Читать книгу Arnold's Tempter - Benjamin F. Comfort - Страница 9

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Philadelphia was in a curious state of unpatriotic sentiment during the winter of 1778. The merchants, the Quakers and wealthy landowners (whose fortunes were established) had sentiments that were decidedly pro-English. Only the leadership and influence of such men as Franklin, Mifflin, Thomson and the influx of patriotism from other Colonies through such men as Patrick Henry, Samuel Adams, Jefferson, Livingston, and the peerless actions of Washington alone saved the least spark of independence among the leading citizens. Philadelphia reeked with Loyalists. After the evacuation of the town by the British army, it was impossible for the Whigs to celebrate such a glorious event by an exclusively Whig ball. All the belles of the town embraced a list of those who had attended every social function of the British officers. They dined where the King was toasted; attended theatricals where our native land was ridiculed. Even the glorious heraldic pageant of the Meschianza claimed homage, from the belles of the leading families.

The meekness of the Quakers and their horrors of war (upon religious principle) were changed to loud acclamations of joy when the British occupied their town. Quakers shook their heads and looked religiously solemn whenever the patriots asked for money and provisions; but when the British presented their demands for supplies, the Philadelphia Quakers smiled graciously and gave without stint. The actions of many of these good people were very questionable during the trying times of the Revolution.

Into this atmosphere of Toryism Roderick Barclugh arrived from New York. Besides the secret instructions of the Governor of the Bank of England and the King’s Minister of War, Lord George Germaine, Barclugh brought with him a passport into the confidence of the leading patriots. The British secret agent had secured a letter of introduction to Charles Thomson, Secretary of Congress, from Benjamin Franklin. The French monarch had secured these credentials for Barclugh on account of the former fidelity of his family to the Pretender.

The letter was addressed as follows:

“Paris, Nov. 20, 1777.

“My dear Sir:

“With much personal satisfaction, the interests and influence of our friend M. Roderick Barclugh have been enlisted in our cause. He comes to us with the best of credentials of the French Monarch. He will represent the interests of some of France’s leading men of wealth, and is desirous of securing Letters of Marque and Reprisal from our Congress for the purpose of engaging in privateering.

“Your cordial co-operation in his affairs is solicited.

“Believe me, sir, with sentiments of unabated esteem,

“Your most obedient servant,

“B. Franklin.

“Mr. Charles Thomson,

“Secretary of Congress,

“Philadelphia, Pa.”

Thus protected with the best passport obtainable, a representative of the Bank of England and of the War Lord took up his abode in Philadelphia.

Roderick Barclugh was at once introduced to the leading firm of traders and privateersmen, Milling & FitzMaurice. They received him very cordially, especially when he asked them if they would honor his drafts on account of his Bills of Exchange on the Bank of Amsterdam for twenty thousand pounds sterling. The senior member of this firm, Mr. Thomas Milling, was very gracious at once. He invited Roderick Barclugh to make any convenience out of his compting-rooms, at least, until such times as he could settle himself in his own quarters.

In 1777 Philadelphia contained about thirty thousand souls. Front Street, which ran parallel with the Delaware River, and Market Street, which ran at right angles to the river, were the principal thoroughfares for both business and residence. The merchants, traders, lawyers and doctors were principally to be found on Front Street and a few on Market Street. There were no banks in Philadelphia at that time. All the merchants had strong boxes of their own.

Roderick Barclugh engaged a house on Front Street near Market Street, one of those commodious Colonial houses used by traders at that time for both business and lodging purposes. The room on the first floor fronting on the street was used as an office for general business; and immediately in the rear of this room was the private office of Roderick Barclugh, wherein all the infamy of commercialism that “excludes alike the virtues and the prejudices that stand in the way of its interest,” held sway.

The second story of this building contained the sleeping apartments of the British agent. He had a clerk for his compting-room and a man-servant to be general lackey. He maintained no household as his meals were served him in a private dining-room at the Boar’s Head Tavern, next door. All of his affairs were maintained in great privacy. Therefore, the clerk and servant performed their daily services and lived apart from their master.

Thus situated, business began to open up for Roderick Barclugh, Financier. Characters through whom negotiations were to be developed were not lacking. Philadelphia society rankled with Toryism that threw itself into the dust at any pretext for aristocratic government. Even some of the leaders in the Whig party of the town openly supported Congress because it was to their interest, but privately could see no good in the advanced theories of democracy as upheld by Samuel Adams.

The merchant princes who had privateers scouring the seas for booty had reason for the war to continue and give them license to prey on commerce, but when order should be re-established, wished an aristocratic government for the enjoyment of their gains.

Roderick Barclugh was soon a high favorite among the merchants. Robert FitzMaurice was the Financier General of Congress, and his commercial house of Milling & FitzMaurice was being enriched in every possible channel. The credit that this public position gave him, advanced his gains in trade and privateering. His credit allowed him to build ships. Nearly every week a privateer of his commission was bringing in a richly-laden merchantman as a prize to his wharves in the Delaware. These cargoes enriched Milling & FitzMaurice to the amount of 800,000 pounds sterling while the war lasted. Is it any wonder that this firm should make loans to the Continental Congress since they were merely putting capital into their stock in trade?

