Chapter III: Part II: The First Poetic Period. 1775-1781 (1)

A POLITICAL LITANY 139
AMERICAN LIBERTY, A POEM 142
GENERAL GAGE'S SOLILOQUY 152
THE MIDNIGHT CONSULTATIONS, OR, A TRIP TO BOSTON 158
THE SILENT ACADEMY 182
LINES TO A COASTING CAPTAIN 184
TO THE AMERICANS 185
THE VERNAL AGUE 188
GENERAL GAGE'S CONFESSION 189
THE DISTREST SHEPHERDESS 195
MARS AND HYMEN 197
MACSWIGGEN, A SATIRE 206
THE HOUSE OF NIGHT 212
THE JAMAICA FUNERAL 239
THE BEAUTIES OF SANTA CRUZ 249
ON A HESSIAN DEBARKATION, 1776 269
THE JEWISH LAMENTATION AT EUPHRATES 270
AMERICA INDEPENDENT 271
ON AMANDA'S SINGING BIRD 283
ON THE NEW AMERICAN FRIGATE ALLIANCE 285
ON THE DEATH OF CAPTAIN NICHOLAS BIDDLE 288
CAPTAIN JONES'S INVITATION 290
THE SEA VOYAGE 293

LIFE OF PHILIP FRENEAU

1752-1832

LIFE OF PHILIP FRENEAU

I.

In the possession of the Freneau descendants there is an old French Bible, printed in Geneva, Switzerland, in 1587, which preserves an unbroken roll of the heads of the family back to the original owner of the book, Philip Fresneau, who on his death-bed in La Chapelle, France, in 1590, gave it into the hands of his eldest son. For five generations the book remained in the little suburban village, its possessors sturdy, industrious tradesmen, who stood high in the esteem of their community and yet who on account of their Protestant faith were often imposed upon and at times even persecuted. It was doubtless this feeling of insecurity, if not positive persecution, which compelled André Fresneau, like so many of his fellow Huguenots, to leave his native village and to seek a home in a more tolerant land.

He landed in New York in 1707. He was in his thirty-sixth year, an active, handsome man, almost brilliant in certain directions, of pleasing address, and skilled from his youth in the handling of affairs. He became at once a leader in the little Huguenot Colony whose center was the quaint old church "du St. Esprit" on Pine street. He was soon in the midst of a thriving shipping business, dealing largely in imported wines, and in 1710, three years after his arrival, he was able to furnish a beautiful home on Pearl street, near Hanover Square, for his young bride, Mary Morin, a daughter of Pierre Morin, of the French Congregation. Of the comfort and hospitality of this home there are many contemporary references. John Fontaine, the French traveller, was entertained here in 1716 and he speaks highly of his host and his entertainment.[1]

In 1721 Mrs. Fresneau died at the early age of twenty-seven, leaving behind a family of five children, the oldest only nine years of age. Four years later the father followed. But the young family was far from destitute. The business house in New York had grown to be very profitable and there was a large landed estate in eastern New Jersey, a part of which was sold in 1740. Soon the two eldest sons, Andrew, born 1712, and Pierre, born January 22, 1718, were able to continue their father's business. For years their firm name was familiar in New York.

Pierre Freneau (the family seem to have dropped the "s" about 1725) was married in 1748 to Agnes Watson, daughter of Richard Watson, of Freehold, whose property bordered upon the Freneau estate. They made their home in Frankfort street, New York, and here on January 2 (O. S.), 1752, was born their eldest child, Philip Morin Freneau, the subject of our sketch. Four other children came from their union, of whom only one, Peter, born April 5, 1757, who in later years became a prominent figure in Charleston, S. C., need be mentioned.

The home of the Freneau's was one of comfort and even refinement. There was a large and well selected library, the pride of its owner. "There," he would say to his visitors, pointing to his books, "use them freely, for among them you will find your truest friends." He delighted in men of refinement, and his home became a social center for the lovers of books and of culture. He looked carefully after the education of his children; and all of them early became omnivorous readers. In such an environment the young poet passed his first ten years.

In 1762 the family decided to leave New York and to make their home permanently on their estate, "Mount Pleasant," near Middletown Point, N. J. The estate at this time contained nearly a thousand acres, and with its large buildings, its slaves and its broad area under cultivation, was in many respects like a southern plantation. Heretofore the elder Freneau had made it of secondary importance. He had used it as a summer resort, and as a pleasant relief to the monotony of his city business, but now, perhaps on account of failing health, he determined to devote to it all of his energies. Philip was left behind in New York. For the next three years he lived at a boarding school in the city, going home only during the long vacations. At the age of thirteen he was sent to the Latin school at Penolopen, then presided over by the Rev. Alexander Mitchell, to prepare for college.

The father of the family died Oct. 17, 1767. This, however, did not disturb the plans of the eldest son, and on Nov. 7, 1768, he entered the sophomore class at Princeton so well prepared that President Witherspoon is said to have sent a letter of congratulation to his mother.

II.

Of the college life of Philip Freneau we have only fragmentary records. He was in his sixteenth year when he entered, a somewhat dreamy youth who had read very widely, especially in the English poets and the Latin classics, and who already commanded a facile pen, especially in the field of heroic verse. During the year in which he entered Princeton he composed two long poems, "The History of the Prophet Jonah," and "The Village Merchant,"--surely notable work for the pen of a college sophomore. During the following year he wrote "The Pyramids of Egypt," and before his graduation he had completed several other pieces, some of them full of real poetic inspiration.

