Chapter XI: Prologue: 120 (2)

"For news so delightful, with heart and with voice
"The Tories of every degree may rejoice;
"With charcoal and sulphur shall utter their joy
"'Till they all get as black as they paint the old Boy."

Thus, pleased with the motion, each cutting a caper,
Down they sat at the table, with pen, ink, and paper;
In less than five minutes the matter was stated,
And Jemmy turned scribe, while Satan dictated.

"Begin (said the devil) in the form of a Letter,
"(If you call it true copy, 'tis so much the better)
"Make Rodney assert he met the French fleet,
"Engaged it, and gave 'em a total defeat.

"But the better to vamp up a show of reality,
"The tale must be told with circumstantiality,
"What vessels were conquered by Britain's bold sons,
"Their quotas of men, and their number of guns.

"There's the _Villa de Paris_--one hundred and ten--
"Write down that George Rodney has killed half her men--
"That her hull and her rigging are shattered and shaken,
"Her flag humbled down, and her admiral taken.

"_Le Cesar_, 'tis true, is a seventy-four,
"But the _Villa de Paris_ was thirty-six more;
"With a grey goose's quill if that ship we did seize on,
"_Le Cesar_ must fall, or I'll know what's the reason.

"The next that I fix on to take is the _Hector_,
"(Her name may be Trojan, but shall not protect her)
"Don't faulter, dear comrade, and look like a goose,
"If we've taken these three, we can take _Glorieuse_.

"The last mentioned ship runs their loss up to four,
"_Le Diadem_ sunk, shall make it one more;
"And now, for the sake of round numbers, dear cousin,
"Write _Ardent_, and then we have just half-a-dozen!"

Jemmy smiled at the notion, and whispered "O fy!
"Indeed 'tis a shame to persuade one to lie"--
But Satan replied--"Consider, my son,
"I am a prince of the winds, and have seen what is done:

"With a conquest like this, how bright we shall shine!
"That Rodney has taken six ships of the line,
"Will be in your paper a brilliant affair;
"How the Tories will laugh, and the rebels will swear.

"But farther, dear Jemmy, make Rodney to say,
"If the sun two hours longer had held out the day,
"The rest were so beaten, so baisted, so tore,
"He had taken them all, and he knew not but more."

So the partners broke up, as good friends as they met,
And soon it was all in the _Royal Gazette_;
The Tories rejoiced at the very good news,
And said, There's no fear we shall die in our shoes.

Now let us give credit to Jemmy, forsooth,
Since once in a way he has hit on the truth:
If again he returns to his practice of lies,
He hardly reflects where he'll go when he dies.

But still, when he dies, let it never be said
That he rests in his grave with no verse at his head;
But furnish, ye poets, some short epitaph,
And something like this, that readers may laugh:

Here _lies_ a King's Printer, we needn't say who:
There is reason to think that he tells what is true:
But if he _lies_ here, 'tis not over-strange,
His present position is but a small change,
So, reader, pass on--'tis a folly to sigh,
For all his life long he did little but _lie_.

[153] The first trace that I can find of this poem is in the 1786 edition, where it is signed, "Written _April, 1782_."

On June 5, 1782, Freneau printed the following in the Journal:

"Formidable, between Guadaloupe and Monpenat,
April 14, 1782.

"Sir: I am this moment favoured with your excellency's letter, and have the happiness to acquaint you that after having had a partial engagement with the enemy on the 9th, wherein 16 of my rear were prevented by calms from joining in the action, on the 12th I had the good fortune to bring them to a general action, which lasted from seven o'clock in the morning until half-past six in the afternoon, without a moment's intermission. Count de Grasse, with the _Ville de Paris_ and four other ships of the line and one sunk, graced the victory. The remainder of their fleet was so miserably shattered and their loss of men so very great from their having their whole army consisting of 5,500 men on board the ships of war, that I am convinced it will be almost impossible to put them in a condition for service for some considerable time.

I am hastening with my whole fleet, etc.
G. B. RODNEY."

Freneau's early doubts as to this victory, which was loudly proclaimed in the _Royal Gazette_, is evidenced not only by the poem, but by the following comment on Rodney's letter:

"The unskilful forger of Sir George Rodney's letter, which is pretended to have been wafted from Jamaica to Savannah and thence to Charleston, exhibits Sir George not as a British admiral, but as a saucy upstart.... To comment on this absurd forgery would be nugatory."

[154] "For that was enough."--_Ed. 1786._

BARNEY'S INVITATION[155]

Come all ye lads who know no fear,
To wealth and honor with me steer
In the _Hyder Ali_ privateer,
Commanded by brave Barney.

She's new and true, and tight and sound,
Well rigged aloft, and all well found--
Come away and be with laurel crowned,
Away--and leave your lasses.

Accept our terms without delay,
And make your fortunes while you may,
Such offers are not every day
In the power of the jolly sailor.

Success and fame attend the brave,
But death the coward and the slave,
Who fears to plow the Atlantic wave,
To seek the bold invaders.

Come, then, and take a cruising bout,
Our ship sails well, there is no doubt,
She has been tried both in and out,
And answers expectation.

Let no proud foes whom Europe bore,
Distress our trade, insult our shore--
Teach them to know their reign is o'er,
Bold Philadelphia sailors!

We'll teach them how to sail so near,
Or to venture on the Delaware,
When we in warlike trim appear
And cruise without Henlopen.

Who cannot wounds and battle dare
Shall never clasp the blooming fair;
The brave alone their charms should share,
The brave are their protectors.

With hand and heart united all,
Prepared to conquer or to fall,
Attend, my lads, to honour's call,
Embark in our _Hyder Ali_.

From an Eastern prince[156] she takes her name,
Who, smit with Freedom's sacred flame,
Usurping Britons brought to shame,
His country's wrongs avenging;

See, on her stern the waving stars--
Inured to blood, inured to wars,
Come, enter quick, my jolly tars,
To scourge these warlike Britons.