One man at this time standing in the light of public opinion as the antithesis of Thomas Paine in his philosophy of Common Sense, was James Wilson, a leading lawyer of Philadelphia, and a writer of no mean abilities. He was the intimate friend of Robert FitzMaurice, and an adviser in the aristocratic plans of the financier. Whatever were the plans of the men of substance for monarchial forms in government, this clever lawyer was ever ready to advocate these principles by means of pamphlets and after-dinner speeches. He was making a fortune in the practice of law when the country was in the very throes of despair, but this Scotchman knew wherein his fat fees lay.

But Roderick Barclugh did not confine his attention to the merchants and lawyers alone in pursuing his plans. One of the channels through which he pursued the objects of his mission was a fishmonger of the town,—Sven Svenson.

In a raging snowstorm of the winter of 1772, a small Norwegian bark was making its course to the Swedish settlements of the Delaware, with a company of Swedish emigrants. The ship met an undeserved fate on the sands of the Jersey Coast. The whole ship’s company perished in the frigid blasts of a northeast gale in January, save one,—Sven Svenson, a young and vigorous Swede, eighteen years of age. He was found numb, and almost exhausted, by a party of Jersey fishermen. They cared for him and took him to their homes.

These fishermen plied in the oyster trade of Philadelphia with the oysters at that time found in the estuaries of the mouth of the Delaware River. Two trips a week with a sloop were made from Philadelphia to the oyster beds and back. In this trade, Sven at once turned his hand. He was a handy sailor-man,—industrious and saving.

At the time when Roderick Barclugh arrived in Philadelphia, one of the best known and happiest men in the town was Sven Svenson. He had taken hold of the responsible end of the oyster trade himself. Any day, in oyster season, one could find this flaxen-haired Swede pushing a wheel-barrow up and down Market Street and through Front Street,—opening a dozen here and a dozen there for passers-by. Everybody ate them on the half-shell, tempered with a squirt of pepper-“sass” from a three-cornered bottle having a goosequill through the cork. Every one liked Sven; not alone for the happy smile with which he opened you an oyster; but he gave it with a sly wink and an extra squirt of “sass,” that pleased.

The mistresses of the best households held Sven as a prime favorite, since, whenever they gave an order for a feast, they could depend upon having their orders filled. He also supplied their tastes with the best in the market.

There were no family secrets but Sven heard them through the servants, or else he happened upon those little wordy duels which occur in the best of families. Moreover, as many Swedish girls were in domestic service it was an easy matter for Sven to hear all the choice gossip of the town.

After settling himself into his bachelor quarters, one of the first things that Roderick Barclugh undertook was to take early morning walks all over the town for knowledge of the people. On several of these observation journeys, he had passed this pumpkin-faced Swede, who, on general principles, saluted every person of note with a most gracious courtesy and removal of his hat.

Barclugh, noticing how good-naturedly everybody stopped Sven’s wheel-barrow, and how many patronized his fresh oysters, recognized in this guileless vender of shellfish a master-key to all the town’s frailties. Following up his observations, the next day when he met Sven on his morning rounds,—merrily pushing his wheel-barrow up Market Street, dressed in leather breeches, white cap and apron,—the fishmonger stopped and bowed low, half recognizing Barclugh’s desire to speak.

“How do you sell your wares, my good man?” spoke Barclugh.

“Sax pence ahl vat you eet, sahr,” was the prompt reply.

“All right, let us have some of the smallest, with no pepper-sauce, my man. I like them briny. Are these from the deep salt water?” continued Barclugh, thus to draw out Sven, who bustled around to please his new customer.

With a jerky motion he opened a choice bivalve and held it up for Barclugh to eat on the half-shell.

A roguish twinkle gleamed in his eye when his customer had taken the oyster with a smack of his lips. Sven held out the other half of the shell and with his oyster knife pointing to the fine purplish coloring of the inside, said:

“Das wass a he-oeystar, and ahl maan got some by me. Van maan eet plaanty he-oeystar and papper-saass he feel strang ahl daay. Das wass samting vat halps fadder and strangtans modder.”

The Swede could have gone on about his oysters at any length as long as his customer would eat, but getting enough “he-oysters,” Barclugh handed him a sixpence and at the same time slipping a crown piece into his hand, asked:

“Do you know General Arnold?”

“Yah,” replied Sven, who looked startled and astonished as he grasped the coin, and squared himself up to tell all that he knew.

“I haf baan in dis kontry sax yahr and sax monts. My name is Sven Svenson, and my brodder’s garl varks for Mrs. Arnold. Ganral Arnold eats plaanty he-oeystar and owes me tan pound starling. Mrs. Arnold haf a strang tongue and talks to the Ganral to yump his yob and vark for dee Angleesh.”

Barclugh smiled and left Sven still eager to tell more, showing unconcern by hastily departing, yet when walking briskly along he thought to himself:

“The Swede loves money and his knowledge must be mine. Arnold can not long resist his wife and my offers too.”