University of Virginia Library

4. CHAPTER IV.
THE PORTRAITS.

THE young artisan gazed upon the portraits of his country's tyrants
with deep interest, and feelings of stern indignation rose
in his bosom at the reflection that through their agency, the colonies
were in danger of losing those liberties which the pilgrim-fathers
had purchased with privations and self-denial unparalleled in the
foundation of a new state. He was not, without feelings of deep restraint
against the governor himself, who, having given himself to the
examination of some papers after his daughter had walked aside with
him, seemed to forget their presence. His resentment towards him
were, however, modified by regard for his daughter, whom he had
not ceased to remember with a sort of romantic devotion, since the
time he had been the instrument of her rescue. It was for her sake
he had sought the presence of her father, resolved to endeavor to
move him to measures less violent than those he was pursuing; for
he saw that the vengeance of the people would by-and-bye outbreak
upon his head, and that the innocent child would be involved in the
ruin of the guilty parent. For her sake he had spoken so boldly and
earnestly; though at the basis of all lay a sincere and earnest desire
to benefit his fellow-colonists. The idea of resistance to the despotism
of Great Britain by arms, had not been thought of, even amid the
intense excitement of the day past. Men breathed aloud their sense
of injustice of the ministry, and spoke boldly of their determination to
resist the operation of the new law; but petitions, remonstrances,
committees to wait on the king, these only were the arms they thought
of to save their liberties from destruction. It was ten years prior to
the declaration of independence, the seeds of which eventful act were
sown this day in the bosoms of the patriotic colonists. They did not,
however, foresee the important issues; few, very few bold and fore-sighted
minds, only, had the least conception of such a vast result.

Among those who most firmly spoke agianst the injustice of the law,
were men fondly attached to the king and mother-country, who felt
themselves a part of the great empire, and loved England, the home of
their fathers, the endeared “mother-land,” with an affection nearly
equal to the soil on which they were born. But these men were not
Englishmen in slavish submission to power. They loved liberty.
They had tasted its sweetness in freedom from the oppressive taxes
under which the people in the mother-country groaned, and they had
jealously resisted, by respectful petition, every attempt of the ministry,
hitherto, to lay upon them the same burdens.

When the report that a bill to levy a stamp-duty upon all written or
printed papers in the colonies reached them, the return ship took back
back earnest petitions, praying that such a bill might not receive the
sanction of the king; and sensible men hoped that these remonstrances
would be successful. And when, at length, the intelligence came
that the bill had passed both houses, received his majesty's signature,
and become a law, resentment, grief, and a spirit of resistance filled
every bosom. Men spoke freely their minds, and murmurs against
the lieutenant-governor were loud. He was termed a traitor to the
interests of the colony, and the cries of “down with Hutchinson!”
reached his own ears as he sat trembling at the consequences of the
volcano he had been so rash as to kindle by his suggestion of the
stamp-duty. It was from a fear of his personal safety, that led him
to send privately to the eastle for the troops, whose presence had only
served to increase the popular indignation against him. He at length
scaled, as if led on by a blind fatality, his unpopularity and odium by
the order which he issued for the citizens to take care of them in
their houses.

The consequences to himself of these injudicious measures, to give
them their mildest appellation, were at once foreseen by Fleming; and
while he felt the deepest anxiety on his sister's account, and entered fully
into all the feelings of his townsmen, he trembled for the safety and
peace of the lovely and high-born English girl who had not been out
of his mind in the last three months. He therefore combined several
motives in his visit to the governor's mansion—protection to his sister
and his own home, a desire to be a mediator between the governor
and the town, and a wish to avert from the head of the fair maiden,
the calamity which pended over her father's, and in which she

[ILLUSTRATION]

Lucy Hutchinson, the Governor's Daughter.

was equally involved; for, if even she was personally unharmed in
any outbreak of the people, her father's misfortunes, he knew, she
would feel to be her own. Love has more than once been the spur
to noble deeds.