Here's grog enough--then drink a bout,
I know your hearts are firm and stout;
American blood will never give out,
And often we have proved it.

Though stormy oceans round us roll,
We'll keep a firm undaunted soul,
Befriended by the cheering bowl,
Sworn foes to melancholy:

While timorous landsmen lurk on shore,
'Tis ours to go where cannons roar--
On a coasting cruise we'll go once more,
Despisers of all danger;

And Fortune still, who crowns the brave,
Shall guard us over the gloomy wave
A fearful heart betrays a knave--
Success to the _Hyder Ali_.

[155] "A number of gentlemen having met in the evening [about April 1, 1782] at Crawford and Donaldson's insurance office in High street and, conversing on the subject of the captures making in the bay by the _General Monk_, just then arrived, it was resolved to raise a loan of money by which to fit out a vessel which might succeed to capture her. The money was obtained of the Bank of North America upon the responsibility of sundry individuals; the _Hyder Ali_ was purchased of John W. Stanley and the command given to Capt. Barney; a crew of volunteers, chiefly from the regular service, was engaged, and a commission of a letter of marque procured. In a week the vessel was ready and sailed."--Watson's _Annals of Philadelphia_. The poem was included in the editions of 1786 and 1809. Why Freneau omitted this spirited lyric and also 'Barney's Victory over the _Monk_' from his edition of 1795 has never been explained.

[156] Hyder Ali, a prince of Mysore, India, who defeated in 1767 the British troops and forced them to sue for peace. In 1780, assisted by the French, he invaded Carnatic, but was defeated the following year by Sir Eyre Coote. From his hostility to the English and his alliance with the French he was hailed with enthusiasm by the American patriots.

SONG[157]

On Captain Barney's Victory over the Ship _General Monk_

O'er the waste of waters cruising,
Long the _General Monk_ had reigned;
All subduing, all reducing,
None her lawless rage restrained:
Many a brave and hearty fellow
Yielding to this warlike foe,
When her guns began to bellow
Struck his humbled colours low.

But grown bold with long successes,
Leaving the wide watery way,
She, a stranger to distresses,
Came to cruise within Cape May:
"Now we soon (said captain Rogers)
"Shall their men of commerce meet;
"In our hold we'll have them lodgers,
"We shall capture half their fleet.

"Lo! I see their van appearing--
"Back our topsails to the mast--
"They toward us full are steering
"With a gentle western blast:
"I've a list of all their cargoes,
"All their guns, and all their men:
"I am sure these modern Argos
"Cant escape us one in ten:

"Yonder comes the _Charming Sally_
"Sailing with the _General Greene_--
"First we'll fight the _Hyder Ali_,
"Taking her is taking them:
"She intends to give us battle,
"Bearing down with all her sail--
"Now, boys, let our cannon rattle!
"To take her we cannot fail.

"Our eighteen guns, each a nine pounder,
"Soon shall terrify this foe;
"We shall maul her, we shall wound her,
"Bringing rebel colours low."--
While he thus anticipated
Conquests that he could not gain,
He in the Cape May channel waited
For the ship that caused his pain.

Captain Barney then preparing,
Thus addressed his gallant crew--
"Now, brave lads, be bold and daring,
"Let your hearts be firm and true;
"This is a proud English cruiser,
"Roving up and down the main,
"We must fight her--must reduce her,
"Though our decks be strewed with slain.

"Let who will be the survivor,
"We must conquer or must die,
"We must take her up the river,
"Whate'er comes of you or I:
"Though she shews most formidable
"With her eighteen pointed nines,
"And her quarters clad in sable,
"Let us baulk her proud designs.

"With four nine pounders, and twelve sixes
"We will face that daring band;
"Let no dangers damp your courage,
"Nothing can the brave withstand.
"Fighting for your country's honour,
"Now to gallant deeds aspire;
"Helmsman, bear us down upon her,
"Gunner, give the word to fire!"

Then yard arm and yard arm meeting,
Strait began the dismal fray,
Cannon mouths, each other greeting,
Belched their smoky flames away:
Soon the langrage, grape and chain shot,
That from Barney's cannons flew,
Swept the _Monk_, and cleared each round top,
Killed and wounded half her crew.

Captain Rogers strove to rally
But they from their quarters fled,
While the roaring _Hyder Ali_
Covered o'er his decks with dead.
When from their tops their dead men tumbled,
And the streams of blood did flow,
Then their proudest hopes were humbled
By their brave inferior foe.

All aghast, and all confounded,
They beheld their champions fall,
And their captain, sorely wounded,
Bade them quick for quarters call.
Then the _Monk's_ proud flag descended,
And her cannon ceased to roar;
By her crew no more defended,
She confessed the contest o'er.

Come, brave boys, and fill your glasses,
You have humbled one proud foe,
No brave action this surpasses,
Fame shall tell the nations so--
Thus be Britain's woes completed,
Thus abridged her cruel reign,
'Till she ever, thus defeated,
Yields the sceptre of the main.

[157] First published in the _Freeman's Journal_ May 8, 1782, with the following introduction:

"Mr. Bailey:

"Reading Capt. Barney's late gallant exploit in your and other
newspapers, I could not restrain myself from scribbling the few
following stanzas relative to that affair and descriptive not of
what was really said or done in the most minute particulars but
of what might be supposed to have passed in similar circumstances.
Yours,
RUSTICUS.

"Dover, April 26, 1782.

"To the Tune of the Tempest or Hosier's Ghost."

The omission of this stirring lyric from the edition of 1795 I can ascribe only to accident.

ON SIR HENRY CLINTON'S RECALL[158]

The dog that is beat has a right to complain--
Sir Harry returns a disconsolate man,
To the face of his master, the Lord's[159] oil-anointed,
To the country provided for thieves disappointed.

Our freedom, he thought, to a tyrant must fall,
He concluded the weakest must go to the wall;
The more he was flattered, the bolder he grew--
He quitted the old world to conquer the new.

