University of Virginia Library

21. CHAPTER XXI.

The first of June, 1689, was set apart by the people
of Massachusetts for a grand jubilee of Freedom;
for the example of her revolution, conceived and
perfected by her hardy children, without the concert
or co-operation of the other colonies, spread with wondrous
rapidity, and extended “to the Chesapeake and
to the wilderness.”

It is difficult to overrate the importance of this first

great democratic movement in America; for it is not
saying too much, to ascribe to that, the paralysis
with which kingly assumption was first smitten in
the new world. True, it partially recovered from
the shock, and the third George of England beleived
that its vigour was fully restored, and he overtasked
its strength accordingly; but the sublime
will of a virtuous people smote down the palsied
monster a second time, and it has been lingering on
the shadowy borders of eternal death ever since.
Nor is it wrong to give the people of Massachusetts
the highest praise for the glorious stand they took
in this bold stroke for Liberty. Honored forever
be her children, and may the memory of their fathers
save them from narrow-minded prejudice and
illiberal policy. Wo unto them, when Bunker-Hill
shall be levelled into house-lots; when the muck-rake
disinters their bones who fell at her Marathon!
The golden calf will then have been erected within
view of the lightnings of her own Sinai. Should
that day ever come, which God forbid, what thenceforth
could be expected from Massachusetts?—“They
who never look back to their ancestors,” says Burke,
“will rarely look forward to posterity.”

The first of June was ushered in by the roar of artillery,
the ringing of bells, and all those demonstrations
of popular joy, which the elder Adams foretold
would be the heralds in after years of the anniversary
of the memorable fourth of July, '76. The town of

Boston was not polluted on that day by the presence
of one of her enemies; Andros and his coadjutors
having been all sent home to England.

Preparation had been made for a grand procession
of citizens, who with music and banners were to
march through the town and dine together under a
spacious tent in the Common. We well remember
sitting down with four thousand people under one
tent on Bunker-Hill, when the surviving heroes of
that great battle dined with Lafayette. Such a tent
as that was spread on Boston Common for the first
jubilee of Freedom.

The procession was formed at 12 o'clock, by the
marshals of the day, and first of all went the Boston
regiment, with martial music, under the command
of its reinstated officers. Next followed the venerable
governor, Simon Bradstreet, with other subordinate
civil officers; the reverend clergy succeeded,
followed by the magistrates. Next came a thousand
children dressed in white and blue, their heads girt
with chaplets of roses, and round their necks a
miniature copy of the Declaration of Liberty,
bound in red morocco, hanging by a blue ribbon:
next to these followed a long line of ladies, four
abreast, dressed in white, their heads also adorned
with white roses. Succeeding these came all the
different mechanics, who were marshalled according
to their trades, and in the midst of each company
came a large staging drawn by eight horses, on which

the peculiar business of the trade was exhibited.
Similar processions have taken place on extraordinary
occasions since. There were seen carpenters and
masons, and blacksmiths, wheel-wrights, et cetera,
busily employed, and their carriages all bore the
mottos, “Life without liberty is intolerable,” “Liberty
now and forever!” The companies of the mechanics
was followed by a long procession on foot,
and this was terminated by a cavalcade as extensive.

Among the young ladies whose charms were exhibited
on the occasion, Grace Wilmer shone with
transcendent beauty. She was one of the few who
rodein carriages which were adorned with flowers and
flags, intertwined and gracefully arranged. Seymour
sat opposite to her, entranced no less by her
fascinations, than by the patriotic excitement of
the day. Her father had been forgiven for being
one of Sir Edmund Andros's council, for it was soon
made manifest, that it had been through his influence
alone that still harsher measures were not pursued
by the tyrant. He was not only forgiven, but rewarded
and elected to a magistracy.

The procession marched round the Common and
enterng at one of its upper gates formed an extended
circle within the wide inclosure. In the centre of
this a chair was placed, to which the venerable
Bradstreet was conducted by Mr. Temple. As the
excellent patriarch took his seat, the acclamations of

the people were unbounded. The ladies waved their
handkerchiefs, and scattered garlands before him.
The music poured forth its most animating sounds,
and the roar of the artillery was echoed far and wide,
from the walls of the vast natural amphitheatre of
which Boston Common is the arena. The majestic
trees, that with double rows of dark green foliage
then girdled that delicious spot, served as a background
from every point of view, to the most enlivening
and spirit-stirring picture that was ever exhibited
in America.

In the centre of the Common was erected a triumphal
arch, adorned with flags and oak-leaves, from
which swung banners bearing patriotic inscriptions,
while on one side of the arch the words “Renunciation
not Assumption!” and on the other “Massachusetts
and Liberty!” were emblazoned in
golden characters.

On both sides of the venerable governor were seated
a number of the most distinguished persons, principally
Boston mechanics, through whose instrumentality
the revolution had been chiefly effected. On a signal
given by six trumpeters who came forward from
behind the governor's chair on horseback, and woke
the echoes through their brazen instruments, a number
of ladies, corresponding to the number of the chief
patriots, came forward, each one accompanied by a
little girl fancifully adorned, who held in her hand a

garland made of the leaves of the American Elm, the
emblem of patriotism.

The trumpets now sounded again, when the little
band of patriots knelt before the ladies, who, taking
the garlands from the hands of their young attendants,
placed them on the heads of the heroes, among
whom Randal and his friend Bagnal were conspicuous.

