Bunkers-Hill._
CLARISSA. How lovely is this new-born day!--The sun rises with uncommon
radiance after the most gloomy night my wearied eyes ever knew.--The voice
of slumber was not heard--the angel of sleep was fled--and the awful
whispers of solemnity and silence prevented my eye-lids from closing.--No
wonder--the terrors and ideas of yesterday--such a scene of war--of
tumult--hurry and hubbub--of horror and destruction--the direful noise of
conflict--the dismal hissing of iron shot in volleys flying--such bellowing
of mortars--such thund'ring of cannon--such roaring of musketry--and such
clashing of swords and bayonets--such cries of the wounded--and such
streams of blood--such a noise and crush of houses, steeples, and whole
streets of desolate Charlestown falling--pillars of fire, and the convulsed
vortex of fiery flakes, rolling in flaming wreaths in the air, in dreadful
combustion, seemed as tho' the elements and whole earth were envelop'd in
one general, eternal conflagration and total ruin, and intermingled with
black smoke, ascending, on the wings of mourning, up to Heaven, seemed
piteously to implore the Almighty interposition to put a stop to such
devastation, lest the whole earth should be unpeopled in the unnatural
conflict--Too, too much for female heroism to dwell upon--But what are all
those to the terrors that filled my affrighted imagination the last
night?--Dreams--fancies--evil bodings--shadows, phantoms and ghastly
visions continually hovering around my pillow, goading and harrowing my
soul with the most terrific appearances, not imaginary, but real--Am I
awake?--Where are the British murderers?--where's my husband?--my son?--my
brother?--Something more than human tells me all is not well: If they are
among the slain, 'tis impossible.--I--Oh! [_She cries._]
_Enter a NEIGHBOUR_ [_a spectator of the battle_].
NEIGHBOUR. Madam, grieve not so much.
CLARISSA. Am I wont to grieve without a cause? Wou'd to God I did;--mock
me not--What voice is that? methinks I know it--some angel sent to
comfort me?--welcome then. [_She turns about._] Oh, my Neighbour, is it
you? My friend, I have need of comfort. Hast thou any for me?--say--will
you not speak? Where's my husband?--my son?--my brother? Hast thou seen
them since the battle? Oh! bring me not unwelcome tidings! [_Cries._]
NEIGHBOUR. [_Aside. What shall I say?_] Madam, I beheld them yesterday
from an eminence.
CLARISSA. Upon that very eminence was I. What then?--
NEIGHBOUR. I saw the brave man Warren, your son and brother.
CLARISSA. What? O ye gods!--Speak on friend--stop--what saw ye?
NEIGHBOUR. In the midst of the tempest of war--
CLARISSA. Where are they now?--That I saw too--What is all this?
NEIGHBOUR. Madam, hear me--
CLARISSA. Then say on--yet--Oh, his looks!--I fear!
NEIGHBOUR. When General Putnam bid the vanguard open their front to
the--
CLARISSA. Oh, trifle not with me--dear Neighbour!--where shall I find
them?--say--
NEIGHBOUR. [_Aside. Heavens! must I tell her!_] Madam, be patient--right
and left, that all may see who hate us, we are prepar'd for them--
CLARISSA. What then?--Can you find 'em?--
NEIGHBOUR. I saw Warren and the other two heroes firm as Roxbury stand
the shock of the enemy's fiercest attacks, and twice put to flight their
boasted phalanx.--
CLARISSA. All that I saw, and more; say--wou'd they not come to me, were
they well?--
NEIGHBOUR. Madam, hear me--
CLARISSA. Oh! he will not speak.
NEIGHBOUR. The enemy return'd to the charge, and stumbling o'er the dead
and wounded bodies of their friends, Warren received them with
indissoluble firmness, and notwithstanding their battalious aspect, in
the midst of the battle, tho' surrounded with foes on ev'ry side--
CLARISSA. Oh, my Neighbour!--
NEIGHBOUR. Madam--his nervous arm, like a giant refresh'd with wine,
hurl'd destruction where'er he came, breathing heroic ardour to
advent'rous deeds, and long time in even scale the battle hung, till at
last death turn'd pale and affrighted at the carnage--they ran--
CLARISSA. Who ran?
NEIGHBOUR. The enemy, Madam, gave way--
CLARISSA. Warren never ran--yet--oh! I wou'd he had--I fear--[_Cries._]
NEIGHBOUR. I say not so, Madam.
CLARISSA. What say ye then? he was no coward, Neighbour--
NEIGHBOUR. Brave to the last. [_Aside. I forgot myself._]
CLARISSA. What said you? O Heavens! brave to the last! those words--why
do you keep me thus?--cruel--
NEIGHBOUR. [_Aside. She will know it._] I say, Madam, by some mistaken
orders on our side, the enemy rallied and return'd to the charge with
fresh numbers, and your husband, son, and brother--Madam--
CLARISSA. Stop!--O ye powers!--What?--say no more--yet let me hear--keep
me not thus--tell me, I charge thee--
NEIGHBOUR. [_Aside. I can hold no longer, she must know it._] Forgive
me, Madam--I saw them fall--and Michael, the archangel, who vanquish'd
Satan, is not more immortal than they. [_Aside. Who can relate such woes
without a tear?_],
CLARISSA. Oh! I've heard enough--too--too much [_Cries._] yet--if thou hast
worse to tell--say on--nought worse can be--O ye gods!--cruel--cruel--
thrice cruel--cou'd ye not leave me one--[_She faints, and is caught by her
friend, and placed in a chair; he rings the bell, the family come in, and
endeavour to bring her to._]
NEIGHBOUR. With surprising fortitude she heard the melancholy relation,
until I came to the last close--she then gave me a mournful look, lifted
up her eyes, and immediately sunk motionless into my arms.
WOMAN. Poor soul!--no wonder--how I sympathize with her in her
distress--my tender bosom can scarcely bear the sight! A dreadful loss!
a most shocking scene it was, that brothers should with brothers war,
and in intestine fierce opposition meet, to seek the blood of each
other, like dogs for a bare bone, who so oft in generous friendship and
commerce join'd, in festivals of love and joy unanimous as the sons of
one kind and indulgent father, and separately would freely in a good
cause spend their blood and sacrifice their lives for him.
NEIGHBOUR. A terrible black day it was, and ever will be remembered by
New-England, when that vile Briton (unworthy the name of a Briton), Lord
Boston (curse the name!), whose horrid murders stain American soil with
blood; perish his name! a fratricide! 'twas he who fir'd Charlestown,
and spread desolation, fire, flames and smoke in ev'ry corner--he was
the wretch, that waster of the world, that licens'd robber, that
blood-stain'd insulter of a free people, who bears the name of Lord
Boston, but from henceforth shall be called Cain, that pillag'd the
ruins, and dragg'd and murder'd the infant, the aged and infirm--(But
look, she recovers.)