The period during which Freneau resided at Princeton was a most significant one. In the same class with him were James Madison, H. H. Brackenridge, the author of "Modern Chivalry" and a conspicuous figure in later Pennsylvania history, and Samuel Spring, who was to become widely influential in religious circles. In the class below him were the refined and scholarly William Bradford and the brilliant Aaron Burr. The shadow of the coming struggle with Great Britain was already lengthening over the Colonies and nowhere was its presence more manifest than in the colleges, always the most sensitive areas in times of tyranny and oppression. On August 6, 1770, the senior class at Princeton voted unanimously to appear at commencement dressed in American manufactures.

Another circumstance made the period a notable one. On June 24, 1769, a little band of students, headed by Madison, Brackenridge, Bradford and Freneau, organized an undergraduate fraternity to be called the American Whig Society. One year later The Well Meaning Club, a rival literary organization founded in 1765, became the Cliosophic Society. The act was the signal for a war, the echoes of which have even yet not died away at Princeton. There exists a manuscript book,[2] rescued from the papers of William Bradford, in which are preserved the poetic tirades, called forth in this first onset. Its title page is as follows:

"Satires | against the Tories. | Written in the last War between the Whigs & Cliosophians | in which | the former obtained a compleat Victory.

--Arm'd for virtue now we point the pen
Brand the bold front of shameless, guilty men
Dash the proud Tory in his gilded Car
Bare the mean heart that hides beneath a star."

It opens with ten "pastorals" by Brackenridge, of which the ninth begins thus:

"Spring's Soliloquy that morning before he hung himself.

O World adieu! the doleful time draws nigh
I cannot live and yet I fear to die
Warford is dead! and in his turn Freneau
Will send me headlong to the shades below.
What raging fury or what baleful Star
Did find--ingulph me in the whiggish war
The deeds of darkness which my soul hath done
Are now apparent as the noon-day sun
A Thousand things as yet remain untold
My secret practice and my sins of old."

Then follow several satires by Freneau, full of fire and invective, but like the work of all the others, not always refined or quotable in print. His satire, "McSwiggen," printed in 1775, contains nearly half of the poems,--the only lines indeed which are of any real merit. The three concluding poems of the collection, and these by all means the worst of the lot, are from no less a pen than Madison's. No patriotic citizen will ever venture to resurrect them.

There is a tradition very widely current that Freneau was for a time the room-mate of Madison. However this may be, there is no question as to who was his most intimate friend. With Brackenridge he had much in common. Both had dreams of a literary life, both had read largely in polite literature, both scribbled constantly in prose and verse. In the same manuscript volume with the Clio-Whig satires there is an extensive fragment of a novel written alternately by Brackenridge and Freneau, between September 20th and October 22d, 1770. Its manuscript title page is as follows:

"Father Bombo's | Pilgrimage to Mecca in Arabia. | Vol. II. |
Wherein is given a true account of the innumerable and | surprizing
adventures which befell him in the course of that | long and
tedious Journey, | Till he once more returned safe to his native
Land, as related | by his own mouth. | Written By B. H. and
P. F.--1770.

Mutato nomine
Fabula de te narratur--_Hor._
Change but the name
The story's told of you.
MDVIILXX."

The adventures of the hero read like chapters from the "Arabian Nights." He has been for seven days a close captive on a French man-of-war, but he is rescued by an Irish privateer, only to be taken for a wizard and thrown overboard in a cask which is finally washed ashore on the north coast of Ireland. It would be useless to recount all of his adventures both afloat and ashore. He finally succeeds in reaching Mecca, and in returning safely home to America. The final chapter recounts the details of his death and moralizes on his life and character.

The work is crude and hasty. Whole chapters of it were evidently written at one sitting. The part signed H. B. is unquestionably the best; the prose is vigorous and the movement rapid. The only merit in Freneau's section lies in its lyric lament at the close of one of the chapters. The hero suddenly bursts into minor song, the opening stanzas of which are:

Sweet are the flow'rs that crown the Vale
And sweet the spicy breathing Gale
That murmurs o'er the hills:
See how the distant lowing throng
Thro' verdant pastures move along,
Or drink the Limpid Streams and crystal rills.

Ah see in yonder gloomy Grove
The Shepherd tells his tale of Love
And clasps the wanton fair:
While winds and trees and shades conspire
To fann with Love the Gentle Fire,
And banish every black and boding care.

But what has Love to do with me
Unknown ashore, distress'd by sea,
Now hast'ning to the Tomb:
Whilst here I rove, and pine and weep,
Sav'd from the fury of the deep
To find alas on shore a harder doom.

The nature of the undergraduate work done by Princeton in Freneau's time was thus summed up by President Witherspoon in his "Address to the Inhabitants of Jamaica," published in Philadelphia in 1772:

"In the first year they read Latin and Greek, with the Roman and Grecian antiquities, and Rhetoric. In the second, continuing the study of the languages, they learn a compleat system of Geography, with the use of the globes, the first principles of Philosophy, and the elements of mathematical knowledge. The third, though the languages are not wholly omitted, is chiefly employed in Mathematics and Natural Philosophy. And the senior year is employed in reading the higher classics, proceeding in the Mathematics and Natural Philosophy and going through a course of Moral Philosophy. In addition to these, the President gives lectures to the juniors and seniors, which consequently every Student hears twice over in his course, first, upon Chronology and History, and afterwards upon Composition and Criticism. He has also taught the French language last winter, and it will continue to be taught to all who desire to learn it. * * *

"As we have never yet been obliged to omit or alter it for want of scholars, there is a fixed Annual Commencement on the last Wednesday of September, when, after a variety of public exercises, always attended by a vast concourse of the politest company, from the different parts of this province and the cities of New York and Philadelphia. * * *"

Of Freneau's proficiency as a student we have no record. Of the details of the Commencement of September 25, 1771, when he received his degree, we have but a brief account. Brackenridge opened the exercises with a salutatory, and following came four other exercises which completed the morning's programme.

