Cambridge
June 19th, 1775
My dear Fruition —
I have done my Good Work for today & shall set it down.
In the Morning, I heard that a Visitor sought me out, & ’twas an envoy from the Cambridge Committee of Safety. The Gentleman said that he had heard reported by several men of the militia that I had a Negro friend played excellently upon the Violin, who had given strong Proof of his Skill the Night Previous. I, being jealous of Prince’s Safety, gave the Man no Straight Reply. He pressed, & eventually discovered his Commission, thus:
Strong Report alleges that within the City Walls, the Officers of the Parliamentary Army have raised a Band of Music to play at their Dramatical Orgies — Overtures & Symphonies & such Stuff — Music to swell their Breasts & Vanity. In this same Band of Music, only the Winds are Regular Soldiers, the Rest being common Citizens, many of them Negro Fiddlers. One of the Fiddlers has sickened & will retire from the field, & so our Committee of Safety believes that could we slip a Negro Musician within the Gates (& they say such is not so impossible a Work of Subtlety) he should be placed in a most Excellent Position to spend some Hours of each Day with the Officer Class, with their Confederation of the Damnable — and report their Doings back to us outside the Walls.
Me having heard this Commission, “Sir,” said I, “indeed I know such a Fiddler — a Negro Boy who I reckon fiddles like the Seraphim. Yea I know of such a One; & I assure you that none could be more firmly attached to the Cause of Liberty & to the toppling of Slavery from her Basalt Throne.”
My Zeal seemed somewhat to cool his Zeal. He hung back & requested Proofs of the Boy’s Dedication to our Cause. I told him at some Length what I had witnessed of Prince’s Heroism; & I added that they could find none more suited to this Commission, as the Boy was quick in his Wits — as examples — with Pride — telling him of Prince’s Latin — his History — his Knowledge of the Entrails. This quieted the Man’s doubts, & he asked me to accompany him to speak to his Superior; to which Request I assented. We proceeding to a Tory House that had been confiscated as an Headquarters, he took me into a Parlor now hung with Maps over some few gawky Portraits of Shrivel-Pizzled Loyalists, and asked me to repeat the Tale for one Mr. Turner.
Mr. Turner listened to my Account with all due Gravity & having heard the Story, confirmed that Prince sounded the very Boy he sought. He was most Grateful to me for bringing the Youth to his Attention, as the Militia who had heard the Divine Fiddling around the Campfire last Night had been unable to recall Prince’s Name, owning however that he was a Friend of Private Goring, of Kedron, which indeed, I had confirmed in all Particulars most satisfactory. Having said this, Mr. Turner bid me fetch Prince at his Work Detail posthaste so he might be offered this interesting Opportunity & ushered within the Walls of Boston momently, personating a Drover or a Gooseboy or some such Trade.
At this, the Gentleman turned to the Side — throughout the Discourse, he turned always from one Side to the Other — an unsettling Habit which made me almost giddy, he being named Mr. Turner — and addressing the Wall, he dictated Orders for an Escort of Four Soldiers for us, & asked me to accompany them & aid them in identifying my dear Friend, & to recall that there was need for (a) Utmost Secrecy and (b) Celerity.
Such I did with Speed, finding Prince some Half-Mile off, in a Ditch. Surprise yielded firstly to Suspicion, & he asked me the Name of the Man who had issued this Commission; but, he having heard of Mr. Turner as a Dancing-Master in the City before the Conflicts, he assented to listen to the Rest of the Request.
I rendered its Outline & then urged it upon him, saying, “Prince — here your gifts shall not be hid beneath a Bushel — but you shall render Signal Service to our Cause, the Cause of Freedom, with that Instrument dearest to thy Heart.”
He baulked, i’faith, at the continual Deception he would needs support; the danger of the initial Entrance into the Town & the Consequences of being Found Out, which could not be more Dire — but it was, I trow, because of the Brutality of the Commission & its unforgiving Nature that he agreed.
“Now,” said he, “I shall strive.”
“Indeed, Friend,” said I, and well can you imagine with what Fervor I shook his Hand.
The Escort came forwards to conduct him to Mr. Turner. I walked a Ways with them. Prince’s Eyes were quick and green — as did they already spy the Gates open before him & the City a-glitter & hear the Whisper of Trumpeters ripe with Secrets & the Fall of all this that had gone before & the Glorious Advent of Liberty.
The Spectacle of his Resolve & Bravery melted me, as does it now — O Prince, noblest of Men, willing to risk thy very Life for thy Country, when thou been Enchained these long Years, & know all thy People to wait for Liberty!
Moved by such Transports, I caught up his hand & asked him what in Life he wished for most.
He did not reply at first, saying, “I have few Desires, sir.”
This Modesty was too much, & I urged him that he must reply. “All Things — all — are open to you — and you need not deserve, but simply Pluck.”
Prince then, collecting his Wits, & with Resolve said softly, “I know what I wish. I wish some Day that I might live by a River — one that is strong of current & silent; & above it, in the Pines, the Hawks shall call; & I shall live there in a small House of one Room & play the Violin, & Someone Else shall play the Harpsichord, & we will be far from all Human Habitation. We shall walk by the Banks of that River, & listen to the Buzzing of the Rushes, & that alone shall be our Company.”
One of the Escorts begun to laugh, saying, “Rushes don’t buzz.”
Another said, “Just the simple Things, Friend: Your Harpsichord.” And they both exchanged Looks & laughed.
But O Prince — Prince — good Heart — for thee the Rushes shall buzz — for thee shall Forests abound with sylvan Harpsichordists — for thee be Peace & Justice — & so for all.
& thus we parted Ways, me & Prince, and he was taken into the Garden of the House where Mr. Turner awaited him, & his bright and glorious Future.
I forwent Supper and walked by the shore of the Charles until I could see Boston.
Already, at that Hour, the Sky over the Sea was dark. The final Part of the Sun set to the West. There was some Wind, as I think that a Storm arises up. The floating Artillery Batteries heaved on the Water. The Sun caught the Spires of the South End, the gray Water that roils under the Docks, the Grasses on Beacon Hill; & all was in Motion & Ferment.
Above us all — Patriot & Tory, Citizen & Soldier, our tiny, covered Heads — the Clouds in their Herd browsed the green Skies.
As above the Tricorne of
your Humble & affectionate Brother,
Private Evidence Goring