Fleming continued to gaze upon the portraits, but oftener diverted
his eyes to the living and breathing portrait by his side. Her face
was, indeed, worthy of the deep and earnest looks with which he
stealthily regarded it, while his entranced ears drank in the liquid music
of her rich voice as she discoursed to him of the characters of the
various personages whose pictures hung upon the wall. Her figure
was tall, yet not a hair's-breadth too much so, and grace and feminine
dignity reposed upon her brow as upon their native throne. Her hair
was a bright chesnut brown, bound at the back of her head in a
knot of shining tresses. Her eyes were large, of a very dark hazel
color, and sparkled with soul and feeling. Intelligence and sprightliness
animated her beautiful features, and softened the character of
firmness which the occasional resolved compression of her finely cut
lips indicated. She was habited in black, a net shawl being drawn
closely over her shoulders, finely displaying the graceful roundness
of her bust and faultless elegance of her form. Her age was about
twenty, perhaps a few months less, for a certain grave decision in
her air, which took nothing from her loveliness, gave her the
appearance of being maturer, perhaps, than she was. There was
too, about her that indescribable tone of high birth which seems to belong
to the noble families of England; but in her it did not take the
aspect of pride or hauteur, but rather manifested itself in a refined
gentleness of manner that could only spring from a refined mind and
native amiability of character.

Such was Lucy Hutchinson, the beautiful daughter of the unpopular
governor. As she accompanied Fleming from picture to picture
along the wall, they came to the open door through which she had
come into their presence.

“You asked me if we had the likeness of Sir William Pitt,” she
said, smiling. “I see you are likely to think more of that than of
the three others I have shown you. If you will walk into the next
room you will find it hanging there. The governor has banished it
from his library.”

“I am glad then to see that you have taken it under your protection,

Miss Hutchinson,” said Fleming, with an earnest and grateful
manner, as he followed her into a drawing-room, more richly furnished
than the apartment in which they had left the governor.

It was also, like that, brilliantly lighted up, as indeed was every
apartment of the mansion, for the timid ruler of the colony was apprehensive
of an attack under cover of the night, and had taken this
mode to prevent a surprise, the radiance from the lighted windows
being cast far around the edifice to many rods distant.

“There is William Pitt!” said the young lady, pointing to a venerable
and noble head.

“I should have known him without being notified,” said Fleming,
as he gazed upon it. “In his face speaks a generous and daring
spirit as well as wisdom and intellectual power. How different are
the expression and character of his face from those of the arrogant
Lord North, the haughty Bute, or the sycophantic and heartless Grenville.
Miss Hutchinson, such a celestial aspect, for he looks a god,
could never be listed on the side of wrong and oppression. Did these
two men, Lord North and Sir William Pitt, now stand before you, and
each asked you to follow them to fame and honor, taking different
paths to it, which would you follow?”

The maiden gazed up into his beaming eyes as he addressed her
this question, and regarded him with admiration, not unmixed with
surprise. At length she answered,

“I should not hesitate. I should follow to fame and honor, if
either, that man!” and she pointed impressively to the portrait of
Pitt.

“I knew you would make this answer. Every true and generous
spirit would reply as you have done. In one of those two men
you behold the despotic noble who would oppress us. In the other
the fearless defender of our liberties. I cannot look into the face of
Miss Hutchinson and believe for a moment, that she is the friend of
the oppressor; that she cherishes principles which that great and good
man would frown upon;” and he elevated his hand towards the portrait
of Chatham, at the same time watching her face with deep attention.

“I am not surprised at your boldness of speech, sir,” she answered
with a richer color; “since I overheard all that you have said to
my father. But,”—

“If I have offended you by my freedom, pardon me, Miss Hutchinson,”
he said with deep respect; “but I am a colonist. I feel as
one, and cannot but speak as one.”

“You have not offended me, sir,” answered the maiden, with some
hesitation. “I honor you for your frank avowal of sentiments that
no one should be ashamed to possess.” She spoke in an under tone,
but with distinctness.

“Is it possible, that I hear these expressions from the lips of the
daughter of the governor!” he answered in the same depressed key.