The audience assembled again at three, and after singing by the students there came:

"6. An English forensic dispute on this question, 'Does ancient poetry excel the modern?' Mr. Freneau, the respondent, his arguments in favor of the ancients were read. Mr. Williamson answered him and Mr. McKnight replied."

"7. A poem on 'The Rising Glory of America,' by Mr. Brackenridge, was received with great applause by the audience."

Madison on account of ill health did not appear.

The "Rising Glory" had been written conjointly by Brackenridge and Freneau. Although the former was given on the Commencement programme full credit for the exercise, it was surely Freneau who conceived the work and who gave it its strength and high literary value. Brackenridge in later years confessed to his son that "on his part it was a task of labor, while the verse of his associate flowed spontaneously." The poem was printed in Philadelphia the following year, and in 1786 Freneau isolated his own portion for publication in the first edition of his works.

This detaching of Freneau's portion from the complete work destroyed at the outset the original unity of the piece. The changes and omissions made necessary by the process of separating the part from the whole, the deliberate readjustment of perspective to bring the poem up to the historical conditions of the later date, and the careful editing which strove to remove blemishes and weaknesses due to inexperience, combine to make the 1786 version practically a new poem.

The first glimpse of Freneau after his graduation from Princeton is furnished by a letter to Madison, dated Somerset County, in Maryland, November 22, 1772:[3]

"If I am not wrongly informed by my memory, I have not seen you
since last April, you may recollect I was then undertaking a School
at Flatbush on Long Island. I did not enter upon the business it is
certain and continued in it thirteen days--but--'Long Island I have
bid adieu, With all its bruitish, brainless crew. The youth of
that detested place, Are void of reason and of grace. From Flushing
hills to Flatbush plains, Deep ignorance unrivalld reigns.' I'm
very poetical, but excuse it. 'Si fama non venit ad aures,'--if you
have not heard the rumour of this story (which, by the by is told
in various taverns and eating houses) you must allow me to be a
little prolix with it. Those who employed me were some gentlemen of
New York, some of them are bullies, some merchants, and others
Scoundrels: They sent me eight children, the eldest of whom was 10
years. Some could read, others spell and a few stammer over a
chapter of the Bible--these were my pupils and over these was I to
preside. My salary moreover was £40,--there is something else
relating to that I shall not at present mention--after I forsook
them they proscribed me for four days and swore that if I was
caught in New York they would either Trounce or Maim me: but I
luckily escaped with my goods to Princetown--where I remained till
commencement--so much for this affair.

"I have printed a poem in New York called the American Village,
containing about 450 Lines, also a few short pieces added; I would
send you one if I had a proper opportunity--the additional poems
are--A Poem to the Nymph I never saw--The miserable Life of a
Pedagogue--and Stanzas on an ancient Dutch house on Long Island--As
to the main poem it is damned by all good and judicious judges--my
name is in the title page, this is called vanity by some--but 'who
so fond as youthful bards of fame?'

"I arrived at this Somerset Academy the 18th of October, and intend
to remain here till next October. I am assistant to Mr.
Brakenridge. This is the last time I shall enter into such a
business; it worries me to death and by no means suits my 'giddy,
wandring brain.' I would go over for the gown this time two years,
but the old hag Necessity has got such a prodigious gripe of me
that I fear I shall never be able to accomplish it. I believe if I
cannot make this out I must turn quack, and indeed I am now reading
Physic at my leisure hours, that is, when I am neither sleeping,
hearing classes, or writing Poetry--for these three take up all my
time.

"It is now late at night, not an hour ago I finished a little poem
of about 400 lines, entitled a Journey to Maryland--being the Sum
of my adventures--it begins 'From that fam'd town where Hudson's
flood--unites with Stream perhaps as good; Muse has your bard begun
to roam--& I intend to write a terrible Satire upon certain vicious
persons of quality in New York--who have also used me ill--and
print it next fall it shall contain 5 or 600 lines. Sometimes I
write pastorals to shew my Wit.

'Deep to the woods I sing a Shepherd's care,
Deep to the woods, Cyllenus calls me there,
The last retreat of Love and Verse I go,
Verse made me mad at first and----will keep me so.'

"I should have been glad to have heard from you before now; while I
was in college I had but a short participation of your agreeable
friendship, and the few persons I converse with and yet fewer,
whose conversation I delight in, make me regret the Loss of it. I
have met with a variety of rebuffs this year, which I forbear to
mention, I look like an unmeaning Teague just turn'd out of the
hold of an irish Ship coming down hither I met with a rare
adventure at Annapolis. I was destitute even of a brass farthing. I
got clear very handsomely.