CLARISSA. O ye angels! ye cherubims and seraphims! waft their souls to
bliss, bathe their wounds with angelic balsam, and crown them with
immortality. A faithful, loving and beloved husband, a promising and
filial son, a tender and affectionate brother: Alas! what a loss!--Whom
have I now to comfort me?--What have I left, but the voice of
lamentation: [_She weeps._] Ill-fated bullets--these tears shall sustain
me--yes, ye dear friends! how gladly wou'd I follow you--but alas! I
must still endure tribulation and inquietudes, from which you are now
exempt; I cannot cease to weep, ye brave men, I will mourn your
fall--weep on--flow, mine eyes, and wash away their blood, till the
fountain of sorrow is dried up--but, oh! it never--never will--my
sympathetic soul shall dwell on your bosoms, and floods of tears shall
water your graves; and since all other comfort is deny'd me, deprive me
not of the only consolation left me of meditating on your virtues and
dear memories, who fell in defense of liberty and your country--ye brave
men--ye more than friends--ye martyrs to liberty!--This, this is all I
ask, till sorrow overwhelms me.--I breathe my last; and ye yourselves,
your own bright spirits, come and waft me to your peaceful abode, where
the voice of lamentation is not heard, neither shall we know any more
what it is to separate.
_Eager the patriot meets his desperate foe
With full intent to give the fatal blow;
The cause he fights for animates him high,
His wife, his children and his liberty:
For these he conquers, or more bravely dies,
And yields himself a willing sacrifice._
[_Exeunt._
ACT IV.
SCENE I. _Near Norfolk, in Virginia, on board a man-of-war, LORD
KIDNAPPER, in the state-room; a boat appears rowing towards the ship._
_SAILOR and BOATSWAIN._
SAILOR. Boatswain!
BOATSWAIN. Holla.
SAILOR. Damn my eyes, Mr. Boatswain, but here's a black flag of truce
coming on board.
BOATSWAIN. Sure enough--where are they from?
SAILOR. From hell, I suppose--for they're as black as so many devils.
BOATSWAIN. Very well--no matter--they're recruits for the Kidnapper.
SAILOR. We shall be all of a colour by and by--damn me--
BOATSWAIN. I'll go and inform his Lordship and his pair of doxies of it;
I suppose by this time they have trim'd their sails, and he's done
heaving the log.
[_Exit BOATSWAIN._
SCENE II. _Near the state-room._
BOATSWAIN. Where's his Lordship?
SERVANT. He's in the state-room.
BOATSWAIN. It's time for him to turn out; tell him I want to speak to
him.
SERVANT. I dare not do it, Boatswain; it's more than my life is worth.
BOATSWAIN. Damn your squeamish stomach, go directly, or I'll go myself.
SERVANT. For God's sake! Boatswain--
BOATSWAIN. Damn your eyes, you pimping son of a bitch, go this instant,
or I'll stick my knife in your gammons.
SERVANT. O Lord! Boatswain. [_SERVANT goes._]
BOATSWAIN [_solus_]. What the devil--keep a pimp guard here, better
station the son of a bitch at the mast head, to keep a look out there,
lest Admiral Hopkins be upon us.
_Enter KIDNAPPER._
KIDNAPPER. What's your will, Boatswain?
BOATSWAIN. I beg your Lordship's pardon [_Aside. But you can soon fetch
up Leeway, and spread the water sail again._], please your honour,
here's a boat full of fine recruits along side for you.
KIDNAPPER. Recruits, Boatswain? you mean soldiers from Augustine, I
imagine; what reg'mentals have they on?
BOATSWAIN. Mourning, please your honour, and as black as our tarpawling.
KIDNAPPER. Ha, ha, well well, take 'em on board, Boatswain, I'll be on
deck presently.
BOATSWAIN. With submission to your honour, d' ye see, [_Scratching his
head._] I think we have gallows-looking dogs enough on board
already--the scrapings of Newgate, and the refuse of Tyburn, and when
the wind blows aft, damn 'em, they stink like polecats--but d' ye see,
as your honour pleases, with submission, if it's Lord Paramount's
orders, why it must be so, I suppose--but I've done my duty, d' ye see--
KIDNAPPER. Ha, ha, the work must be done, Boatswain, no matter by whom.
BOATSWAIN. Why, aye, that's true, please your honour, any port in a
storm--if a man is to be hang'd, or have his throat cut, d' ye see--who
are so fit to do it as his own slaves? especially as they're to have
their freedoms for it; nobody can blame 'em, nor your honour neither,
for you get them for half price, or nothing at all, d' ye see me, and
that will help to lessen poor Owld England's taxes, and when you have
done with 'em here, and they get their brains knock'd out, d' ye see,
your honour can sell them in the West-Indies, and that will be something
in your honour's pocket, d' ye see--well, ev'ry man to his trade--but,
damn my impudence for all, I see your honour knows all about it--d' ye
see.
[_Exit BOATSWAIN._
SCENE III. _LORD KIDNAPPER returns to his state-room; the BOATSWAIN
comes on deck and pipes._
All hands ahoy--hand a rope, some of you Tories, forward there, for his
worship's reg'ment of black guards to come aboard.
_Enter NEGROES._
BOATSWAIN. Your humble servant, Gentlemen, I suppose you want to see
Lord Kidnapper?--Clear the gangway there of them Tyburn tulips. Please
to walk aft, brother soldiers, that's the fittest birth for you, the
Kidnapper's in the state-room, he'll hoist his sheet-anchor presently,
he'll be up in a jiffin--as soon as he has made fast the end of his
small rope athwart Jenny Bluegarter and Kate Common's stern posts.
FIRST SAILOR. Damn my eyes, but I suppose, messmate, we must bundle out
of our hammocks this cold weather, to make room for these black regulars
to stow in, tumble upon deck, and choose a soft berth among the snow?
SECOND SAILOR. Blast 'em, if they come within a cable's length of my
hammock, I'll kick 'em to hell through one of the gun ports.
BOATSWAIN. Come, come, brothers, don't be angry, I suppose we shall soon
be in a warmer latitude--the Kidnapper seems as fond of these black
regulars (as you call 'em, Jack) as he is of the brace of whores below;
but as they come in so damn'd slow, I'll put him in the humour of
sending part of the fleet this winter to the coast of Guinea, and beat
up for volunteers, there he'll get recruits enough for a hogshead or two
of New-England rum, and a few owld pipe-shanks, and save poor
Owld-England the trouble and expense of clothing them in the bargain.
FIRST SAILOR. Aye, BOATSWAIN, any voyage, so it's a warm one--if it's to
hell itself--for I'm sure the devil must be better off than we, if we
are to stay here this winter.