But in spite of the deeds he has done in his garrison,
(And they have been curious beyond all comparison)
He now must go home, at the call of his king,
To answer the charges that Arnold may bring.

But what are the acts that this chief has atchieved?--
If good, it is hard he should now be aggrieved,
And the more, as he fought for his national glory,
Nor valued, a farthing, the right of the story.

This famous great man, and two birds[A] of his feather,
In the _Cerberus_ frigate came over together;
But of all the bold chiefs that re-measure the trip,
Not two have been known to return in one ship.[160]

[A] Generals Howe and Burgoyne.--_Freneau's note._

Like children that wrestle and scuffle in sport,
They are very well pleased as long as unhurt,
But a thump on the nose, or a blow in the eye,
Ends the fray--and they go to their daddy and cry.

Sir Clinton, thy deeds have been mighty and many,
You said all our paper was not worth a penny,
('Tis nothing but rags,[B] quoth honest Will Tryon,
Are rags to discourage the Sons of the Lion?)

[B] See his Letters to Gen. Parsons.--_Freneau's note._

But Clinton thought thus--"It is folly to fight,
"When things may by easier methods come right,
"There is such an art as counterfeit-ation--
"And I'll do my utmost to honour our nation;

"I'll shew this damned country that I can enslave her,
"And that by the help of a skilful engraver,
"And then let the rebels take care of their bacon,
"We'll play them a trick, or I'm vastly mistaken."

But the project succeeded not quite to your liking,
So you paid off your artist and gave up bill striking;
But 'tis an affair I am glad you are quit on,
You had surely been hanged had you tried it in Britain.

At the taking of Charleston you cut a great figure,
The terms you propounded were terms full of rigour,
Yet could not foresee poor Charley's[C] disgrace,
Nor how soon your own colours would go to the case.

[C] Cornwallis.--_Ib._

When the town had surrendered, the more to disgrace ye,
(Like another true Briton that did it at 'Statia)
You broke all the terms yourself had extended,
Because you supposed the rebellion was ended;

Whoever the Tories marked out as a Whig,
If gentle, or simple, or little, or big,
No matter to you--to kill 'em and spite 'em,
You soon had 'em up where the dogs couldn't bite 'em.

Then thinking these rebels were snug and secure,
You left them to Rawdon and Nesbit Balfour:
(The face of the latter a mask should be drawed on,
And to fish for the devil my bait should be Rawdon.)

Returning to York with your ships and your plunder,
And boasting that rebels must shortly knock under,
The first thing that struck you, as soon as you landed,
Was the fortress at West-Point, where Arnold commanded.

Thought you, "If friend Arnold this fort will deliver,
"We then shall be masters of all Hudson's river,
"The east and the south losing communication,
"The Yankies will die by the act of starvation."

So off you sent Andre (not guided by Pallas)
Who soon purchased Arnold, and with him the gallows;
Your loss I conceive than your gain was far greater,
You lost a good fellow, and got a vile[161] traitor.

Now Carleton comes over to give you relief,
A knight like yourself, and commander in chief,
But the chief he will get, you may tell the dear honey,
Will be a black eye, hard knocks, and no money.

Now with--"Britons, strike home!" your sorrows dispel,
Away to your master, and honestly tell,
That his arms and his artists can nothing avail,
His men are too few, and his tricks are too stale.

Advise him at length to be just and sincere;
Of which not a sympton as yet doth appear,
As we plainly perceive from his sending Sir Guy
The Treaty to break with our Gallic Ally.[162]

[158] First published in the _Freeman's Journal_, May 22, 1782. Sir Henry Clinton was superseded as Commander-in-Chief of the British armies in America by Sir Guy Carleton, who took command May 5, 1782.

[159] "Devil's."--_Ed. 1786._

[160] In 1775 Lord Howe was appointed Admiral of the British fleet in North America and leader of the commission to effect if possible a reconciliation with the colonists. With him were sent two major-generals, Clinton and Burgoyne, to conduct the war with vigor if war were found to be inevitable. The three leaders arrived in Boston May 25, 1775.

[161] "Damn'd."--_Ed. 1786._

[162] "Commission'd to steal, and commission'd to lie."--_Ed. 1786._

SIR GUY CARLETON'S ADDRESS TO THE AMERICANS[163]

From Britain's famed island once more I come over,
(No island on earth is in prowess above her)
With powers and commissions your hearts to recover!

Our king, I must tell you, is plagued with a phantom
(Independence they call it) that hourly doth haunt him,
And relief, my dear rebels, you only can grant him.

Tom Gage and Sir Harry, Sir William, (our boast)
Lord Howe, and the rest that have travelled the coast,
All failed in their projects of laying this ghost:

So unless the damned spectre myself can expel
It will yet kill our monarch, I know very well,
And gallop him off on his lion to hell.

But I heartily wish, that, instead of Sir Guy,
They had sent out a seer from the island of Skie,
Who rebels, and devils, and ghosts could defy:

So great is our prospect of failing at last,
When I look at the present, and think of the past,
I wish with our heroes I had not been classed;

For though, to a man, we are bullies and bruisers,
And covered with laurels, we still are the losers,
'Till each is recalled with his Tory accusers:

But the war now is altered, and on a new plan;
By negociation we'll do what we can--
And I am an honest, well-meaning old man;

Too proud to retreat, and too weak to advance,
We must stay where we are, at the mercy of chance,
'Till Fortune shall help us to lead you a dance.

Then lay down your arms, dear rebels--O hone!
Our king is the best man that ever was known,
And the greatest that ever was stuck on a throne:

His love and affection by all ranks are sought;
Here take him, my honies, and each pay a groat--
Was ever a monarch more easily bought?

In pretty good case and very well found,
By night and by day we carry him round:
He must go for a groat, if we can't get a pound.

Break the treaties you made with Louis Bourbon;
Abandon the Congress, no matter how soon,
And then, all together, we'll play a new tune.