"Could one expect ever to see you again, if I travel through
Virginia I shall stop and talk with you a day or two. I should be
very glad to receive a letter from you if it can be conveniently
forwarded--in short 'Non sum qualis eram' as Partridge says in Tom
Jones--My hair is grown like a mop, and I have a huge tuft of beard
directly upon my chin--I want but five weeks of twenty-one years of
age and already feel stiff with age--We have about 30 Students in
this academy, who prey upon me like Leaches--'When shall I quit
this whimpering pack, and hide my head in Acomack?'--Shall I leave
them and go 'Where Pokomokes long stream meandering flows--

"Excuse this prodigious scrawl without stile or sense--I send this
by Mr. Luther Martin who will forward it to Col. Lee--and he to you
I hope. Mr. Martin lives in Acomack in Virginia this side the bay.
Farewell and be persuaded I remain your

truly humble Serv't and friend
PH. F-R-E-N-E-A-U-"

The scene of Freneau's new labors was the famous old school near Princess Anne, Md., which in 1779 was incorporated as Washington Academy. Brackenridge became Master here shortly after his graduation, and in the words of his son and biographer, received "a handsome salary." "He continued here," says his biographer, "during several years until the breaking out of the American Revolution, in the midst of a wealthy and highly polished society, greatly respected as a man of genius and scholarship. He used to speak with the pride of a Porson, of the Winders, the Murrays, the Parnells and others who afterward became distinguished."[4] For many years the academy drew to it the sons of the best families of Northern Virginia, Maryland and Delaware.

The length of Freneau's stay in Maryland is uncertain. There is evidence that he remained as Second Master of the school for several years. There is a tradition in the family that it was the wish of Freneau's father that he study divinity and that for a time he joined with Brackenridge in preparing for this profession; and there is another, which is very persistent, that he left Maryland to study the law in Philadelphia, but I can find no positive evidence. The period between 1772 and 1775 is at best a vague one in our life of the poet.

III.

In the early summer of 1775, Freneau suddenly appeared in New York as a publicist of remarkable fluency. Before November he had issued no less than eight long poems as separate publications, nearly all of them called forth by the new crisis in American affairs. Beginning with "American Liberty," issued by Anderson, the editor of the new patriotic weekly, _The Constitutional Gazette_, he published pamphlet after pamphlet in rapid succession, all of them throwing upon Gage and the British cause in Boston all the satire and invective which he had used so mercilessly in the old society war at Princeton. Two of these were published by Hugh Gaine, and another, "The Voyage to Boston," first issued by Anderson, was reprinted at once in Philadelphia. All of them have fared hardly during the years. Several, like "General Gage's Soliloquy," and "Timothy Taurus," which recounts the story of a journey made by Freneau to Passaic Falls, near Paterson, New Jersey, in August, have disappeared entirely, one of them, the "General Gage's Confession," has never been republished in any form, and all the others were cut down and altered by the author for later editions until they were almost in every respect entirely new poems.

That these voluminous and vigorous tirades, which their author evidently poured forth with perfect ease, were criticised and condemned by the fastidious we have no evidence. Certain it is that judging by the contemporary newspaper press they were exceedingly popular. Yet, in November we find Freneau in a sad state of discouragement, ready to give up forever all association with the muses. Some one, envious of his rising fame, has criticised him unmercifully. He seeks out the old Clio-Whig satires and after adapting and reshaping them he hurls them at the head of his enemy whom he designates as McSwiggen.

Great Jove in wrath a spark of genius gave
And bade me drink the mad Pierian wave,
Hence came those rhymes with truth ascribed to me,
That urge your little soul to jealousy.

* * * * *

Devoted mad man what inspired your rage,
Who bade your foolish muse with us engage?
Against a windmill would you try your might,
Against a castle would a pigmy fight?

The young poet had begun to realize how barren was the new world in poetic appreciation; how impossible it was for even a true poet to practice his art where few could appreciate, and none really cared:

Alone I stand to meet the foul-mouthed train
Assisted by no poets of the plain.

He looked longingly across the water where poets were appreciated:

Long have I sat on this disastrous shore,
And sighing sought to gain a passage o'er
To Europe's towns, where as our travellers say
Poets may flourish, or perhaps they may.

The poem was a valedictory.

I to the sea with weary steps descend,
Quit the mean conquest, that such swine must yield
And leave McSwiggen to enjoy the field.
In distant isles some happier scene I'll choose
And court in softer shades the unwilling muse.

Freneau had determined to spend the winter in the West Indies. He had become acquainted during the autumn with a West Indian gentleman by the name of Hanson, who owned large estates in the islands, and who sailed master of his own vessel. Upon his invitation Freneau became a passenger late in November for the Island of Santa Cruz. Early in the voyage the mate died, and the young poet, his education outweighing his inexperience in nautical matters, was chosen to fill his place. The study of navigation, made necessary by this step, doubtless turned the direction of his whole life.

For the next two years Freneau made his home on Captain Hanson's estate on the Island of Santa Cruz. A selection from one of his letters charmingly describes the spot.

"The town at the west end is but mean and ordinary, consisting of a
fort and perhaps 80 or 90 wooden houses. The harbor is nothing but
an open road, where, however, ships lie in the utmost security at
their moorings, the bottom being good for anchorage and the wind
always off shore. About two miles to the eastward of this town,
along the seashore, is the estate of Capt. Hanson, into which the
sea has formed a beautiful little bay, called Buttler's Bay, about
100 yards across; it has a sandy shore and an excellent landing,
though all the rest of the shore is sharp craggy rocks. My
agreeable residence at this place for above two years, off and on
during the wars in America, renders the idea of it all too
pleasing, and makes me feel much the same anxiety at a distance
from it as Adam did after he was banished from the bowers of
Eden."[5]

He seems to have been employed at intervals by Captain Hanson in voyages about the islands. Thus he records of the Island of St. James, that "I went over July 13, 1777, and remained there eight days. We loaded our vessel with coral rock, which is used in these islands for burning lime of a very excellent quality."