SECOND SAILOR. Any voyage, so it's to the southward, rather than stay
here at lazy anchor--no fire, nothing to eat or drink, but suck our
frosty fists like bears, unless we turn sheep-stealers again, and get
our brains knock'd out. Eigh, master cook, you're a gentleman
now--nothing to do--grown so proud, you won't speak to poor folks, I
suppose?
COOK. The devil may cook for 'em for me--if I had any thing to cook--a
parcel of frozen half-starv'd dogs. I should never be able to keep 'em
out of the cook room, or their noses out of the slush-tub.
BOATSWAIN. Damn your old smoky jaws, you're better off than any man
aboard, your trouble will be nothing,--for I suppose they'll be
disbursted in different messes among the Tories, and it's only putting
on the big pot, cockey. Ha, ha, ha.
COOK. What signifies, Mr. Boatswain, the big pot or the little pot, if
there's nothing to cook? no fire, coal or wood to cook with? Blast my
eyes, Mr. Boatswain, if I disgrease myself so much, I have had the
honour, damn me (tho' I say it that shou'dn't say it) to be chief cook
of a seventy-four gun ship, on board of which was Lord Abel-Marl and
Admiral Poke-Cock.
BOATSWAIN. Damn the liars--old singe-the-devil--you chief cook of a
seventy-four gun ship, eigh? you the devil, you're as proud as hell, for
all you look as old as Matheg'lum, hand a pair of silk stockings for our
cook here, d' ye see--lash a handspike athwart his arse, get a ladle
full of slush and a handful of brimstone for his hair, and step one of
you Tories there for the devil's barber to come and shave and dress him.
Ha, ha, ha.
COOK. No, Mr. Boatswain, it's not pride--but look 'e (as I said before),
I'll not disgrease my station, I'll throw up my commission, before I'll
stand cook for a parcel of scape gallows, convict Tory dogs and run-away
Negroes.
BOATSWAIN. What's that you say? Take care, old frosty face--What? do you
accuse his worship of turning kidnapper, and harbouring run-away
Negroes?--Softly, or you'll be taken up for a Whig, and get a handsome
coat of slush and hog's feathers for a christmas-box, cockey: Throw up
your commission, eigh? throw up the pot-halliards, you mean, old
piss-to-windward? Ha, ha, ha.
COOK. I tell you, Mr. Boatswain--I--
BOATSWAIN. Come, come, give us a chaw of tobacco, Cook--blast your eyes,
don't take any pride in what I say--I'm only joking, d' ye see----
COOK. Well, but Mr. Boatswain----
BOATSWAIN. Come, avast, belay the lanyards of your jaws, and let's have
no more of it, d' ye see. [_BOATSWAIN pipes._] Make fast that boat along
side there.
[_Exeunt ev'ry man to his station._
SCENE IV. _LORD KIDNAPPER comes up on the quarter-deck._
KIDNAPPER. Well, my brave blacks, are you come to list?
CUDJO. Eas, massa Lord, you preazee.
KIDNAPPER. How many are there of you?
CUDJO. Twenty-two, massa.
KIDNAPPER. Very well, did you all run away from your masters?
CUDJO. Eas, massa Lord, eb'ry one, me too.
KIDNAPPER. That's clever; they have no right to make you slaves, I wish
all the Negroes wou'd do the same, I'll make 'em free--what part did you
come from?
CUDJO. Disse brack man, disse one, disse one, disse one, disse one, come
from Hamton, disse one, disse one, disse one, come from Nawfok, me come
from Nawfok too.
KIDNAPPER. Very well, what was your master's name?
CUDJO. Me massa name Cunney Tomsee.
KIDNAPPER. Colonel Thompson--eigh?
CUDJO. Eas, massa, Cunney Tomsee.
KIDNAPPER. Well then I'll make you a major--and what's your name?
CUDJO. Me massa cawra me Cudjo.
KIDNAPPER. Cudjo?--very good--was you ever christened, Cudjo?
CUDJO. No massa, me no crissen.
KIDNAPPER. Well, then I'll christen you--you shall be called Major Cudjo
Thompson, and if you behave well, I'll soon make you a greater man than
your master, and if I find the rest of you behave well, I'll make you
all officers, and after you have serv'd Lord Paramount a while, you
shall have money in your pockets, good clothes on your backs, and be as
free as them white men there. [_Pointing forward to a parcel of
Tories._]
CUDJO. Tankee, massa, gaw bresse, massa Kidnap.
SAILOR. [_Aside._] What a damn'd big mouth that Cudjo has--as large as
our main hatch-way----
COOK. [_Aside._] Aye, he's come to a wrong place to make a good use of
it--it might stand some little chance at a Lord Mayor's feast.
KIDNAPPER. Now go forward, give 'em something to eat and drink there.
[_Aside._] Poor devils, they look half starved and naked like ourselves.
COOK. [_Aside._] I don't know where the devil they'll get it: the sight
of that fellow's mouth is enough to breed a famine on board, if there
was not one already.
SAILOR. Aye, he'd tumble plenty down his damn'd guts and swallow it,
like Jones swallow'd the whale.
KIDNAPPER. To-morrow you shall have guns like them white men--Can you
shoot some of them rebels ashore, Major Cudjo?
CUDJO. Eas, massa, me try.
KIDNAPPER. Wou'd you shoot your old master, the Colonel, if you could
see him?
CUDJO. Eas, massa, you terra me, me shoot him down dead.
KIDNAPPER. That's a brave fellow--damn 'em--down with them all--shoot
all the damn'd rebels.
SERJEANT. [_Aside._] Brave fellows indeed!
KIDNAPPER. Serjeant!
SERJEANT. I wait your Lordship's commands.
KIDNAPPER. Serjeant, to-morrow begin to teach those black recruits the
exercise, and when they have learn'd sufficiently well to load and fire,
then incorporate them among the regulars and the other Whites on board;
we shall in a few days have some work for 'em, I expect--be as
expeditious as possible. [_Aside to him._] Set a guard over them every
night, and take their arms from them, for who knows but they may cut our
throats.
SERJEANT. Very true, My Lord, I shall take particular care.
[_Exit KIDNAPPER; SERJEANT and NEGROES walk forward._
SCENE V.
SERJEANT. Damn 'em, I'd rather see half their weight in beef.
BOATSWAIN. Aye, curse their stomachs, or mutton either; then our Cook
wou'dn't be so damn'd lazy as he is, strutting about the deck like a
nobleman, receiving Paramount's pay for nothing.
SERJEANT. Walk faster, damn your black heads. I suppose, Boatswain, when
this hell-cat reg'ment's complete, they'll be reviewed in Hyde park?----
BOATSWAIN. Aye, blast my eyes, and our Chaplain with his dirty black
gown, or our Cook, shall be their general, and review 'em, for he talks
of throwing up his pot-halliards commission, in hopes of it.