'Tis strange that they always would manage the roast,
And force you their healths and the Dauphin's to toast;
Repent, my dear fellows, and each get a post:

Or, if you object that one post is too few,
We generous Britons will help you to two,
With a beam laid across--that will certainly do.

The folks that rebelled in the year forty-five,
We used them so well that we left few alive,
But sent them to heaven in swarms from their hive.

Your noble resistance we cannot forget,
'Tis nothing but right we should honour you yet;
If you are not rewarded, we die in your debt.

So, quickly submit and our mercy implore,
Be as loyal to George as you once were before,
Or I'll slaughter you all--and probably more.

What puzzled Sir Harry, Sir Will, and his brother,
Perhaps may be done by the son of my mother,
With the Sword in one hand and a Branch in the other.

My bold predecessors (as fitting their station)
At their first coming out, all spoke Proclamation;
'Tis the custom with us, and the way of our nation.

Then Kil-al-la-loo!--Shelaly, I say;--
If we cannot all fight, we can all run away--
And further at present I choose not to say.

[163] First published in the _Freeman's Journal_, June 5, 1782 and dated May 30, 1782. Carleton was not only empowered to take command of the army in America, but he was also sent as "Commissioner for making peace in North America." He remained in the city until November 25, 1783, when he departed with the army.

SCANDANAVIAN WAR SONG[164]

_Balderi patris scamna
Parata scio in aula:
Bibemus Cerevisiam
Ex concavis crateribus craniorum.
Non gemit vir fortis contra mortem
Magnifici in Odini domibus, &c._

_Translation_

Brave deeds atchieved, at death's approach I smile,
In Balder's hall I see the table spread,
The enlivening ale shall now reward my toil,
Quaffed from their sculls, that by my faulchion bled.

Heroes no more at death's approach shall groan:
In lofty Odin's dome all sighs forbear--
Conscious of bloody deeds, my fearless soul
Mounts to great Odin's hall, and revels there.

[164] First printed June 19, 1782, in number 16 of the series of papers contributed to the first volume of the _Freeman's Journal_ under the title _The Pilgrim_, and reprinted to some extent in the edition of 1788 under the title _The Philosopher of the Forest_. The essay, which might be entitled "On the Irrationality of War," contained the following passage:

"They [the Scandinavians] imagined the chief pleasure of this immortality would be to drink beer out of bowls made of the skulls of the enemies they had slain in battle, according to the number of which every one was to be esteemed and honored in the mansions of another world. Their war songs were particularly horrible to the imagination, and full of those savage notions of valor and romantic heroism that is to this day observable in the North American Indians.... Is it possible that a being illuminated by the rays of that spiritual sun could in his senses write the following lines: they were composed (with a great deal more) by one of the warrior chiefs of the Scandinavians more than 800 years since, a few hours before he expired?"

THE PROJECTORS[165]

Before the brazen age began,
And things were yet on Saturn's plan,
None knew what sovereign bliss there lay
In ruling, were it but a day.
Each with spontaneous food content,
His life in Nature's affluence spent;
The sun was mild, serene and clear,
And walked in Libra all the year;
No tempests did the heaven deform,
'Twas not too cold nor yet too warm;
People were then at small expence,
They dug no ditch, and made no fence,
No patentees by sleight or chance
For Indian lands got double grants,
Not for their wants, but just to say,
"If you come here, expect to pay."
Base grasping souls, your pride repress;
Beyond your wants must you possess?
If ten poor acres will supply
A rustic and his family,
Why, Jobbers, would you have ten score,
Ten thousand and ten thousand more?
It is a truth well understood,
"All would be tyrants if they could."
The love of sway has been confessed
The ruling passion of the breast:
Those who aspire to govern states,
If baulked by disapproving fates,
Resolve their purpose to fulfil,
And scheme for tenants at their will.
Ten thousand acres, fit for toil,
In Indiana's fertile soil--
Ten thousand acres! come, agree--
Timon is named[166] the patentee,
And, as the longing stomach craves,
He'll honour fools and flatter knaves.
If Rome, of old, to greatness rose
Triumphant over all her foes,
None need believe that people then
Were more in strength than modern men;
If o'er the world their eagles waved,
'Twas property their freedom saved;[167]
From lands, not shared amongst the few,
An independent spirit grew:
Each on a small and scanty spot,
With much ado his living got,
Inured to labour from his birth,[168]
Each Roman soldier tilled the earth,
Great as a monarch on the throne
By having something of his own.

[165] First published in the _Freeman's Journal_, July 3, 1782, under the signature "Cassibilan." I have followed the 1809 text.

[166] "Let me become."--_Ed. 1786._

[167] "'Twas policy the world enslav'd."--_Ib._

[168] This line and the following not in the 1786 version.

ON GENERAL ROBERTSON'S PROCLAMATION[169]

Old Judas the traitor (nor need we much wonder)
Falling down from the gallows, his paunch split asunder,
Affording, 'tis likely, a horrible scent
Rather worse than the sulphur of hell, where he went.

So now this bra' chieftain, who long has suspended
And kept out of view what his master intended,
Bursts out all at once, and an inside discloses,
Disgusting the Tories, who stop up their noses.

The short of the matter is this, as I take it--
New-York of true Britons is plainly left naked,
And their conduct amounts to an honest confession,
That they cannot depend on the run-a-way Hessian.

In such a dilemma pray what should they do?
Hearts loyal, to whom should they look but to You?--
You know pretty well how to handle the spade,
To dig their canals and to make a parade;

The city is left to your valiant defence,
And of course it will be but of little expence,
Since there is an old fellow that looks somewhat sooty
Who, gratis, will help you in doing your duty--

"In doing our duty!--'tis duty indeed
"(Says a Tory) if this be the way that we speed;
"We never loved fighting, the matter is clear--
"If we had, I am sure we had never come here.

