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