meetinghouses with tall steeples, and will hear the bells ring at five o'clock in the morning, getting-up time, at noon for dinner, and at nine in the evening, bed-time. Two regiments of redcoats are there. The latest news is that they are getting sa.s.sy. I can believe it. At Ticonderoga and Crown Point they used to put on airs, and call the Provincials "string-beans," "polly-pods," "slam bangs." They turned up their noses at our buckskin breeches, but when it came to fighting we showed 'em what stuff we were made of. Don't let 'em pick a quarrel, but don't take any sa.s.s from 'em. Do right by everybody."

"I will try to do right," Robert replied.

The sun was rising the next morning when Robert gathered up the reins and stood ready to step into the wagon which had been loaded for the market.

"You have three dozen new milk cheeses," said Rachel, "and two and one half dozen of four meal. I have marked the four meals with a cross in the centre, so you'll know them from the new milk. There are sixteen greened with sage. They look real pretty. I have put in half a dozen skims; somebody may want 'em for toasting."

"You will find," said Mrs. Walden, "a web of linsey-woolsey in your trunk with your best clothes, and a dozen skeins of wool yarn. It is lamb's wool. I've doubled and twisted it, and I don't believe the women will find in all Boston anything softer or nicer for stockings."

"I have put up six quarts of caraway seed," said Rachel. "I guess the bakers will want it to put into gingerbread. And I have packed ten dozen eggs in oats, in a basket. They are all fresh. You can use the oats to bait Jenny with on your way home."

"There are two bushels of beans," said Mr. Walden, "in that bag,--the one-hundred-and-one kind,--and a bushel and three pecks of clover seed in the other bag. You can get a barrel of 'la.s.ses, half a quintal of codfish, half a barrel of mackerel, and a bag of Turk's Island salt."

"Don't forget," said Mrs. Walden, "that we want some pepper, spice, cinnamon, nutmegs, cloves, and some of the very best Maccaboy snuff.

Oh, let me see! I want a new foot-stove. Our old one is all banged up, and I am ashamed to be seen filling it at noon in winter in Deacon Stonegood's kitchen, with all the women looking on, and theirs spick and span new."

"Father and mother have told me what they want, and now what shall I get for you, Rachel?" Robert asked of his sister.