But this part of the ceremony was not yet completed.
The band of patriots, having been honored by
so great a distinction, bowed to the ladies and resumed
their seats, still wearing their garlands of living
green, the acclamations of their fellow-citizens resounding
far and wide: when the Governor rising,
remarked that there was still another person, who,
though a stranger and an Englishman, had been of
indispensable importance in the glorious achievement
of the Revolution, and he requested to know what
distinguished honor should be shown to him.

A murmur of interest ran through the vast assemblage
as the subject of the patriarch's address became
known, and it was suggested by some of the most influential
persons present, that it should be proposed
as the most suitable honor that could be conferred
upon him, to select the most beautiful and accomplished
maiden present, to crown him as the others
had been crowned, with the elm garland, and that he
should lead the procession through the triumphal
arch.

As soon as this proposal was made known to the
people, their approbation was manifested by the loudest
cheering, and every eye was at once directed towards
the imperial beauty, whose excellence was known
and admitted by all. Grace blushed deeply, for she
could not misunderstand the compliment, and she
was presently led forth by Mr. Temple, amidst the
deafening plaudits of the multitude, accompanied by
a young girl, who like the other attendants, held the
crown of patriotism in her hand.

In the meantime, the dignified and venerable
chief-magistrate gave his hand to Fitzvassal, who,
amidst the reiterated shouts of the people, came forward
modestly to receive his garland. Without raising
his eyes from the ground, he knelt, while the majestic
beauty advanced.

“Receive,” said she, her voice trembling with emotion,
“receive the reward of virtuous endeavor!—
The people of Massachusetts, in awarding to you the
garland of patriotism—adopt you as their son and
brother!”

The garland was then placed upon Fitzvassal's
brow, and as it fell there, he raised his eyes to the donor.
A tear was trembling on their lids, and as the
gentle being who stood before him observed it, a thousand
mingled emotions crowded to her bosom, in spite
of the distracting causes around her.

“This,” thought Fitzvassal, “is worse than the
bitterness of death!” it seemed to him as if the skeleton

of Hope were mocking him with grave-garlands.
As her hand passed down again without the wreath
she had held, a solitary tear fell upon her hand, and
rivalled for a moment the jewel that adorned it.

Grace courtsied and withdrew, and as the supposed
Captain Nix was conducted back to his chair, once
more arose the rapturous acclamations of the multitude,
who little imagined what lacerated feelings were
torturing the objects of their applause.

The procession was now once more formed, and
Fitzvassal taking the lead, his head encircled with the
elm-garland, marched to the sound of heart-thrilling
music through the triumphal arch, while the ladies,
counter-marching on both sides, strewed the way
with roses.

The banquet was in the meantime made ready,
and the company who had been provided with cards
of admission were seated. On a platform in the
centre, elevated several feet above the other tables,
that they might be seen by all the guests, sat the little
company of garlanded patriots, among whom
Fitzvassal was conspicuous on account of his youth
and manly elegance. He was, indeed, “the observed
of all observers,” and as the toasts went round,
the health of the brave Captain Nix was received
with marked distinction.

As the hours rolled by, amidst the excitement of
the music and the wine, and the flow of feeling and
patriotic enthusiasm which made the very atmosphere

exhilarating to those who inhabited it, Fitzvassal
forgot his cares, and gave full swing to his
present emotions. Never had he appeared to such
advantage. His face beamed with pleasure as he
drank deeply of those allurements for which he had
in his more aspiring moments panted.

The reputed Captain Nix had just been called on
by the toast-master, and was in the act of offering a
sentiment, when two sturdy officers of justice entered
the tent, and going immediately up to him, asked
unceremoniously if his name were Edward Fitzvassal!

Thunderstruck with the question, the buccaneer
turned pale as death. The company, waiting for his
toast, were so silent that a whisper might have been
heard from any part of the table. They all heard
the question of the officers, and were filled with
amazement. It was repeated.

“Is your name Edward Fitzvassal?”

Fitzvassal gazed upon them an instant—and their
object at once flashed upon his mind. But he read
in their looks determination, and after a moments'
hesitation, replied:

“Yes! it is Edward Fitzvassal!—and what
then?”

“You are arrested on the charge of piracy!” exclaimed
one of the officers, exhibiting a magistrate's
warrant—“and you must go with us to answer to
the accusation!”

A cry of astonishment and dismay ran through the
crowded company, and exclamations of “impossible!”
“shame! shame!” “turn the scroundels out!”
were reiterated from every part of the table; but
when they saw the accused with his head bowed
down to his bosom, and his hands clasped together
with the resignation of despair, following the officers
with apparent willingness,—a change came over
their feelings, and they looked at each other, as if
they were waiting, after the shock of an earthquake,
for something more appalling to follow.

Such was the effect of this extraordinary incident,
that the festivities of the day were suddenly broken
up, and the guests retired from the tables wondering
and conjecturing among themselves, what could be
the meaning of so singular an affair. If their patriarchal
governor had himself been accused of felony,
they could hardly have been more incredulous and
astounded. Here was a man who had been recommended
to the favor of Massachusetts by one of the
first baronets of England, and who had taken a conspicuous
and important part in her glorious revolution,
now under arrest, and in the hands of justice,
on a charge of piracy!

The news of the arrest spread on the wings of the
wind, and before night, it was the absorbing topic of
conversation.

“I thought,” said Saultz, rolling his goggle eyes,
and cramming his nose with snuff; “I thought it

would turn out so; for you remember, Debby, what
I told you when such heaps of gold came into the
shop all at once!”

“Lord'a massy on us!” replied Mistress Debora, “I
do remember now you mention it, that he smelt very
strong of tar! Dear me, what are we all a-coming
to!”