“It is not of necessity that I should think with my father on a subject
upon which every one can form an opinion. I feel for, and
strongly sympathize with your colonial friends in the oppressive measures
of which the ministry are making you the victims. I have been
with you long enough to understand and respect the character of the
colonists. I know you are a brave, intelligent, forbearing and liberty-loving
people. I have watched with pain the progress of events towards
this crisis, and when to-day the news of the passage of the
stamp-act reached me, I shed tears. I wept for your wrongs; I wept
for the infamy that would fall back upon my country.”

Fleming listened to her as if in a dream. To hear such sentiments
from the daughter of the oppressor, Hutchinson, amazed him. He
stood gazing upon her spirited and animated countenance with emotion
and delight. Impulsively he took her hand, bent before her on
one knee, and pressed it to his lips. She withdrew it, with her face
covered with blushes, but without betraying anger.

“Forgive me, Miss Hutchinson; but I feel towards you new emotions.
I could lay my life down for you. From this moment you
are next to my sister in my heart and thoughts. Pardon my words.
I am bold, to speak as I do to one of your birth and dignity of rank—
I, a poor artizan. If I have offended, forgive. I shall never forget
how happy you have made me. Dare I confess to you—for you look
as if you would listen without displeasure—dare I confess to you how
much I have thought of you since that day I was so happy as to save
you. You have scarcely been absent from my mind. It has made
me both happy and wretched to think upon you; sad to know that you
were the daughter of one who loved not my native land, and that you,
perhaps, loved it not; sad that, however much I might dwell upon
your image, it could be only to worship afar off; for rank and circumstances

had placed you far above me and my station. Happy to know
that nothing could ever rob my memory of the sweet remembrance of
you; and that though we never met again, I should ever hold it sacred
in my soul.” I have said, I fear, Miss Hutchinson, what I had better
have left unsaid. But I could not resist the impulse to speak to you
of the fullness of my heart. I shall go from you, at least, conscious
that you are the friend of the colonies; and, for your sake, I shall try
and love your father. It was for your sake that I came to advise him
and warn him to-night. But I will not say another word. I have said
too many already.”

“Fleming,” answered the maiden, who had listened to him with a
changing cheek and an agitated bosom; “I am not displeased at your
boldness, though I do not know but that I ought to be; yet I will forgive
you, for I know not how to be displeased with one to whom I owe
my life.”

“I do not desire to gain any clemency from that circumstance,”
answered Fleming. “Yet this fact has made me think of you, when,
perhaps, I ought to have tried to forget you. If, however, I am forgiven,
and you have a kind remembrance of what I have been so
happy as to do for you, will you allow me to take the only advantage
of it that I desire to do.”

“What is it you would say?” asked Miss Hutchinson, looking him
in the face with an encouraging expression, yet looking confused;
for she could not guess what he meant by his words.

“That you would use all the influence you possess, to urge upon
your father, mild and forbearing measures towards the people over
whom the king has placed him in power and authority.”

“That I will cheerfully do. It has hitherto been my aim to make
him more popular with the colonists. I have not been blind to the
position he holds in their estimation, and which reflects upon me;
for I experience the coldness of the ladies of the commonwealth,
whom I esteem, and whose opinions I respect. But my father is an
Englishman in all his feelings, and shares with the nobility in all their
prejudices against the colonies. I have talked with my father by the
hour, laying before him the just claims of the people to his consideration,
and endeavored to convince him of the unavoidable painful results
that must follow a system such as he is pursuing.”

“And what does he answer you, noble and generous maiden!”

“That he only obeys the spirit of the government at home. He

says that he is placed in power here, not to please the humors of the
colonists, but the wishes of the king and his ministry. To day I have
talked with him, since the arrival of the news that the Stamp Bill has
passed and become a law.”

“And what did he reply?” asked Fleming, with deep attention.

“That his course towards the colony was mild, compared with
that of the monarch.”

“I am sorry that he should argue in a way that implies a natural
love for oppression. Pardon me, but there is no necessity for such
petty tyranny as that with which he rules us. Clemency and kindness
would not bring him into disfavor with the king, while it would
gain him friends with us here. The governor is not either king or
ministry, that he should play the despot. A governor should be a
friend both to the king and people. But Governor Hutchinson is the
king's friend and the people's foe. He rules like an autocrat among
serfs! like a general over a conquered province.”

