The Poems of Philip Freneau Volume II Part 31

But our terrors soon vanished, for suddenly Sears Renewed our lost courage and dried up our tears.

Our memories, indeed, must have strangely decayed If we cannot remember what speeches he made, What handsome harangues upon every occasion, How he laughed at the whim of a British invasion!

"P--x take 'em (said he) do ye think they will come?

"If they should--we have only to beat on our drum, "And run up the flag of American freedom, "And people will muster by millions to bleed 'em!

"What freeman need value such blackguards as these!

"Let us sink in our channel some Chevaux de frise --"And then let 'em come--and we'll show 'em fair play-- "But they are not madmen--I tell you--not they!"

From this very day 'till the British came in, We lived, I may say, in the Desert of Sin; Such beating, and bruising, and scratching, and tearing; Such kicking, and cuffing, and cursing and swearing!

But when they advanced with their numerous fleet, And Was.h.i.+ngton made his nocturnal retreat,[K]

(And which they permitted, I say, to their shame, Or else your New Empire had been but a name) We townsmen, like women, of Britons in dread, Mistrusted their meaning, and foolishly fled; Like the rest of the dunces I mounted my steed, And galloped away with incredible speed, To Newark I hastened,--but trouble and care Got up on the crupper and followed me there!

There I scarcely got fuel to keep myself warm, And scarcely found spirits to weather the storm; And was quickly convinced I had little to do, (The Whigs were in arms, and my readers were few) So after remaining one cold winter season, And stuffing my papers with something like treason, And meeting misfortunes and endless disasters, And forced to submit to a hundred new masters, I thought it more prudent to hold to the one-- And (after repenting of what I had done, And cursing my folly and idle pursuits) Returned to the city, and hung up my boots.

[G] Captain of the Asia man of war, who cannonaded the city.--_Freneau's note._

[H] August, 1775.--_Ib._

[I] A cant phrase among privateers men.--_Freneau's note._

[J] A noted Inn-holder in New-York.--_Ib._ "Black Sam."--_Ed. 1786._

[K] From Long-Island.--_Freneau's note._

As matters have gone, it was plainly a blunder, But then I expected the Whigs must knock under, And I always adhere to the sword that is longest, And stick to the party that's like to be strongest: That you have succeeded is merely a chance, I never once dreamt of the conduct of France!-- If alliance with her you were promised--at least You ought to have showed me your Star in the East, Nor let me go off uninformed as a beast.

When your army I saw without stockings or shoes, Or victuals--or money, to pay them their dues, (Excepting your wretched Congressional paper, That stunk in my nose like the smoke of a taper, A cart load of which for a dram might be spent all, That d.a.m.nable bubble the old Continental, That took people in at this wonderful crisis, With its mottoes and emblems, and cunning devices; Which, bad as it was, you were forced to admire, And which was, in fact, the pillar of fire, To which you directed your wandering noses, Like the Jews in the desert conducted by Moses) When I saw them attended with famine and fear, Distress in their front, and Howe in their rear; When I saw them for debt incessantly dunned, Not a s.h.i.+lling to pay them laid up in your fund; Your ploughs at a stand, and your s.h.i.+ps run ash.o.r.e-- When this was apparent (and need I say more?) I handled my cane, and I looked at my hat, And cryed--"G.o.d have mercy on armies like that!"

I took up my bottle, disdaining to stay, And said--"Here's a health to the Vicar of Bray,"

And c.o.c.ked up my beaver, and--strutted away.

Ashamed of my conduct, I sneaked into town, (Six hours and a quarter the sun had been down) It was, I remember, a cold frosty night, And the stars in the firmament glittered as bright As if (to a.s.sume a poetical stile) Old Vulcan had give them a rub with his file.