"George we owned for our king, as his true loyal sons,
"But why will he force us to manage his guns?--
"Who 'list in the army or cruise on the wave,
"Let them do as they will--'tis their trade to be brave.

"Guns, mortars and bullets,[170] we easily face,
"But when they're in motion--it alters the case;
"To skirmish with Huddies[A] is all our desire
"For though we can murder, we cannot stand fire.

[A] Capt. Huddy, an American Captain, who, after capitulating
in a block-house, was hanged by refugees, called new
levies.--_Freneau's note._

"To the standards of Britain we fled for protection,
"And there we are gathered, a goodly collection;
"And most of us think it is rather too hard
"For refusing to arm to be put under guard;

"Who knows under guard what ills we may feel!--
"It is an expression that means a great deal--
"'Mongst the rebels they fine 'em who will not turn out,
"But here we are left in a sorrowful doubt;--

"These Britons were always so sharp and so shifty--
"The rebels excuse you from serving when fifty,
"But here we are counted such wonderful men
"We are kept in the ranks, till we are four score and ten.

"Kicked, cuffed and ill treated from morning till night
"We have room to conjecture that all is not right,
"For Freedom we fled from our country's defence
"And freedom we'll get--when death sends us hence.[171]

"If matters go thus, it is easy to see
"That as idiots we've been, so slaves we shall be;
"And what will become of that peaceable train
"Whose tenets enjoin them from war to abstain?

"Our city commandant must be an odd shaver,
"Not a single exception to make in their favour!--
"Come let us turn round and rebelliously sing,
"Huzza for the Congress!--the de'il take the king."

[169] First published in the _Freeman's Journal_, June 10, 1782, prefaced by the following reprint of the proclamation taken from Rivington's _Royal Gazette_ of the 26th of June:

"By His Excellency Lieutenant-General JAMES ROBERTSON, _Governor of New York, &c., &c._ The Commander-in-chief having shown the great confidence he reposes in the Citizens of New York by trusting his Majesty's interest there, to their Zeal, Loyalty, and Gallantry, I persuade myself that every citizen will with alacrity claim his title to a share of the Militia duty; that none may be deprived of this, and that those whose zeal would lead them to appear whenever called for, may not be called for too often, I think proper to declare:

"That all persons are to perform the Militia duty, excepting the Ministers of God's Word, his Majesty's Counsellors and principal servants whose avocations to religious and civil, necessarily prevents their attendance on Military duties.

"All persons who from age or infirmity are unable to act, may do duty by substitutes, providing those they offer are judged sufficient by the Colonel of the regiment, or commanding officer of the corps to which they belong.

"If any of the Gentlemen of the learned professions find themselves so usefully employed as to be induced to avoid the honour of appearing in person, they are supposed to be judges of the importance of their own time, and may act by proper substitutes.

"As no person deserves protection in a place of which he refuses to contribute to the defence; every person who refuses to appear when summoned to his Militia duty is to be confined in the Main-Guard by the Colonel or commanding Officer of the corps to which he belongs, where he is to be kept till further orders.

JAMES ROBERTSON.
New York, June 22, 1782."

[170] "Gun bullets in boxes."--_Ed. 1786._

[171] In place of this stanza, the edition of 1786 had the following:

"Provided the clergy but preach non-resistance
"And passive obedience--they wave their assistance;
"But we--tho' we're sick and have death in our faces,
"Must purchase a proxy to serve in our places."

A PICTURE OF THE TIMES[172]

With Occasional Reflections

Still round the world triumphant Discord flies,
Still angry kings to bloody contest rise;
Hosts bright with steel, in dreadful order plac'd,
And ships contending on the watery waste;
Distracting demons every breast engage,
Unwearied nations glow with mutual rage;
Still to the charge the routed Briton turns,
The war still rages and the battle burns;
See, man with man in deadly combat join,
See, the black navy form the flaming line;
Death smiles alike at battles lost or won--
Art does for him what Nature would have done.
Can scenes like these delight the human breast?--
Who sees with joy humanity distrest;
Such tragic scenes fierce passion might prolong,
But slighted Reason says, they must be wrong.
Curs'd be the day, how bright soe'er it shin'd,
That first made kings the masters of mankind;
And curs'd the wretch who first with regal pride
Their equal rights to equal men deny'd.
But curs'd o'er all, who first to slav'ry broke
Submissive bow'd and own'd a monarch's yoke,
Their servile souls his arrogance ador'd
And basely own'd a brother for a lord;
Hence wrath and blood, and feuds and wars began,
And man turned monster to his fellow man.
Not so that age of innocence and ease
When men, yet social, knew no ills like these;
Then dormant yet, ambition (half unknown)
No rival murder'd to possess a throne;
No seas to guard, no empires to defend--
Of some small tribe the father and the friend.
The hoary sage beneath his sylvan shade
Impos'd no laws but those which reason made;
On peace not war, on good not ill intent,
He judg'd his brethren by their own consent;
Untaught to spurn those brethren to the dust;
In virtue firm, and obstinately just,
For him no navies rov'd from shore to shore.
No slaves were doom'd to dig the glitt'ring ore;
Remote from all the vain parade of state,
No slaves in diamonds saunter'd at his gate,
Nor did his breast the guilty passions tear,
He knew no murder and he felt no fear.
Was this the patriarch sage?--Then turn thine eyes
And view the contrast that our age supplies;
Touch'd from the life, I trace no ages fled,
I draw no curtain that conceals the dead;
To distant Britain let thy view be cast,
And say the present far exceeds the past;
Of all the plagues that e'er the world have curs'd,
Name George the tyrant, and you name the worst!
What demon, hostile to the human kind,
Planted these fierce disorders in the mind?
All urg'd alike, one phantom we pursue,
But what has war with happiness to do?
In death's black shroud this gem can ne'er be found;
Who deals for that the life-destroying wound,
Or pines with grief to see a brother live,
That life dissolving which we cannot give?
'Tis thine, Ambition!--Thee these horrors suit:
Lost to the human, she assumes the brute;
She proudly vain or insolently bold,
Her heart revenge, her eye intent on gold,
Sway'd by the madness of the present hour
Mistakes for happiness extent of power;
That shining bait which dropt in folly's way
Tempts the weak mind, and leads the heart astray!
Thou happiness! still sought but never found,
We, in a circle, chase thy shadow round;
Meant all mankind in different forms to bless,
Which yet possessing, we no more possess:--
Thus far remov'd and painted on the eye
Smooth verdant fields seem blended with the sky,
But where they both in fancied contact join
In vain we trace the visionary line;
Still as we chase, the empty circle flies,
Emerge new mountains or new oceans rise.