SERJEANT. Ha, ha, ha.----
COOK. I'd see the devil have 'em first.----
[_Exeunt SERJEANT, &c._
SCENE VI. _In the cabin._
_LORD KIDNAPPER, CAPTAIN SQUIRES, and CHAPLAIN._
KIDNAPPER. These blacks are no small acquisition, them and the Tories we
have on board will strengthen us vastly; the thoughts of emancipation
will make 'em brave, and the encouragement given them by my
proclamation, will greatly intimidate the rebels--internal enemies are
worse than open foes.----
CHAPLAIN. Very true, My Lord; David prayed that he might be preserved
from secret enemies.
KIDNAPPER. Aye, so I've heard, but I look upon this to be a grand
manoeuvre in politics; this is making dog eat dog--thief catch
thief--the servant against his master--rebel against rebel--what think
you of that, parson?
CHAPLAIN. A house divided thus against itself cannot stand, according to
scripture--My Lord, your observation is truly scriptural.
KIDNAPPER. Scripture? poh, poh--I've nothing to do with scripture--I
mean politically, parson.
CHAPLAIN. I know it very well; sure, My Lord, I understand you
perfectly.
KIDNAPPER. Faith that's all I care for; if we can stand our ground this
winter, and burn all their towns that are accessible to our ships, and
Colonel Connolly succeeds in his plan, there's not the least doubt but
we shall have supplies from England very early in the spring, which I
have wrote for; then, in conjunction with Connolly, we shall be able to
make a descent where we please, and drive the rebels like hogs into a
pen.
CHAPLAIN. And then gather them (as the scriptures say) as a hen
gathereth her chickens.
KIDNAPPER. True, Mr. Scripture.
CAPTAIN SQUIRES. Very good, but you must take care of the hawks.
KIDNAPPER. What do you mean by the hawks, Captain?
CAPTAIN SQUIRES. I mean the shirt-men, the rifle-men, My Lord.
KIDNAPPER. Aye, damn 'em, hawks indeed; they are cursed dogs; a man is
never safe where they are, but I'll take care to be out of their reach,
let others take their chance, for I see they have no respect to
persons--I suppose they wou'd shoot at me, if I were within their reach.
CHAPLAIN. Undoubtedly, they would be more fond of you than of a wild
turkey; a parcel of ignorant, unmannerly rascals, they pay no more
respect to a Lord than they wou'd to a devil.
KIDNAPPER. The scoundrels are grown so damn'd impudent too, that one can
scarcely get a roasting pig now-a-days, but I'll be even with some of
'em by and by.
CHAPLAIN. I hope we shall get something good for our Christmas
dinner--so much abstinence and involuntary mortification, cannot be good
for the soul--a war in the body corporal is of more dangerous
consequence than a civil war to the state, or heresy and schism to the
church.
KIDNAPPER. Very true, parson--very true--now I like your doctrine--a
full belly is better than an empty sermon; preach that doctrine;--stick
to that text, and you'll not fail of making converts.
CHAPLAIN. The wisest of men said, there is nothing better, than that a
man should enjoy that which he hath, namely, eat, drink, and be merry,
if he can.
KIDNAPPER. You're very right--Solomon was no fool, they say--[_He
sings._]
_Give me a charming lass, Twangdillo cries,
I know no pleasure, but love's sweet joys._
CHAPLAIN. [_Sings._]
_Give me the bottle, says the red face sot,
For a whore I'd not give six-pence, not a groat._
Yet two is better than one, my Lord, for the scriptures further say, if
one be alone, how can there be heat? You seem to be converted to that
belief, for you have a brace of them, as the Boatswain says.
KIDNAPPER. Ha, ha. It's a pity but you were a bishop, you have the
scriptures so pat--now I'll go and take a short nap, meanwhile; Captain,
if any thing new happens, pray order my servant to wake me.
CAPTAIN SQUIRES. I will, my Lord.
[_Exit KIDNAPPER._
CHAPLAIN. And you and I'll crack a bottle, Captain; (bring a bottle,
boy!) 'tis bad enough to perish by famine, but ten thousand times worse
to be chok'd for want of moisture. His Lordship and two more make three;
and you and I and the bottle make three more, and a three-fold cord is
not easily broken; so we're even with him.
CAPTAIN SQUIRES. With all my heart.--Boy, bear a hand!
TOM. Coming, sir.
CHAPLAIN. Tom, Tom!--make haste, you scoundrel!--fetch two bottles. I
think we can manage it.
_Enter TOM with the bottles._
CHAPLAIN. That's right, Tom.--Now bring the glasses, and shut the door
after you.
[_Exit TOM._
SCENE VII. _In Boston. A council of war after the battle of
Bunker's-Hill._
LORD BOSTON, ADMIRAL TOMBSTONE, ELBOW ROOM, MR. CAPER, GENERAL CLINTON,
EARL PERCY.
LORD BOSTON. I fully expected, with the help of the last reinforcement
you brought me over, and the advice and assistance of three accomplish'd
and experienc'd Generals, I should have been able to have subdued the
rebels, and gain'd immortal laurels to myself--have return'd to Old
England like a Roman Consul, with a score or two of the rebel Generals,
Colonels and Majors, to have grac'd my triumph.
ELBOW ROOM. You have been vastly disappointed, sir--you must not look
for laurels (unless wild ones) nor expect triumphs (unless sham ones)
from your own victories or conquests in America.
LORD BOSTON. And yet, not more disappointed than you, sir--witness your
thrasonical speeches on your first landing, provided you had but elbow
room--and Mr. Caper too, to bring over Monsieur Rigadoon, the
dancing-master, and Signor Rosin, the fiddler forsooth; he thought, no
doubt, to have country danc'd the rebels out of their liberty with some
of his new cuts--with his soft music to have fascinated their wives and
daughters, and with some of 'em, no doubt, to have taken the tour of
America, with his reg'ment of fine, sleek, prancing horses, that have
been feeding this six months on codfish tails; he thought to have grown
fat with feasting, dancing, and drinking tea with the Ladies, instead of
being the skeleton he now appears to be--not to mention any thing of his
letter, wherein he laments Tom's absence; for[9] "had Tom been with him
(he says) he wou'd have been out of danger, and quite secure from the
enemy's shot."
PERCY. I think, Gentlemen, we're even with you now; you have had your
mirth and frolic with us, for dancing "Yankee Doodle," as you called it,
from Lexington.--I find you have had a severer dance, a brave sweat at
Bunker's Hill, and have been obliged to pay the fiddler in the bargain.
CLINTON. However, Gentlemen, I approve (at proper seasons) of a little
joking, yet I can by no means think (as we have had such bad success
with our crackers) that this is a proper time to throw your squibs.