'Till this cursed night, I can honestly say, I ne'er before dreaded the dawn of the day; Not a wolf or a fox that is caught in a trap E'er was so ashamed of his nightly mishap-- I couldn't help thinking what ills might befall me, What rebels and rascals the British would call me, And how I might suffer in credit and purse, If not in my person, which still had been worse: At length I resolved (as was surely my duty) To go for advice to parson Auchmuty;[L]

The parson, who now I hope is in glory, Was then upon earth, and a terrible[224] tory, Not Cooper[M] himself, of ideas perplext, So nicely could handle and torture a text, When bloated with lies, through his trumpet he sounded The d.a.m.nable sin of opposing a crowned head; Like a penitent sinner, and dreading my fate, In the grey of the morning I knocked at his gate; (No doubt he was vexed that I roused him so soon, For his saints.h.i.+p was mostly in blankets 'till noon.) At length he approached in his vestments of black-- (Alas, my poor heart! it was then on the rack, Like a man in an ague, or one to be tried; I shook--and recanted, and blubbered, and sighed) His gown, of itself, was amazingly big, Besides, he had on his canonical wig, And frowned at a distance; but, when I came near, Looked pleasant and said--"What, Hugh, are you here!

"Your heart, I am certain, is horribly hardened, "But if you confess--your sin will be pardoned; "In spite of my preachments, and all I could say, "Like the prodigal son, you wandered away, "Now tell me, dear penitent, which is the best, "To be with the rebels, pursued and distrest, "Devoid of all comfort, all hopes of relief, "Or else to be here, and partake the king's beef?

"More people resemble the snake than the dove, "And more are converted by terror than love: "Like a sheep on the mountains, or rather a swine, "You wandered away from the ninety and nine: "Awhile at the offers of mercy you spurned, "But your error you saw, and at length have returned: "Our Master will therefore consider your case, "And restore you again to favour and grace, "Great light shall arise from utter confusion, "And rebels shall live to lament their delusion."

"Ah, rebels! (said I) they are rebels indeed-- "Chastis.e.m.e.nt, I hope, by the king is decreed: "They have hung up his subjects with bed-cords and halters, "And banished his prophets, and thrown down his altars.

"And I--even I--while I ventured to stay, "They sought for my life--to take it away!

"I therefore propose to come under your wing, "A foe to rebellion--a slave to the king."

[L] A high church Episcopalian, then rector of Trinity Church, N. Y., since deceased.--_Freneau's note._

[M] Miles Cooper, President of Kings (now Columbia College).--_Ib._

Such solemn confession,[225] in scriptural stile Worked out my salvation, at least for a while; The parson p.r.o.nounced me deserving of grace, And so they restored me to printing and place.

But days, such as these, were too happy to last: The sand of felicity settled too fast!

When I swore and protested I honoured the throne The least they could do was to let me alone; Though George I compared to an angel above, They wanted some solider proofs of my love; And so they obliged me each morning to come And turn in the ranks at the beat of the drum, While often, too often (I tell it with pain) They menaced my head with a hickory cane, While others, my betters, as much were opprest-- But shame and confusion shall cover the rest.

You, doubtless, will think I am dealing in fable When I tell you I guard an officer's stable-- With usage like this my feelings are stung; The next thing will be, I must heave out the dung!

Six hours in the day is duty too hard, And Rivington sneers whene'er I mount guard, And laughs till his sides are ready to split With his jests, and his satires, and sayings of wit: Because he's excused, on account of his post He cannot go by without making his boast, As if I was all that is servile and mean-- But Fortune, perhaps, may alter the scene, And give him his turn to stand in the street, Burnt brandy supporting his animal heat--[226]

But what for the king or the cause has he done That we must be toiling while he can look on?

Great conquests he gave them on paper--'tis true[227]

When Howe was retreating, he made him pursue; Alack! it's too plain that Britons must fall-- When loaded with laurels--they go to the wall.

From hence you may guess I do nothing but grieve, And where we are going I cannot conceive-- The wisest among us a change are expecting, It is not for nothing, these s.h.i.+ps are collecting, It is not for nothing, that Matthews, the mayor, And legions of Tories, for sailing prepare; It is not for nothing, that John Coghill Knap Is filing his papers, and plugging his tap; See Skinner himself, the fighting attorney, Is boiling potatoes, to serve a long journey; But where they are going, or meaning to travel, Would puzzle John Faustus himself to unravel, Perhaps to Pen.o.bscot, to starve in the barrens, Perhaps to St. John's, in the gulph of St. Lawrence; Perhaps to New-Scotland, to perish with cold, Perhaps to Jamaica, like slaves to be sold, Where, scorched by the summer, all nature repines, Where Phoebus, great Phoebus, too glaringly s.h.i.+nes, And fierce from the zenith diverging his ray Oppresses the isle with a torrent of day.