[172] Contributed to the July 19, 1782, issue of the _Freeman's Journal_ over the signature "Philomeides." The title in the 1786 edition was "Philosophical Reflections." I have used the original text.

PRINCE WILLIAM HENRY'S SOLILOQUY[173]

Occasioned by Public Rejoicings in Philadelphia for the birth of
the Dauphin of France, son to Louis XVI

People are mad thus to adore the Dauphin--
Heaven grant the brat may soon be in his coffin--[174]
The honours here to this young Frenchman shown,
Of right should be Prince George's, or my own;
And all those wreathes that bloom on Louis now,
Should hang, unfading, on my father's brow.
To these far shores with longing hopes I came,
(By birth a Briton, not unknown to fame)
Pleasures to share that loyalty imparts,
Subdue the rebels, and regain their hearts.
Weak, stupid expectation--all is done!
Few are the prayers that rise for George's son;
Nought through the waste of these wide realms I trace,
But rage, contempt, and curses on our race,
Hosts with their chiefs by bold usurpers won,
And not a blessing left for George's son!
Here on these isles[A] (my terrors not a few)
I walk attended by the Tory crew:
These from the first have done their best to please,
But who would herd with sycophants like these?
This exiled race, who their lost shores bemoan,
Would bow to Satan, if he held our throne--
Rul'd by their fears--and what is meaner far,
Have worshipp'd William only for his star!
To touch my hand their thronging thousands strove,
And tir'd my patience with unceasing love--
In fame's fair annals told me I should live,
But they, poor creatures, had no fame to give:
Must Digby's royal pupil walk the streets,
And smile on every ruffian that he meets;
Or teach them, as he has done--he knows when--
That kings and princes are no more than men?
Must I alas disclose, to our disgrace,
That Britain is too small for George's race?
Here in the west, where all did once obey,
Three islands only, now, confess our sway;
And in the east we have not much to boast,
For _Hyder Ali_ drives us from the coast:
Yield, rebels, yield--or I must go once more
Back to the white cliffs of my native shore;
(Where, in process of time, shall go sir Guy,
And where sir Harry has returned to sigh,
Whose hands grew weak when things began to cross,
Nor made one effort to retrieve our loss)
Oatmeal and Scottish kale pots round me rise,
And Hanoverian turnips greet mine eyes;--
Welch goats and naked rocks my bosom swell,
And Teague! dear Teague!--to thee I bid farewell--
Curse on the Dauphin and his friends, I say,
He steals our honours and our rights away.
Digby--our anchors!--weigh them to the bow,
And eastward through the wild waves let us plow:
Such dire resentments in my bosom burn,
That to these shores I never will return,
'Till fruits and flowers on Zembla's coast are known,
And seas congeal beneath the torrid zone.

[A] New York and the neighbouring islands.--_Freneau's note._

[173] _Freeman's Journal_, July 24, 1782. Text from edition of 1786.

[174] The prayer of the prince was soon answered.

SATAN'S REMONSTRANCE[175]

[Occasioned by Mr. Rivington's Late Apology for _Lying_]

Your golden dreams, your flattering schemes,
Alas! where are they fled, Sir?
Your plans derang'd, your prospects chang'd,
You now may go to bed, Sir.--

How could you thus, my partner dear,
Give up the hopes of many a year?--
Your fame retriev'd, and soaring high,
In Truth's resemblance seem'd to fly;
But now you grow so wondrous wise,
You turn, and own that all is lies.

A fabric that from hell we rais'd,
On which astonish'd rebels gaz'd,
And which the world shall ne'er forget,
No less than Rivington's Gazette,
Demolish'd at a single stroke--
The angel Gabriel might provoke.

"That all was lies," might well be true,
But why must this be told by you?
Great master of the wooden head,
Where is thy wonted cunning fled?
It was a folly to engage
That truth henceforth should fill your page,
When you must know, as well as I,
Your only mission is to lie.

Such are the plans which folly draws--
We now, like bears, may suck our paws;--
Brought up in lying from your youth,
You should have dy'd a foe to truth,
Since none but fools in this accord,
That Virtue is its own reward.[176]

Your fortune was as good as made,
Great artist in the lying trade!
But now I see with grief and pain
Your credit cannot rise again:
No more the favourite of my heart,
No more will I my gifts impart.

Yet something shall you gain at last
For lies contriv'd in seasons past--
When pressing to the narrow gate
I'll show the portal mark'd by Fate,
Where all mankind (as parsons say)
Are apt to take the wider way,
And, though the Royal Printer swear,
Will bolt him in, and keep him there!

[175] First published in the _Freeman's Journal_, August 7, 1782, with the note, "See the _Royal Gazette_ of the 10th ult. and our last." The article in the _Royal Gazette_ is as follows:

"_To the Public:_

"The Publisher of this paper, sensible that his zeal for the
success of his Majesty's arms, his sanguine wishes for the good of
his country and his friendship for individuals, have at times led
him to credit and circulate paragraphs without investigating the
facts so closely as his duty to the public demanded, trusting to
their feelings and depending on their generosity, he begs them to
look over past errors and depend on future correctness, for
henceforth he will neither desire nor expect nor solicit their
favors longer than his endeavors shall stamp the same degree of
authenticity and credit on the _Royal Gazette_ (of N. Y.) as all
Europe allow to the _Royal Gazette_ of London."