LORD BOSTON. I grant you, sir, this is a very improper time for joking;
for my part, I was only speaking as to my own thoughts, when Mr. Elbow
Room made remarks, which he might as well have spared.
ELBOW ROOM. I took you, sir, as meaning a reflection upon us for our
late great loss, and particularly to myself, for expressing some
surprise on our first landing, that you should suffer a parcel of
ignorant peasants to drive you before 'em like sheep from Lexington; and
I must own I was a little chagrin'd at your seeming so unconcern'd at
such an affair as this (which had nearly prov'd our ruin), by your
innuendoes and ironical talk of accomplish'd Generals, Roman Consuls and
triumphs.
LORD BOSTON. My mentioning accomplish'd Generals, surely, sir, was
rather a compliment to you.
ELBOW ROOM. When irony pass current for compliments, and we take it so,
I shall have no objection to it.
MR. CAPER. The affair of Lexington, My Lord Boston, at which you were so
much affrighted (if I am rightly inform'd), was because you then stood
on your own bottom, this of Bunker's Hill you seem secretly to rejoice
at, only because you have three accomplish'd and experienc'd Generals to
share the disgrace with you, besides the brave Admiral Tombstone--you
talk of dancing and fiddling, and yet you do neither, as I see.
LORD BOSTON. And pray, sir, what did you do with the commission, the
post, the Duke of Grafton gave you, in lieu of your losses at Preston
election, and the expenses of your trial at the king's bench for a riot,
which had emptied your pockets?--Why you sold it--you sold it, sir--to
raise cash to gamble with.----
ADMIRAL TOMBSTONE. Damn it, don't let us kick up a dust among ourselves,
to be laugh'd at fore and aft--this is a hell of a council of
war--though I believe it will turn out one before we've done--a scolding
and quarrelling like a parcel of damn'd butter whores--I never heard two
whores yet scold and quarrel, but they got to fighting at last.
CLINTON. Pray, Gentlemen, drop this discourse, consider the honour of
England is at stake, and our own safety depends upon this day's
consultation.
LORD BOSTON. 'Tis not for argument's sake--but the dignity of my station
requires others should give up first.
ELBOW ROOM. Sir, I have done, lest you should also accuse me of
obstructing the proceedings of the council of war.
MR. CAPER. For the same reason I drop it now.
LORD BOSTON. Well, Gentlemen, what are we met here for?
ADMIRAL TOMBSTONE. Who the devil shou'd know, if you don't?--damn it,
didn't you send for us?
LORD BOSTON. Our late great loss of men has tore up the foundation of
our plan, and render'd all further attempts impracticable--'t will be a
long time ere we can expect any more reinforcements--and if they should
arrive, I'm doubtful of their success.
CLINTON. The provincials are vastly strong, and seem no novices in the
art of war; 'tis true we gain'd the hill at last, but of what advantage
is it to us?--none--the loss of 1400 as brave men as Britain can boast
of, is a melancholy consideration, and must make our most sanguinary
friends in England abate of their vigour.
ELBOW ROOM. I never saw or read of any battle equal to it--never was
more martial courage display'd, and the provincials, to do the dogs
justice, fought like heroes, fought indeed more like devils than men;
such carnage and destruction not exceeded by Blenheim, Minden, Fontenoy,
Ramillies, Dettingen, the battle of the Boyne, and the late affair of
the Spaniards and Algerines--a mere cock-fight to it--no laurels there.
MR. CAPER. No, nor triumphs neither--I regret in particular the number
of brave officers that fell that day, many of whom were of the first
families in England.
ADMIRAL TOMBSTONE. Aye, a damn'd affair indeed--many powder'd
beaus--petit maitres--fops--fribbles--skip jacks--macaronies--jack
puddings--noblemen's bastards and whores' sons fell that day--and my
poor marines stood no more chance with 'em than a cat in hell without
claws.
LORD BOSTON. It can't be help'd, Admiral; what is to be done next?
ADMIRAL TOMBSTONE. Done?--why, what the devil have you done? nothing
yet, but eat Paramount's beef, and steal a few Yankee sheep--and that,
it seems, is now become a damn'd lousy, beggarly trade too, for you
hav'n't left yourselves a mouthful to eat.
[_Aside._]
"_Bold at the council board,
But cautious in the field, he shunn'd the sword._"
LORD BOSTON. But what can we do, Admiral?
ADMIRAL TOMBSTONE. Do?--why, suck your paws--that's all you're like to
get. [_Aside._] But avast, I must bowse taught there, or we shall get to
loggerheads soon, we're such damn'd fighting fellows.
LORD BOSTON. We must act on the defensive this winter, till
reinforcements arrive.
ADMIRAL TOMBSTONE. Defensive? aye, aye--if we can defend our bellies
from hunger, and prevent a mutiny and civil war among the small guts
there this winter, we shall make a glorious campaign of it, indeed--it
will read well in the American Chronicles.
LORD BOSTON. I expect to be recalled this winter, when I shall lay the
case before Lord Paramount, and let him know your deplorable situation.
ADMIRAL TOMBSTONE. Aye, do--and lay it behind him too; you've got the
weather-gage of us this tack, messmate; but I wish you a good voyage for
all--and don't forget to tell him, the poor worms are starving too,
having nothing to eat, but half starv'd dead soldiers and the ships'
bottoms. [_Aside._] A cunning old fox, he's gnaw'd his way handsomely
out of the Boston cage--but he'll never be a _wolf_, for all that.
MR. CAPER. I shall desire to be recalled too--I've not been us'd to such
fare--and not the least diversion or entertainment of any sort going
forward here--I neither can nor will put up with it.
ADMIRAL TOMBSTONE. I think we're all a parcel of damn'd boobies for
coming three thousand miles upon a wild-goose chase--to perish with
cold--starve with hunger--get our brains knock'd out, or be hang'd for
sheep-stealing and robbing hen-roosts.
LORD BOSTON. I think, Admiral, you're always grumbling--never satisfied.
ADMIRAL TOMBSTONE. Satisfied? I see no appearance of it--we have been
here these twelve hours, scolding upon empty stomachs--you may call it a
council of war (and so it is indeed, a war with the guts) or what you
will--but I call it a council of famine.
LORD BOSTON. As it's so late, Gentlemen, we'll adjourn the council of
war till to-morrow at nine o'clock--I hope you'll all attend, and come
to a conclusion.
ADMIRAL TOMBSTONE. And I hope you'll then conclude to favour us with one
of them fine turkeys you're keeping for your sea store [_Aside._] or
that fine, fat, black pig you or some of your guard stole out of the
poor Negroe's pen. As it's near Christmas, and you're going to make your
exit--you know the old custom among the sailors--pave your way
first--let us have one good dinner before we part, and leave us half a
dozen pipes of Mr. Hancock's wine to drink your health, and a good
voyage, and don't let us part with dry lips.