Since matters are thus, with proper submission Permit me to offer my humble Pet.i.tion: (Though the form is uncommon, and lawyers may sneer, With truth I can tell you, the scribe is sincere.)

That, since it is plain we are going away, You will suffer Hugh Gaine unmolested to stay, His sand is near run (life itself is a span) So leave him to manage the best that he can: Whoe'er are his masters, or monarchs, or regents, For the future he's ready to swear them allegiance; The Crown he will promise to hold in disgrace:[228]

The Bible--allow him to stick in its place, 'Till that, in due season, you wish to put down And bid him keep shop at the sign of the crown.

If the Turk with his turban should set up at last here While he gives him protection, he'll own him his master, And yield due obedience (when Britain is gone) Though ruled by the sceptre of Presbyter John.

My press, that has called you (as tyranny drove her) Rogues, rebels, and rascals, a thousand times over, Shall be at your service by day and by night, To publish whate'er you think proper to write; Those types which have raised George the third to a level With angels--shall prove him as black as the devil, To him that contrived him a shame and disgrace, Nor blest with one virtue to honour his race!

Who knows but, in time, I may rise to be great, And have the good fortune to manage a State?

Great noise among people great changes denotes, And I shall have money to purchase their votes-- The time is approaching, I venture to say, When folks worse than me will come into play, When your double faced[229] people will give themselves airs, And aim to take hold of the helm of affairs, While the honest bold soldier, who sought your renown, Like a dog in the dirt, shall be crushed and held down.

Of honours and profits allow me a share!

I frequently dream of a president's chair!

And visions full often intrude on my brain, That for me to interpret, would rather be vain.

Blest seasons advance, when Britons[230] shall find That they can be happy, and you[231] can be kind, When Rebels no longer at Traitors shall spurn, When Arnold himself will in triumph return!

But my paper informs me it's time to conclude; I fear my Address has been rather too rude-- If it has--for my boldness your pardon I pray, And further, at present, presume not to say, Except that (for form's sake) in haste I remain Your humble Pet.i.tioner--honest--HUGH GAINE.[232]

[214] First published in the _Freeman's Journal_ in several installments, the first appearing Jan. 8, 1783. Hugh Gaine began as a printer in New York in 1750, and two years later established the _New York Mercury_. His imprint for many years was "Printed by Hugh Gaine, Printer, Bookseller, Stationer, at the Bible and Crown, in Hanover Square." Upon the beginning of hostilities with England he at first sided with the patriots. "Gaine's political creed it seems was to join the strongest party. When the British troops were about to take possession of New York in 1776, he left the city and set up his press at Newark; but soon after, in the belief that appearances were against the ultimate success of the United States, be privately withdrew from Newark and returned to New York. At the conclusion of the war, he pet.i.tioned the State legislature for leave to remain in the city and, having obtained permission, his press was employed in book printing, etc., but his newspaper was discontinued when the British army left."--Thomas'

_History of Philadelphia_. I have used the text from the edition of 1809.

[215] "It is to be questioned if Gaine ever wrote a pet.i.tion."--_Paul Leicester Ford._

[216] "Drug shop."--_Ed. 1786._

[217] "Dog house."--_Ib._

[218] "Fellow."--_Ed. 1786._

[219] "To gain a mere trifle, a s.h.i.+lling or so."--_Ed. 1786._

[220] _General Gage's Soliloquy_, and _General Gage's Confession_, both printed in 1775.

[221] "Under orders from the New York Convention Isaac Sears, in the night of the twenty-fourth of August [1775] removed cannon from the battery of the city. Captain Vandeput of the _Asia_, a British man-of-war in the harbor of the city, kept up a heavy but ineffective fire on the working party, who succeeded in removing twenty-one eighteen pounders with their carriages. It was feared that a bombardment would follow and families began to retreat into the country."--_Bancroft._

[222] This line and the following not in the 1786 edition.

[223] "At first we supposed it was only a sham."--_Ed. 1786._

[224] "Moderate."--_Ed. 1786._

[225] "Pitiful whining."--_Ed. 1795._

[226]

"With his paunch of a hog, and his brains of an oyster, Whence the mischief came he with his radical moisture."--_Ed. 1786._