The _Freeman's Journal_ reprinted this on July 31, with the comment: "From hence it is to be presumed that Satan, Rivington & Co. have thoughts of breaking up partnership." The text follows the edition of 1786.

[176] This stanza, printed in the edition of 1786, was omitted from the later editions.

THE REFUGEES' PETITION TO SIR GUY CARLETON[177]

_Humbly Sheweth--_

That your Honour's petitioners,[178] Tories by trade,
From the first of the war have lent Britain their aid,
And done all they could, both in country and town,
In support of the king and the rights of his crown;
But now, to their grief and confusion, they find
"The de'il may take them who are farthest behind."

In the rear of all rascals they still have been placed
And Rebels and Frenchmen[179] full often have faced,
Have been in the midst of distresses and doubt
Whene'er they came in or whene'er they went out;
Have supported the king and defended his church
And now, in the end, must be left in the lurch.

Though often, too often, his arms were disgraced,
We still were in hopes he would conquer at last,
And restore us again to our sweethearts and wives
The pride of our hearts and the joy of our lives--
But he promised too far, and we trusted too much,
And who could have looked for a war with the Dutch?

Our board broken up, and discharged from our stations,
Sir Guy! it is cruel to cut off our rations;
Of a project like that, whoe'er was the mover,
It is, we must tell you, a hellish manoeuvre,
A plan to destroy us--the basest of tricks
By means of starvation, a stigma to fix.[180]

If a peace be intended, as people surmise,
(Though we hope from our souls these are nothing but lies)
Inform us at once what we have to expect,
Nor treat us, as usual, with surly neglect;
Or else, while you Britons are shipping your freights[181]
We'll go to the Rebels, and get our estates.

[177] First published in the _Freeman's Journal_, August 28, 1782. Sir Guy Carleton's generous and humane nature was in marked contrast with the cruelty of his predecessors. Text is from the edition of 1809.

[178] The anxiety of the Tories during the closing months of the war was exceedingly great. Sir Guy Carleton, the commander-in-chief, was, during all his stay in America, delayed with petitions, complaints, and remonstrances.

[179] "Halters and gibbets."--_Ed. 1786._

[180] "To get us away to the shallows of Styx."--_Ed. 1786._

[181] "By the mass and the will of the fates."--_Ib._

SIR GUY'S ANSWER

We have reason to think there will soon be a peace,
And that war with the Rebels will certainly cease;
But, be that as it will, I would have you to know
That as matters are changing, we soon may change too;
In short, I would say, (since I have it at heart)
Though the war should continue, yet we may depart.

Four offers in season I therefore propose,
(As much as I can do in reason, God knows)
In which, though there be not too plentiful carving,
There still is sufficient to keep you from starving.

And, first of the first, it would mightily charm me
To see you, my children, enlist in the army,
Or enter the navy, and get for your pay,
A farthing an hour, which is sixpence per day--
There's Hector Clackmanan, and Arthur O'Gregor
And Donald M'Donald shall rule you with vigour:

If these do not suit you, then take your new plan,
Make your peace with the rebels, (march off to a man):[182]
There rank and distinction perhaps you may find
And rise into offices fit to your mind--
But if still you object--I advise you to take a
Farewell to New-York--and away to Jamaica.[183]

[182] "That is, if you can."--_Ed. 1786._

[183]

"But if still you object--to be all on a level,
_Burn up your red coats and go off to the Devil_."
--_Ib._

TO A CONCEALED ROYALIST[184]

On a Virulent Attack

"_We have force to crumble you into dust, although you were as hard
as rocks, adamant, or jasper._"
KIEN-LHI, _alias_ JOHN TUCK, _Viceroy of Canton_.[185]

When round the bark the howling tempest raves
Tossed in the conflict of a thousand waves,
The lubber landsmen weep, complain, and sigh,
And on the pilot's skill, or heaven, rely;
Lurk in their holes, astonished and aghast,
Dreading the moment that must be their last.
The tempest done--their terror also ceases,
And up they come, and shew their shameless faces,
At once feel bold, and tell the pilot, too,
He did no more than they--themselves--could do!
A Foe to Tyrants! one your pen restores:--
There is a Tyrant whom your soul adores:
And every line you write too plainly shows,
Your heart is hostile to that tyrant's foes.
What, worse than folly, urged this genius dull
With Churchill's[186] wreathes to shade his leaden scull:
So, midnight darkness union claims with light:
So, oil and water in one mass unite:--
No more your rage in plundered verse repeat,
Sink into prose--even there no safe retreat.[187]
Reed's[188] patriot fame to distant years may last,
When rancorous reptiles to the dogs are cast,
Or, where oblivion spreads her weary wings,
Lost in the lumber of forgotten things;
And none shall ask, nor wish to know, nor care,
Who--what their names--or when they lived--or where.[189]

[184] During the summer of 1782 the _Freeman's Journal_ waged a bitter warfare with the _Independent Gazetteer_, a paper which had been established in Philadelphia on April 13, 1782, by Eleazer Oswald. To such extremes did this quarrel go that Oswald, defeated by the more nimble pen of his adversary, at length challenged him to a duel. The above poem marks the beginning of the poetical phase of the battle. It appeared in the _Journal_ on the 28th of August and was a reply to the following effusion published in the _Gazetteer_ four days previously:

"MR. OSWALD: The following lines are addressed to a most infamous
Tyrant,... and to a noted speculator when high in office. Yours, &c.,
A FOE TO TYRANTS.