_Such foolish councils, with no wisdom fraught,
Must end in wordy words, and come to nought;
Just like St. James's, where they bluster, scold,
They nothing know--yet they despise being told._
[_Exeunt._
FOOTNOTES:
[9] See Burgoyne's letter.
ACT V.
SCENE I. _At Montreal._
_GENERAL PRESCOT and OFFICER._
GENERAL PRESCOT.
So it seems indeed, one misfortune seldom comes alone.--The rebels,
after the taking of Ticonderoga and Chamblee, as I just now learn by a
Savage, marched immediately to besiege St. John's, and are now before
that place, closely investing it, and no doubt intend paying us a visit
soon.
OFFICER. Say you so? then 'tis time to look about us.
GEN. PRESCOT. They'll find us prepar'd, I'll warrant 'em, to give 'em
such a reception as they little dream of--a parcel of Yankee dogs.
OFFICER. Their success, no doubt, has elated them, and given 'em hopes
of conquering all Canada soon, if that's their intent.
GEN. PRESCOT. No doubt it is--but I'll check their career a little.----
_Enter SCOUTING OFFICER, with COLONEL ALLEN, and other prisoners._
SCOUTING OFFICER. Sir, I make bold to present you with a few
prisoners--they are a scouting detachment from the army besieging St.
John's.
GEN. PRESCOT. Prisoners? Rebels, I suppose, and scarcely worth hanging.
COL. ALLEN. Sir, you suppose wrong--you mean scarcely worth your while
to attempt.
GEN. PRESCOT. Pray, who are you, sir?
COL. ALLEN. A man, sir, and who had the honour, till now, to command
those brave men, whom you call rebels.
GEN. PRESCOT. What is your name? If I may be so bold?
COL. ALLEN. Allen.
GEN. PRESCOT. Allen?
COL. ALLEN. Yes, Allen.
GEN. PRESCOT. Are you that Allen, that Colonel Allen (as they call him)
that dar'd to take Ticonderoga?
COL. ALLEN. The same--the very man.
GEN. PRESCOT. Then rebels you are, and as such I shall treat you, for
daring to oppose Lord Paramount's troops, and the laws of the land.
COL. ALLEN. Prisoners we are, 'tis true--but we despise the name of a
rebel--With more propriety that name is applicable to your master--'tis
he who attempts to destroy the laws of the land, not us--we mean to
support them, and defend our property against Paramount's and
parliamentary tyranny.
GEN. PRESCOT. To answer you were a poorness of spirit I despise; when
rebels dare accuse, power that replies, forgets to punish; I am not to
argue that point with you: And let me tell you, sir, whoever you are, it
now ill becomes you thus to talk--You're my prisoner--your life is in my
hands, and you shall suffer immediately--Guards! take them away.
COL. ALLEN. Cruel insult!--pardon these brave men!--what they have done
has been by my orders--I am the only guilty person (if guilt there be),
let me alone suffer for them all. [_Opening his breast._] Here! take
your revenge--Why do you hesitate?--Will you not strike a breast that
ne'er will flinch from your pointed bayonet?
GEN. PRESCOT. Provoke me not--Remember you're my prisoners.
COL. ALLEN. Our souls are free!--Strike, cowards, strike!--I scorn to
beg my life.
GEN. PRESCOT. Guards! away with them--I'll reserve you for a more
ignominious death--your fate is fix'd--away with them.
COL. ALLEN. [_Going off._] Be glutted, ye thirsters after human
blood--Come, see me suffer--mark my eye, and scorn me, if my expiring
soul confesses fear--Come, see and be taught virtue, and to die as a
patriot for the wrongs of my country.
[_Exeunt PRISONERS and GUARDS._
SCENE II. _A Dungeon._
COL. ALLEN. What! ye infernal monsters! murder us in the dark?--What
place is this?--Who reigns king of these gloomy mansions?--You might
favour us at least with one spark of light--Ye cannot see to do your
business here.
OFFICER. 'Tis our orders.
COL. ALLEN. Ye dear, ye brave, wretched friends!--now would I die for ye
all--ye share a death I wou'd gladly excuse you from--'Tis not death I
fear--this is only bodily death--but to die noteless in the silent dark,
is to die scorn'd, and shame our suff'ring country--we fall undignify'd
by villains' hands--a sacrifice to Britain's outcast blood-hounds--This,
this shakes the soul!--Come then, ye murderers, since it must be so--do
your business speedily--Farewell, my friends! to die with you is now my
noblest claim since to die for you was a choice deny'd--What are ye
about?--Stand off, ye wretches!
OFFICER. I am order'd to lay you in irons. [_They seize him._] You must
submit.
COL. ALLEN. What, do you mean to torture us to death with chains, racks
and gibbets? rather despatch us immediately--Ye executioners, ye
inquisitors, does this cruelty proceed from the lenity I shewed to the
prisoners I took?--Did it offend you that I treated them with
friendship, generosity, honour and humanity?--If it did, our suff'rings
will redound more to our honour, and our fall be the more glorious--But
remember, this fall will prove your own one day--Wretches! I fear you
not, do your worst; and while I here lay suff'ring and chain'd on my
back to the damp floor, I'll yet pray for your conversion.
OFFICER. Excuse us, we have only obey'd our order.
COL. ALLEN. Then I forgive you; but pray execute them.
_Oh! my lost friends! 'tis liberty, not breath,
Gives the brave life. Shun slav'ry more than death.
He who spurns fear, and dares disdain to be,
Mocks chains and wrongs--and is forever free;
While the base coward, never safe, tho' low,
Creeps but to suff'rings, and lives on for woe!_
[_Exeunt GUARDS._
SCENE III. _In the Camp at Cambridge._
_GENERAL WASHINGTON, GENERAL LEE, and GENERAL PUTNAM._
GENERAL WASHINGTON.
Our accounts from the Northward, so far, are very favourable;
Ticonderoga, Chamblee, St. John's and Montreal our troops are already in
possession of--and Colonel Arnold, having penetrated Canada, after
suff'ring much thro' cold, fatigue and want of provisions, is now before
Quebec, and General Montgomery, I understand, is in full march to join
him; see these letters.
[_They read._
GEN. LEE. The brave, the intrepid Arnold, with his handful of fearless
troops, have dar'd beyond the strength of mortals--Their courage smil'd
at doubts, and resolutely march'd on, clamb'ring (to all but themselves)
insurmountable precipices, whose tops, covered with ice and snow, lay
hid in the clouds, and dragging baggage, provisions, ammunition and
artillery along with them, by main strength, in the dead of winter, over
such stupendous and amazing heights, seems almost unparallelled in
history!--'Tis true, Hannibal's march over the Alps comes the nearest to
it--it was a surprising undertaking, but when compar'd to this, appears
but as a party of pleasure, an agreeable walk, a sabbath day's journey.