It was while at the ideal retreat at Butler's Bay that Freneau wrote three of his most significant poems, "Santa Cruz," "The House of Night," and "The Jamaica Funeral," the first two of which were contributed to the _United States Magazine_ in 1779. Of these the "House of Night" is the most significant, containing as it does evidence of a high creative power and a romantic imagination, rare indeed in English poetry in 1776. There are evidences that Freneau composed the first draught of the poem before leaving for the West Indies, but the point is not an important one. For the edition of 1786 he nearly doubled the original version, but in 1795 he cut it down to a few stanzas, taking from it nearly everything which had made it a notable creation.

On April 1, 1778, Freneau sailed from Santa Cruz for the Bermuda Islands, where for a time he was the guest of the English Governor. In an elaborate letter to Brackenridge, dated Bermuda, May 10, afterward published in the _United States Magazine_, he describes at length the islands. "These," he says in conclusion, "are a few particulars concerning this little country where I resided upwards of five weeks, and if this slight description gives you any satisfaction, it will amply repay me for the fatigues I underwent in sailing thither."

On June 6th he was again in Santa Cruz; on the 15th he set out on his homeward voyage, after an absence of nearly three years. The run home was destined to be eventful. Off the Delaware capes the vessel was taken by the British, but Freneau, being a passenger, was landed on July 9th and allowed to go his way.

The young poet now retired to Mount Pleasant, where doubtless he quietly remained until the autumn of the following year. In August, 1778, he published with Bell in Philadelphia the pamphlet poem "America Independent." On January 1, 1779, Brackenridge issued in Philadelphia the first number of the _United States Magazine_,[6] and Freneau at once became an important contributor. His work in prose and verse may be found in nearly every number. There are prose papers on the West Indies, purporting to be extracts from the letters of "a young philosopher and _bel esprit_ just returned from several small voyages amongst these islands." There are several early poems for the first time put into print, like "Columbus to Ferdinand" and "The Dying Elm," and there are several notable long poems, like "Santa Cruz" and "The House of Night." At least three of the poetical contributions were written expressly for the magazine: "George the Third's Soliloquy," "Psalm cxxxvii Imitated,"--signed "Monmouth, Sept. 10,"--and the "Dialogue between George and Fox." It is evident, however, that Freneau, though his work very greatly strengthened the periodical, was only a "valued contributor." The psalm in the September issue, the first of the poems to bear his name, had a foot-note explaining that the author was "a young gentleman to whom in the course of this work we are greatly indebted."

The _United States Magazine_ is a notable landmark in American literary history. Its methods, as we view them to-day, seem singularly modern, and its materials and arrangement are indeed remarkable when we view them against the background of their times. It was a spirited, intensely patriotic, and highly literary periodical; the single fact that "The House of Night" first appeared in its columns is enough to stamp it as no ordinary work. It died with its twelfth issue, owing to the troubled state of the country and the unsettled nature of the currency. Then, too, the audience to which it appealed was found to be a small one. In his valedictory the editor complains bitterly of the unliterary atmosphere in America. A large class, he declares, "inhabit the region of stupidity, and cannot bear to have the tranquility of their repose disturbed by the villanous shock of a book. Reading is to them the worst of all torments, and I remember very well that at the commencement of the work it was their language, 'Art thou come to torment us before the time?' We will now say to them, 'Sleep on and take your rest.'"

Late in September, 1779, Freneau shipped as super-cargo on the brig _Rebecca_, Captain Chatham, bound for the Azores. After an exciting voyage, during which they were several times chased by British ships, they arrived at Santa Cruz, in the island of Teneriffe, where they remained two months. A part of Freneau's notebook during this voyage has been preserved. It shows him to have been a careful and conscientious student of navigation, making each day an observation of his own and minutely tabulating his results. His cash account with the crew during the stay in the islands is interesting and suggestive.

The early spring of 1780 was spent by the poet at the old home, but his mind was evidently tossing upon the ocean. He longed to visit again his beloved West Indies, and accordingly on the 25th of May he took passage at Philadelphia, in the ship _Aurora_, for St. Eustatia. Freneau's account of this voyage and its after results is still extant.[7] A few quotations will tell the story.

"On the 25th of May, in beating down the Delaware Bay, we
unfortunately retook a small sloop from the refugees loaded with
corn, which hindered us from standing out to sea that night,
whereby in all probability we should have avoided the enemy which
afterwards captured us.

