The Romance of Old New England Rooftrees | Page 9

beggar to priest, courtier to lackey, was making its way to church, the
town of Lisbon was shaken to its foundations by an earthquake. The
shock came about ten o'clock, just as the Misericordia of the mass was
being sung in the crowded churches; and Frankland, who was riding
with a lady on his way to the religious ceremony, was immersed with

his companion in the ruins of some falling houses. The horses attached
to their carriage were instantly killed, and the lady, in her terror and
pain, bit through the sleeve of her escort's red broadcloth coat, tearing
the flesh with her teeth. Frankland had some awful moments for
thought as he lay there pinned down by the fallen stones, and tortured
by the pain in his arm.
Meanwhile Agnes, waiting at home, was prey to most terrible anxiety.
As soon as the surging streets would permit a foot passenger, she ran
out with all the money she could lay hands on, to search for her dear Sir
Harry. By a lucky chance, she came to the very spot where he was
lying white with pain, and by her offers of abundant reward and by
gold, which she fairly showered on the men near by, she succeeded in
extricating him from his fearful plight. Tenderly he was borne to a
neighbouring house, and there, as soon as he could stand, a priest was
summoned to tie the knot too long ignored. He had vowed, while
pinned down by the weight of stone, to amend his life and atone to
Agnes, if God in his mercy should see fit to deliver him, and he wasted
not a moment in executing his pledge to Heaven. That his spirit had
been effectually chastened, one reads between the lines of this entry in
his diary, which may still be seen in the rooms of the Massachusetts
Historical Society in Boston: "Hope my providential escape will have a
lasting good effect upon my mind."
In order to make his marriage doubly sure, he had the ceremony
performed again by a clergyman of his own church on board the ship
which he took at once for England. Then the newly married pair
proceeded once more to Frankland's home, and this time there were
kisses instead of coldness for them both. Business in Lisbon soon
called them back to the Continent, however, and it was from Belem that
they sailed in April, 1750, for Boston, where both were warmly
welcomed by their former friends.
In the celebrated Clarke mansion, on Garden Court Street, which Sir
Harry purchased October 5, 1756, for £1,200, our heroine now reigned
queen. This house, three stories high, with inlaid floors, carved mantels,
and stairs so broad and low that Sir Harry could, and did, ride his pony

up and down them, was the wonder of the time. It contained twenty-six
rooms, and was in every respect a marvel of luxury. That Agnes did not
forget her own people, nor scorn to receive them in her fine house, one
is pleased to note. While here she practically supported, records show,
her sister's children, and she welcomed always when he came ashore
from his voyages her brother Isaac, a poor though honest seaman.
Frankland's health was not, however, all that both might have wished,
and the entries in the diaries deal, at this time, almost entirely with
recipes and soothing drinks. In July, 1757, he sought, therefore, the
post of consul-general to Lisbon, where the climate seemed to him to
suit his condition, and there, sobered city that it now was, the two again
took up their residence. Only once more, in 1763, was Sir Harry to be
in Boston. Then he came for a visit, staying for a space in Hopkinton,
as well as in the city. The following year he returned to the old country,
and in Bath, where he was drinking the waters, he died January 2, 1768,
at the age of fifty-two.
Agnes almost immediately came back to Boston, and, with her sister
and her sister's children, took up her residence at Hopkinton. There she
remained, living a peaceful, happy life among her flowers, her friends,
and her books, until the outbreak of the Revolution, when it seemed to
her wise to go in to her town house. She entered Boston, defended by a
guard of six sturdy soldiers, and was cordially received by the officers
in the beleaguered city, especially by Burgoyne, whom she had known
in Lisbon. During the battle of Bunker Hill, she helped nurse wounded
King's men, brought to her in her big dining-room on Garden Court
Street. As an ardent Tory, however, she was persona non grata in the
colony, and she soon found it convenient to sail for England, where,
until 1782, she resided on