GEN. PUTNAM. Posterity will stand amazed, and be astonish'd at the
heroes of this new world, that the spirit of patriotism should blaze to
such a height, and eclipse all others, should outbrave fatigue, danger,
pain, peril, famine and even death itself, to serve their country; that
they should march, at this inclement season, thro' long and dreary
deserts, thro' the remotest wilds, covered with swamps and standing
lakes, beset with trees, bushes and briars, impervious to the cheering
rays of the sun, where are no traces or vestiges of human footsteps,
wild, untrodden paths, that strike terror into the fiercest of the brute
creation.
_No bird of song to cheer the gloomy desert!
No animals of gentle love's enliven!_
GEN. LEE. Let Britons do the like--no--they dare not attempt it--let 'em
call forth the Hanoverian, the Hessian, the hardy Ruffian, or, if they
will, the wild Cossacks and Kalmucks of Tartary, and they would tremble
at the thought! And who but Americans dare undertake it? The wond'ring
moon and stars stood aloof, and turn'd pale at the sight!
GEN. WASHINGTON. I rejoice to hear the Canadians received them kindly,
after their fatigue furnish'd them with the necessaries of life, and
otherways treated them very humanely--And the savages, whose hair stood
on end, and look'd and listen'd with horror and astonishment at the
relation of the fatigues and perils they underwent, commiserated them,
and afforded all the succour in their power.
GEN. LEE. The friendship of the Canadians and Savages, or even their
neutrality alone, are favourable circumstances that cannot fail to
hearten our men; and the junction of General Montgomery will inspire 'em
with fresh ardour.
GEN. PUTNAM. Heavens prosper 'em!
_Enter OFFICER and EXPRESS._
OFFICER. Sir, here's an Express.
EXPRESS. I have letters to your Excellency.
GEN. WASHINGTON. From whence?
EXPRESS. From Canada, sir.
GEN. WASHINGTON. From the army?
EXPRESS. From the headquarters, sir.
GEN. WASHINGTON. I hope matters go well there.--Had General Montgomery
join'd Colonel Arnold when you left it?
EXPRESS. He had, sir--these letters are from both those gentlemen.
[_Gives him the letters._
GEN. WASHINGTON. Very well. You may now withdraw and refresh yourself,
unless you've further to say--I'll dispatch you shortly.
EXPRESS. Nothing further, sir.
[_Exeunt OFFICER and EXPRESS._
GEN. WASHINGTON. [_Opens and reads the letter to GENERALS LEE and
PUTNAM._] I am well pleased with their contents--all but the behaviour
of the haughty Carleton--to fire upon a flag of truce, hitherto
unprecedented, even amongst Savages or Algerines--his cruelty to the
prisoners is cowardly, and personal ill treatment of General Montgomery
is unbecoming a General--a soldier--and beneath a Gentleman--and leaves
an indelible mark of brutality--I hope General Montgomery, however, will
not follow his example.
GEN. LEE. I hope so too, sir--if it can be avoided; it's a disgrace to
the soldier, and a scandal to the Gentleman--so long as I've been a
soldier, my experience has not furnish'd me with a like instance.
GEN. PUTNAM. I see no reason why he shou'dn't be paid in his own
coin.--If a man bruises my heel, I'll break his head--I cannot see the
reason or propriety of bearing with their insults--does he not know it's
in our power to retaliate fourfold?
GEN. LEE. Let's be good natur'd, General--let us see a little more of it
first----
GEN. PUTNAM. I think we have seen enough of it already for this
twelve-months past. Methinks the behaviour of Lord Boston, the ill
treatment of poor Allen, to be thrown into a loathsome dungeon like a
murderer, be loaded with irons, and transported like a convict, would
sufficiently rouse us to a just retaliation--that imperious red coat,
Carleton, should be taught good manners--I hope to see him ere long in
our College at Cambridge----
GEN. LEE. I doubt; he'll be too cunning, and play truant--he has no
notion of learning American manners; ev'ry dog must have his day (as the
saying is); it may be our time by and by--the event of war is
uncertain----
GEN. PUTNAM. Very true, sir; but don't let us be laugh'd at forever.
_Enter an OFFICER in haste._
OFFICER. Sir, a messenger this moment from Quebec waits to be admitted.
GEN. WASHINGTON. Let him enter.
[_Exit OFFICER._
_Enter MESSENGER._
GEN. WASHINGTON. What news bring you?
MESSENGER. I am sorry, sir, to be the bearer of an unpleasing tale----
GEN. WASHINGTON. Bad news have you?--have you letters?
MESSENGER. None, sir--I came off at a moment's warning--my message is
verbal.
GEN. WASHINGTON. Then relate what you know.
MESSENGER. After the arrival and junction of General Montgomery's troops
with Colonel Arnold's, Carleton was summoned to surrender; he disdaining
any answer, fir'd on the flag of truce----
GEN. WASHINGTON. That we have heard--go on.
MESSENGER. The General finding no breach could be effected in any
reasonable time, their walls being vastly strong, and his cannon rather
light, determined to attempt it by storm--The enemy were apprized of
it--however, he passed the first barrier, and was attempting the second,
where he was unfortunately killed, with several other brave officers----
GEN. WASHINGTON. Is General Montgomery killed?
MESSENGER. He is certainly, sir.
GEN. WASHINGTON. I am sorry for it--a brave man--I could wish him a
better fate!----
GEN. LEE. I lament the loss of him--a resolute soldier----
GEN. PUTNAM. Pity such bravery should prove unsuccessful, such merit
unrewarded;--but the irreversible decree of Providence!--who can
gainsay?--we may lament the loss of a friend, but 'tis irreligious to
murmur at pre-ordination. What happ'ned afterwards?
MESSENGER. The officer next in command, finding their attacks at that
time unsuccessful, retired in good order.
GEN. WASHINGTON. What became of Colonel Arnold?
MESSENGER. Colonel Arnold, at the head of about three hundred and fifty
brave troops, and Captain Lamb's company of artillery, having in the
mean time passed through St. Rocques, attacked a battery, and carried
it, tho' well defended, with the loss of some men--
GEN. PUTNAM. I hope they proved more successful.
GEN. LEE. Aye, let us hear.
MESSENGER. The Colonel about this time received a wound in his leg, and
was obliged to crawl as well as he cou'd to the hospital, thro' the fire
of the enemy, and within fifty yards of the walls, but, thro'
Providence, escap'd any further damage.----
GEN. PUTNAM. Aye, providential indeed!
GEN. WASHINGTON. Is he dangerously wounded?
MESSENGER. I am told not, sir.