"Friday morning, May 26. The air very smoky and the wind somewhat
faintish, though it afterward freshened up. The wind was so that we
stood off E.S.E., after putting the pilot on board the small sloop,
handcuffing the prisoners, and sending the prize to Cape May.
About three o'clock in the afternoon we discovered three sail
bearing from us about E.N.E.; they were not more than five leagues
from us when we discovered them from the foretop; at the same time
we could see them from the quarter-deck. One appeared to be a
pretty large ship, the other two brigs. We soon found they were in
chase of us; we therefore tacked immediately, set all sail we could
crowd, and stood back from the bay. My advice to the officers was
to stand for Egg Harbor or any part of the Jersey shore, and run
the ship on the flats, rather than be taken; but this was
disregarded. We continued to stand in till we saw Cape Henlopen;
the frigate, in the meantime, gaining on us apace; sun about half
an hour high. We were abreast of the Cape, close in, when the wind
took us aback, and immediately after we were becalmed; the ebb of
the tide at the same time setting very strong out of the bay, so
that we rather drifted out. Our design was, if possible, to get
within the road around the point, and then run the ship on shore;
but want of wind and the tide being against us, hindered from
putting this into execution. We were now within three hundred yards
of the shore. The frigate in the meantime ran in the bay to leeward
of us about one-quarter of a mile (her distance from the Cape
hindering it from becalming her as it did us) and began to bring
her cannon to bear on us. Her two prizes hove to; one we knew to be
the brig _Active_, Captain Mesnard; the other, as we afterward
learned, was a Salem brig from the West Indies. The frigate was the
_Iris_, returning from Charleston to New York, with the express of
the former's being taken. We now began to fire upon each other at
the distance of about three hundred yards. The frigate hulled us
several times. One shot went betwixt wind and water, which made the
ship leak amazingly, making twenty-four inches in thirty minutes.
We found our four-pounders were but trifles against the frigate, so
we got our nine-pounder, the only one we had, pointed from the
cabin windows, with which we played upon the frigate for about half
an hour. At last a twelve-pound shot came from the frigate, and,
striking a parcel of oars lashed upon the starboard quarter, broke
them all in two, and continuing its destructive course, struck
Captain Laboyteaut in the right thigh, which it smashed to atoms,
tearing part of his belly open at the same time with the splinters
from the oars; he fell from the quarter-deck close by me, and for
some time seemed very busily engaged in setting his legs to rights.
He died about eleven the same night, and next day was sewed up in
his hammock and sunk. Every shot seemed now to bring ruin with it.
A lad named Steel had his arm broken and some others complained of
slight wounds; whereupon, finding the frigate ready and in a
position to give us a broadside, we struck, after having held a
very unequal contest with her for about an hour.... As soon as we
struck, one Squires with some midshipmen came on board and took
possession of the vessel."

Freneau at first supposed that, being a passenger, he would be taken with the prize to New York and there released; but despite his protests, he was driven into the barge with the other prisoners and taken to the _Iris_. All his baggage was left behind, and he was destined never to see it again. Arriving on board, the prisoners were driven between decks, where the air was hot and stifling.

"There were about one hundred prisoners forward, the stench of whom
was almost intolerable. So many melancholy sights and dismal
countenances made it a pretty just representation of the infernal
region. I marched through a torrent of cursing and blasphemy to my
station, viz., at the blacksmith's vice, where the miserable
prisoners were handcuffed two and two. At last it came my turn.
'Pray,' said I, 'is it your custom to handcuff passengers? The
Americans, I am confident, never used the English so.'

"'Are you a passenger?' said the blacksmith. At the same time
happening to look up, I saw Hugh Ray looking steadily at me, who
immediately seized my hand, and asked me how I did. 'Do you know
him?' said Holmes, the master-at-arms. 'Then you are free from
irons; come over among the gentlemen.'

"This was an unexpected deliverance from a cursed disgrace which I
hardly knew how I should get clear of. After this I was used well
by everybody."

On the 29th the _Iris_ reached New York and the common prisoners were sent to the prison ships in the harbor. Freneau, however, was retained with the officers. He had been promised his liberty at the first possible moment, but on Thursday, June 1st, at the Commissioner's office, the charge was brought by the second mate that Freneau had been among those stationed at the guns during the fight. He was refused parole, though he promised security in any amount up to ten thousand pounds, and the same day was placed on board the _Scorpion_ prison ship, "lying off the college in the North River."

Freneau's experiences during his stay upon the _Scorpion_ have been described by him in graphic style in his poem, "The Prison Ship."

"On the night of June 4th, thirty-five of the prisoners formed a
design of making their escape, in which they were favored by a
large schooner accidentally alongside of us. She was one that was
destined for the expedition to Elizabeth Town, and anchored just
astern of us. We were then suffered to continue upon deck, if we
chose, till nine o'clock. We were all below at that time except the
insurgents, who rushed upon the sentries and disarmed them in a
moment; one they tied by his neck-stock to the quarter rails, and
carried off his musquet with them (they were all Hessians); the
rest they drove down with their arms into the cabin and rammed the
sentry box down the companion in such a manner that no one could
get it up or down. One, Murphy, possessed himself of Gauzoo's
silver-hilted sword, and carried it off with him. When the sentries
were all silent, they manned the ship's boat and boarded the
schooner, though the people on board attempted to keep them off
with handspikes. The wind blowing fresh at south and the flood of
tide being made, they hoisted sail and were out of sight in a few
minutes. Those particulars we learned from some who were on duty,
but were unsuccessful in getting into the boat. As soon as the
sentries got possession of the vessel again, which they had no
difficulty in doing, as there was no resistance made, they posted
themselves at each hatchway and most basely and cowardly fired fore
and aft among us, pistols and musquets, for a full quarter of an
hour without intermission. By the mercy of God they touched but
four, one mortally.... After this no usage seemed severe enough for
us."

