[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]
(No island on earth is in prowess above her)
With powers and commissions your hearts to recover!
(Independence they call it) that hourly doth haunt him,
And relief, my dear rebels, you only can grant him.
Lord Howe, and the rest that have travelled the coast,
All failed in their projects of laying this ghost:
It will yet kill our monarch, I know very well,
And gallop him off on his lion to hell.
They had sent out a seer from the island of Skie,
Who rebels, and devils, and ghosts could defy:
When I look at the present, and think of the past,
I wish with our heroes I had not been classed;
And covered with laurels, we still are the losers,
'Till each is recalled with his Tory accusers:
By negociation we'll do what we can—
And I am an honest, well-meaning old man;
We must stay where we are, at the mercy of chance,
'Till Fortune shall help us to lead you a dance.
Our king is the best man that ever was known,
And the greatest that ever was stuck on a throne:
Here take him, my honies, and each pay a groat—
Was ever a monarch more easily bought?
By night and by day we carry him round:
He must go for a groat, if we can't get a pound.
Abandon the Congress, no matter how soon,
And then, all together, we'll play a new tune.
And force you their healths and the Dauphin's to toast;
Repent, my dear fellows, and each get a post:
We generous Britons will help you to two,
With a beam laid across—that will certainly do.
We used them so well that we left few alive,
But sent them to heaven in swarms from their hive.
'Tis nothing but right we should honour you yet;
If you are not rewarded, we die in your debt.
Be as loyal to George as you once were before,
Or I'll slaughter you all—and probably more.
Perhaps may be done by the son of my mother,
With the Sword in one hand and a Branch in the other.
At their first coming out, all spoke Proclamation;
'Tis the custom with us, and the way of our nation.
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]
Parata scio in aula:
Bibemus Cerevisiam
Ex concavis crateribus craniorum.
Non gemit vir fortis contra mortem
Magnifici in Odini domibus, &c.
Translation
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.
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]
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]
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.
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.
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.
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;
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—
"(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.
"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.
[A] Capt. Huddy, an American Captain, who, after capitulating in a block-house, was hanged by refugees, called new levies.—Freneau's note.
"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;
"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;—
"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.
"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]
"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?
"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:
"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 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
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]
Alas! where are they fled, Sir?
Your plans derang'd, your prospects chang'd,
You now may go to bed, Sir.—
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.
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.
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.
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]
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.
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]
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."
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.
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?
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 manœuvre,
A plan to destroy us—the basest of tricks
By means of starvation, a stigma to fix.[180]
(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
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.
(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.