“I am aware of the great cause you have for censuring my father.
I grieve at his course, and would cheerfully sacrifice my life to heal
the wounds his injudicious rule has caused in the popular mind.”

“Does he suspect your partiality for the cause of the colonists?”

“He does not. I have been cautious while I have been zealous.
He attributes my earnestness only as the result of a womanly desire
to have peace. He loves me tenderly; but should he suspect how
strongly I feel, I fear that I should lose over him even the little influence
that I possess; for I have been so happy as to prevent his
doing much more than he has done, to make his government oppressive. It is painful for me to speak in this open way of my father, but
I know I speak to one who will not betray me, and who possesses
nobleness of nature and generosity of character, sufficient to appreciate
my feelings, and fully sympathise with my position.”

“You do me but justice, Miss Hutchinson. I do sympathise with
you, with all my heart. If I can serve you, command me. It is
true, I possess but little influence as a citizen, and am but little known;
but all patriots will be, and are my friends.”

“You can serve me, by using your influence to appease the popular
mind. Assure men that the governor will be just, and that they
may confide in him. After what you have said to him to-night, for
which I thank you sincerely, he will reflect, and I do believe, act with
more discretion. I am sure he regrets his precipitancy already. His
error has been in forming his opinion of the colonists, from his knowledge

of the masses at home. The spirit evinced this day, has shown
him his error.”

“He has been long enough ruler over us to have discovered it before.
But he has kept aloof from us. He has stood above us, and
governed us, as if he dwelt in another planet. His pride and his
prejudices have prevented him from mixing freely with us!”

“All this has been wrong, and done him much injury among those
whose good opinion would have sustained him in power.”

“But it has done us great good, Miss Hutchinson,” responded
Fleming, impressively.

“How? I would that it may!” she answered, with a look of
surprise.

“By showing us the excellency of liberty. He has taught us to
contrast it with despotism. By his despotic mode of governing us,
he has taught us how his master will govern us when he binds upon
our necks the iron chains of the Stamp-Act. The king had better
stamp with hot irons, as slaves are branded, his royal seal upon each
of our forcheads, to tell the world we are his slaves. He could do
no more, if he did this, than he does by forcing this stamp duty upon
us!”

“Would to God the king had been wiser than his ministers, ere he
had done this, or his ministers had been more just!” answered Miss
Hutchinson, with emotion. “I see not where all this will end!”

“It is a dark cloud that overshadows both lands. We are already
a great nation, colonists though we are, Miss Hutchinson. There
are five hundred thousand men among us whose knees have never
bent, nor ever will bend, to the king's tyranny. These men can bear
arms and have power to construct a separate empire in this land in the
very face, and in defiance of the king, if he goad them to desperation.
After the passage of this act, I do not see that any mercy or favor is to
be extended to us. Bow in submission to it we will not!”

“I shudder to fill up, or even contemplate the picture that you have
so forcibly outlined. My fears tell me you have drawn that which will
be. On the first of November this act goes into operation. It is close
at hand. What dreadful consequences must follow the attempt of my
father to appoint the officers of revenue and enforce the law.”

“We must prepare for it. I see that if he persists in his present
hostility to us, and his slavish submission to the will of the monarch,
which he even transcends, that judgment will fall upon him.”

“Do not prophesy. The evil I know will come, but I feelthat I must
stop my ears.”

“Danger shall not come nigh you, Miss Hutchinson. You at least,
shall escape the consequences of your father's conduct. In me you
have a friend, and through me, friends in all my friends. I shall not
let you out of my thoughts a moment.”

“Kind and noble young man. But I shall little regard my own
personal safety while my father is in danger. I will talk with him before
I sleep. I will lay before him the subject in all its bearings. I
trust I shall be able to change his policy.”

“If you induce him to send the troops back to the castle early in the
morning, you will gain a great step for him in favor with the incensed
towns-people.”

“This I pledge myself to,” she answered resolutely.

As she spoke, Cleverling's voice was heard in the adjoining apartment.