On June 22d, Freneau, who was weak with fever, was taken to the _Hunter_ hospital ship, lying in the East River. Here he languished with an intermittent fever, that threatened constantly to become "putrid" and fatal, until July 12th, when:

"The flag came alongside and cleared the hospital ship. But the
miseries we endured in getting to Elizabeth Town were many. Those
that were very bad, of which the proportion was great, naturally
took possession of the hold. No prisoner was allowed to go to the
cabin, so that I, with twenty or thirty others, were obliged to
sleep out all night, which was uncommonly cold for the season.
About ten next morning we arrived at Elizabeth Town Point, where we
were kept in the burning sun several hours, till the Commissary
came to discharge us.

"I was afflicted with such pains in my joints, I could scarcely
walk, and besides was weakened with a raging fever; nevertheless I
walked two miles to Elizabeth Town; here I got a passage in a wagon
to within a mile of Crow's Ferry, which I walked; got a passage
over the ferry and walked on as far as Molly Budleigh's, where I
stayed all night. Next morning, having breakfasted on some bread
and milk, I set homeward; when I came to Obadiah Budleigh's corner
I turned to the right and came home round about through the woods,
for fear of terrifying the neighbors with my ghastly looks had I
gone through Mount Pleasant."

Some days later he despatched the following note to his friend at Santa Cruz:

"SIR:--I take this opportunity to inform you that instead of
arriving, as I fondly promised myself, at the fragrant groves and
delectable plains of Santa Cruz, to enjoy the fruits and flowers of
that happy clime, I was unfortunately taken and confined on board a
prison ship at New York, and afterwards in a Hospital Ship, where
the damnable draughts of a German doctor afforded far different
feelings to my stomach than the juice of the orange or more
nourishing milk of the cocoa."

IV.

On April 25, 1781, there was established in Philadelphia a new weekly newspaper, the _Freeman's Journal or North American Intelligencer_, which was to be "open to all parties but influenced by none," and which had for its object "To encourage genius, to deter vice, and disrobe tyranny and misrule of every plumage." The proprietor and printer of this paper was Mr. Francis Bailey, who not long before had removed his office from Lancaster, Pa. The editor and ruling spirit, although his name during three years did not once appear in its columns, was Philip Freneau. The mark of the young poet is upon every page. Its opening editorial, which was from his pen, sounded a note that was not once lowered or weakened while he was in control.

"At no period of time, in no era of important events from the first
establishment of social government, have the liberties of man, have
the rights even of human nature, been more deeply interested than
at the time in which we presume to address you. While Liberty, the
noblest ornament of society, and without which no community can be
well organized, seemed to pine and sicken under the trammels of
despotic restraint in every one of the ancient nations of the
earth, it fairly promises to resume its pristine majesty here, and
the new world begins to emerge from the fangs and tyranny of the
old.... One of the first sources of her decline in those countries
where she last resided spring from the wanton and unhallowed
restraints which the jealous arm of despotism hath imposed on the
freedom of the press....

"That freemen may be made acquainted with the real state of their
affairs, and that the characters of their public servants, both
individually and collectively, be made manifest, is our object.
With this patriotic view, and under the tutelage of law and the
constitution, has the subscriber opened a Free Press, universally
free to every citizen indiscriminately, whose principles coincide
with those of the Revolution, and whose object is confessedly known
to point at public or private good."

From this time until June, 1784, Freneau resided principally in Philadelphia, and edited the journal. During all of this time his muse was exceedingly active. He followed carefully the last years of the war, and put into satiric verse every movement of the "insolent foe." He sang the victory of Jones, and mourned in plaintive numbers the dead at Eutaw Springs. He voiced his indignation over the destructive career of Cornwallis, and burst into a _Laus Deo_ at his fall. The ludicrous plight of Rivington and Gaine, the distress of the Tories, and the final departure of the British filled him with glee, which he poured out in song after song. It was his most prolific and spontaneous period.

He wrote, too, an abundance of prose. The series of graceful papers entitled "The Pilgrim" is from his pen, besides many a political study and literary sketch signed with a sounding name. Everywhere are manifest his love of true literature and his desire to lead a merely literary life, but here and there are notes of discouragement. "Barbers cannot possibly exist as such," he writes, "among a people who have neither hair nor beards. How, then, can a poet hope for success in a city where there are not three persons possessed of elegant ideas?"

During the year 1783 Freneau's pen was very busy in various lines of work. It is probable that he assisted Bailey in many ways,--writing introductions to publications issued by the office and performing the various other duties incumbent upon the literary editor of a publishing house. During this year he translated the "New Travels through North America," which had just been issued by the Abbé Robin, one of the chaplains of the French Army in America, and the translation was issued first by Bailey and later by Powers and Willis of Boston. Freneau's introduction is characteristic:

"Most of those accounts of North America, given to the public by
British explorators and others, previous to the Revolution, are
generally taken up, with the recitals of wonderful adventures, in
the woods beyond the Lakes, or with the Histories and records of
the wild Indian nations, so that by the time the reader gets
through one of those performances, he never fails to be better
acquainted with the _Ottagnies_, _Chereokees_, _Miamees_,
_Nadouwessians_, and a hundred others, with their various customs
of _paw-wawing_, or methods of making _wampum_, than with the most
interesting particulars relative to the _inhabitants_ of the then
colonies _these_ were but rarely thought worthy mentioning by those
gentlemen, and when they are, it is mortifying enough to see them
constantly considered as mere beasts of burden, calculated solely
for the support of the grandeur, wealth and omnipotence of
Great-Britain, than as men and Free-Men.