"Be wicked as you will, do all that's base,
Proclaim yourselves the monsters of your race,
Let vice and folly your dark souls divide,
Be proud with meanness and be mean with pride,
Deaf to the voice of faith and honour, fall
From side to side, yet be of none at all:
Spurn all those charities, those sacred ties,
Which nature, in her bounty, good as wise,
To work our safety and ensure her plan,
Contriv'd to bind and rivet man to man:
Lift against Virtue pow'r's oppressive rod,
Betray your country, and deny your God."
But candour in some future day will scan
The actions of pale Joe and brazen Sam,
Who're lost to virtue and all sense of shame,
They've barter'd honour for some villain's name:
Yet may they pass unnotic'd in the throng
And, free from envy, safely sneak along;
Let Clarkson tell how Joe is in disgrace
And honest Jack will follow up the chase."

[185] This title first appeared in the 1809 edition. In the edition of 1795 the title was "To Shylock Ap-Shenkin, an abusive court writer."

[186] The twelve lines in quotation points in the poem by "The Foe to Tyrants" were taken, with little change, from Churchill's "Epistle to William Hogarth."

[187] "Sneak into prose--the dunce's last retreat."--_Ed. 1786._

[188] The attack of "The Foe to Tyrants" was directed mainly against General Joseph Reed, the "pale Joe" of the poem. So bitter and persistent were the attacks of "Oswald's Scribblers" that Reed, in the _Journal_ of Sept. 11, published a protest against the "set of men in this city [who] uninjured and unprovoked by me are weekly pouring forth some abuse under anonymous signatures." And early in 1783 he put forth a pamphlet entitled "Remarks on a late publication in the _Independent Gazetteer_, with a short address to the people of Pennsylvania on the many libels and slanders which have lately appeared against the author." A second edition was called for several weeks after the first issue of this pamphlet.

[189] Freneau signed these lines as they appeared in the _Journal_ "A FOE TO MALICE."

TO THE CONCEALED ROYALIST[190]

In Answer to a Second Attack[191]

_Quid immerentes hospites vexas, canis
Ignavus adversum lupos?
Quin huc inanes, si potes, vertis minas,
Et me remorsurum petis?--_
--Hor. _Epod._ 10.

Base as they are, this rancorous royal crew[192]
Seem baser still, when they are praised by you.
By you adorned in regal garb they shine,
Sweat through your verse, and stink in every line.
True child of folly--eldest of her tribe--
How could you dream that you were worth a bribe.--
Ill-fated scribbler, with a pointless quill,
Retract the threat you dare not to fulfil:
Round your own neck the wythe or halter twine,
And be the science of a hangman thine:--[193]
Have we from you purloined one shred of wit,
Or did we imitate one line you writ?
Peace to your verse!--we do not rob the dead,
The clay-cold offspring of a brazen head.
Doctor! retire! what madness would it be
To point artillery at a mite like thee?--
Such noxious vermin clambering from their shell,
By squibs and crackers might be killed as well.
But, if you must torment the world with rhymes,
(Perhaps you came to curse us for our crimes)
In sleepy odes indulge your smoky wit,
Pindarics would your happy genius fit--
With your coarse white-wash daub some miscreant's face,
Puppies advanced, or traitors in disgrace:[194]
To gain immense renown we leave you free,
Go, scratch and scribble, uncontrouled by me:--
Haste to the realms of nonsense and despair--
The ghosts of murdered rhymes will meet you there;
Like rattling chains provoke unceasing fears,
And with eternal jinglings--stun your ears.

[190] This poem appeared in the _Journal_, September 4, 1782, in answer to the following, which had been published in the _Gazetteer_, August 31, 1782:

"MR. OSWALD: _Please give the following Lines, addressed to the_ Foe
to Malice, _a Place in your useful Paper; in order to convince this
great_ Poet (_who never borrowed a Line in his Life_) _how easy it
is to take his Battery, and turn it against himself_.
A FOE TO TYRANTS.

"When in the Bark, the unskilful Pilot raves,
And lets her drive amidst conflicting waves;
The free-born Landsmen rous'd, complain, and cry.
What Pilot's this, on whom we can't rely?
We're wreck'd, undone, and driven on the shore,
Unless you quit the helm, and steer no more.
The Pilot, conscious of the mischief done,
Not knowing what to do, or where to run,
Lurks to his hole, astonish'd and aghast,
Dreading the moment that must be his last.
The tempest o'er--his terrors also fled,
Once more upon the deck he shews his head,
At once grown brave, he tells the people too,
He did for them, whatever man could do.
But cease thy boasting--Freemen all will think,
A Bark thus manag'd, in the deep must sink.

"A FOE TO TYRANTS--ne'er receiv'd a Bribe,
Nor Gold ador'd, nor stuck to Johnston's side;
With malice stupid, ev'ry line must show,
The man that's Johnston's friend is not thy foe.
What wond'rous fancy urg'd thy genius bright,
To speak of Churchill--as if thou coud'st write;
To shine in _borrow'd plumes_, with base design,
And to oblivion worthy men consign.
Reptiles and Dogs, and all those dreary things,
Bespeak the mind from whence such slander springs;
Dirt thou may'st throw--the dunce's last retreat,
For none but dunces will thy lines repeat.
Not Churchill's wreathes, but hick'ry withes will do,
To twine thy brows, and lace thy jacket too;
Leave thy friend R----, we've had enough of him,
For abler Pilots live the Bark to trim.
What! if a thousand JOES should wince and bawl,
One honest JACK would make amends for all."

[191] The title in the edition of 1786 was "To the Foe to Tyrants," and in 1795 "To Shylock Ap-Shenkin." Freneau translates the stanza from Horace as follows: "A dog, cowardly against wolves, yet molests strangers that have no quarrel with him--approach, whelp, and attack us, who are able to dash your teeth down your throat."

[192] "Vile as they are, this lukewarm Tory crew."--_Ed. 1786._

[193]

"And round your neck the wythe or halter twine,
And be the office of the hangman mine."--_Ed. 1786._

[194] "Blockheads in power or traitors in disgrace."--_Ed. 1786._

TO THE CONCEALED ROYALIST[195]

On His Farewell

"I will meet you, Brutus, at Philippi."--_Roman History._