"Our French Author is more liberal--two years before the present
peace he considered the United States as a great independent
nation, advancing with hasty strides to the summit of power and
sovereignty."

It was during this year that the poet, for the first time, met with positive opposition and abuse. Oswald, the editor of the newly established _Gazette_, quarrelled with Bailey, and a poetical battle was one phase of the contest. The details of this affair will be found in the proper place, and I need not recount them here, but suffice it to say that Freneau soon found his muse assailed by the meanest of all critics. His extremely sensitive nature could brook no criticism. His Celtic temperament could fight fiercely in the presence of an open foe, but it was easily depressed and discouraged by criticism and covert attack. He lost heart in his work, and at the end of the third volume he quietly withdrew from his editorship.

The three volumes of the _Journal_ which bear his impress are notable for their vigor of policy, their high ideals, their unswerving patriotism, and their real literary merit. It is to be hoped that a selection from Freneau's prose writings during this critical era in our history may sometime be made. Nowhere else can we gain so distinct a picture of the man, with his sanguine, impetuous temperament, his proud spirit, and his intense hatred of every form of tyranny. He wrote vigorously not only on British oppression, but on such topics as the wrongs of negro slavery, cruelty to animals, the wanton destruction of trees, the evils of intemperance, and the rights of woman.

The "Epistle to Sylvius" was his valedictory. In it he deplores the lack of literary taste in America, and the sad fate which has befallen his youthful poetic dreams. The age is grown mercantile, and Sejanus the mighty tradesman,--

"Sejanus has in house declared
'These States, as yet, can boast no bard,
And all the sing-song of our clime
Is merely nonsense fringed with rhyme.'"

A bard with more Teutonic blood, if he knew within himself that he was indeed a poet, and the only real poet of his time, would have staid at his post and made himself heard, despite narrow criticism and mean abuse, but Freneau was too proud to fight for recognition. The people had crowned him, to be sure, but if the critics, those who should be the real judges, rejected him, he would strive no longer. He would leave the field.

"Then, Sylvius, come--let you and I
On Neptune's aid, once more rely:
Perhaps the muse may still impart
The balm to ease the aching heart.
Though cold might chill and storms dismay,
Yet Zoilus will be far away."

On June 24, 1784, Freneau sailed from Middletown Point as master of the brig _Dromilly_, bound for Jamaica. The voyage was indeed a memorable one. On the night of July 30, while off the end of the island, the ship encountered a violent hurricane. According to contemporary accounts, "No more than eight out of one hundred and fifty sail of vessels in the ports of Kingston and Port Royal were saved." The _Dromilly_ survived the storm, but it was a mere wreck when the next morning it crept into Kingston Harbor.

Freneau remained in Jamaica until September 24, when he left for Philadelphia in the brig _Mars_, arriving November 4. His experiences in trying to fit out the wrecked _Dromilly_ are not recorded, but the one incident of his poetic reply to the keeper of the King's water works, who had refused him a puncheon of water, is characteristic.

From this time until 1790, Freneau's life is redolent of the ocean. A complete itinerary of this wandering era may be compiled from the shipping news of the various seaport newspapers, but it is useless to go into details. He was master for a time of the sloop _Monmouth_, plying for freight between Charleston, S. C., New York, and Savannah. His brother Peter, in Charleston, had become a man not only of influence, but of means, and together they owned the vessel and shared its profits. For several years advertisements like this appeared in the Charleston papers:

"For freight to any part of this State or Georgia; for charter in
any free port in the West Indies, the sloop _Monmouth_, Philip
Freneau, Master, burden about 40 tons. She is new, stanch,
well-formed and draws six feet when loaded. Will carry about one
hundred barrels of rice. For further particulars inquire of said
master on board at Mrs. Motte's wharf or Peter Freneau."

On the 1st of June, 1786, there was issued from Bailey's press the first collected edition of Freneau's poetry. During the entire year its author was at sea almost continuously. It is evident that he had little to do with the edition. The copy furnished to Bailey consisted of the manuscript of a few early poems, revised copies of the 1775 pamphlets, and corrected and enlarged versions of his contributions to the _United States Magazine_. The bulk of the book is made up of Freneau's contributions to the _Freeman's Journal_, printed _seriatim_ and without change. The poem "Rivington's Confessions" is even divided into two parts, with another poem between, as it first appeared in the paper. An index of the poetry in the first four volumes of the _Journal_ is a nearly perfect index of the 1786 edition, after the poem "The Prison Ship."

Bailey wrote for the edition the following introduction:

"The pieces now collected and printed in the following sheets, were
left in my hands, by the author, above a year ago, with permission
to publish them whenever I thought proper. A considerable number of
the performances contained in this volume, as many will recollect,
have appeared at different times in Newspapers (particularly the
Freeman's Journal) and other periodical publications in the
different States of America, during the late war, and since; and
from the avidity and pleasure with which they generally appear to
have been read by persons of the best taste, the Printer now the
more readily gives them to the world in their present form,
(without troubling the reader with any affected apologies for their
supposed or real imperfections) in hopes they will afford a high
degree of satisfaction to the lovers of poetical wit, and elegance
of expression."

This edition is the most spontaneous and poetic of the poet's works. In it we see Freneau before he has lost his early poetic dream, before he has become hardened by close contact with the world of affairs and the cold, practical round of political life. This and the 1788 edition contain by far the most valuable part of his poetic work.