GEN. WASHINGTON. I am glad of it.--What follow'd?
MESSENGER. His brave troops pushed on to the second barrier, and took
possession of it.
GEN. WASHINGTON. Very good--proceed.
MESSENGER. A party of the enemy then sallying out from the palace-gate,
attacked them in the rear, whom they fought with incredible bravery for
three hours, and deeds of eternal fame were done; but being surrounded
on all sides, and overpowered by numbers, were at last obliged to submit
themselves as prisoners of war.
GEN. PUTNAM. Heav'ns! could any thing prove more unlucky? such brave
fellows deserve better treatment than they'll get (I'm afraid) from the
inhuman Carleton.
GEN. LEE. Such is the fortune of war, and the vicissitudes attending a
military life; to-day conquerors, to-morrow prisoners.
GEN. WASHINGTON. He dares not treat them ill--only as prisoners. Did you
learn how those brave fellows were treated?
MESSENGER. It was currently reported in the camp they were treated very
humanely.
GEN. WASHINGTON. A change for the better.
GEN. PUTNAM. Produc'd by fear, no doubt from General Montgomery's
letter--but no matter from what cause.
GEN. LEE. How far did the remainder of the army retire?
MESSENGER. About two miles from the city, where they are posted very
advantageously, continuing the blockade, and waiting for reinforcements.
GEN. LEE. Did the enemy shew any peculiar marks of distinction to the
corpse of General Montgomery?
MESSENGER. He was interred in Quebec, with ev'ry possible mark of
distinction.
GEN. WASHINGTON. What day did the affair happen on?
MESSENGER. On the last day of the year.
GEN. WASHINGTON. A remarkable day! When was the General interred?
MESSENGER. The second of January.
GEN. LEE. What number of men in the whole attack was killed? did you
learn?
MESSENGER. About sixty killed and wounded.
GEN. WASHINGTON. Have you any thing further to communicate?
MESSENGER. Nothing, sir, but to inform you they are all in good spirits,
and desire reinforcements, and heavy artillery may be sent them as soon
as possible.
GEN. WASHINGTON. That be our business--with all despatch. You may for
the present withdraw. Serjeant!
_Enter SERJEANT._
SERJEANT. I wait your order, sir.
GEN. WASHINGTON. See that the Messenger and his horse want for nothing.
SERJEANT. I shall, sir.
[_Exeunt SERJEANT and MESSENGER._
SCENE IV.
GEN. WASHINGTON. I'll despatch an Express to the Congress. This repulse,
if I mistake not (or victory, as Carleton may call it), will stand 'em
but in little stead--'t will be only a temporary reprieve--we'll
reinforce our friends, let the consequence be what it may--Quebec must
fall, and the lofty strong walls and brazen gates (the shield of
cowards) must tumble by an artificial earthquake; should they continue
in their obstinacy, we'll arm our friends with missive thunders in their
hands, and stream death on them swifter than the winds.
GEN. LEE. I lament the loss of the valiant Montgomery and his brave
officers and soldiers (at this time more especially) 'tis the fortune of
war, 'tis unavoidable; yet, I doubt not, out of their ashes will arise
new heroes.
GEN. PUTNAM. Who can die a more glorious, a more honourable death than
in their country's cause?--let it redouble our ardour, and kindle a
noble emulation in our breasts--let each American be determined to
conquer or die in a righteous cause.
GEN. WASHINGTON. I have drawn my sword, and never will I sheathe it,
till America is free, or I'm no more.
GEN. LEE. Peace is despaired of, and who can think of submission? The
last petition from the Congress, like the former, has been disregarded;
they prayed but for liberty, peace and safety, and their omnipotent
authoritative supreme-ships will grant them neither: War, then, war open
and understood, must be resolved on; this, this will humble their pride,
will bring their tyrant noses to the ground, teach 'em humility, and
force them to hearken to reason when 'tis too late. My noble General, I
join you. [_Drawing his sword._] I'll away with the scabbard, and
sheathe my sword in the bosom of tyranny.
GEN. PUTNAM. Have you not read the speech, where frowning revenge and
sounds of awful dread for disgrace at Lexington and loss at Bunker's
Hill echo forth? Not smiling peace, or pity, tame his sullen soul; but,
Pharaoh-like, on the wings of tyranny he rides and forfeits happiness to
feast revenge, till the waters of the red sea of blood deluge the
tyrant, with his mixed host of vile cut-throats, murderers, and bloody
butchers.
GEN. WASHINGTON. Yet, finding they cannot conquer us, gladly would they
make it up by a voluntary free-will offering of a million of money in
bribes, rather than be obliged to relish the thoughts of sacrificing
their cursed pride and false honour, they sending over to amuse us (to
put us off our guard) a score or two of commissioners with sham
negotiations in great state, to endeavour to effect, by bribery,
deception and chicanery, what they cannot accomplish by force. Perish
such wretches!--detested be their schemes!--Perish such monsters!--a
reproach to human understanding--their vaunted boasts and threats will
vanish like smoke, and be no more than like snow falling on the moist
ground, melt in silence, and waste away--Blasted, forever blasted be the
hand of the villainous traitor that receives their gold upon such
terms--may he become leprous, like Naaman, the Syrian, yea, rather like
Gehazi, the servant of Elisha, that it may stick to him for ever.
GEN. PUTNAM. I join you both, and swear by all the heroes of
New-England, that this arm, tho' fourscore and four [_Drawing his
sword._], still nervous and strong, shall wield this sword to the last
in the support of liberty and my country, revenge the insult offer'd to
the immortal Montgomery, and brutal treatment of the brave Allen.
_O Liberty! thou sunshine of the heart!
Thou smile of nature, and thou soul of art!
Without thy aid no human hope cou'd grow,
And all we cou'd enjoy were turn'd to woe._
[_Exeunt._
THE EPILOGUE.
SPOKEN BY MR. FREEMAN.
Since tyrants reign, and lust and lux'ry rule;
Since kings turn Neroes--statesmen play the fool;
Since parli'ment in cursed league combine,
To sport with rights that's sacred and divine;
Destroying towns with direful conflagration,
And murder subjects without provocation!
These are but part of evils we could name,
Not to their glory, but eternal shame.
Petitions--waste paper--great Pharaoh cries,
Nor care a rush for your remonstrances.
Each Jacobite, and ev'ry pimping Tory,
Waits for your wealth, to raise his future glory:
Or pensions sure, must ev'ry rascal have,
Who strove his might, to make FREEMAN a slave.
Since this the case, to whom for succour cry?
To God, our swords, and sons of liberty!
Cast off the idol god!--kings are but vain!
Let justice rule, and independence reign.
Are ye not men? Pray who made men, but God?
Yet men make kings--to tremble at their nod!
What nonsense this--let's wrong with right oppose,
Since nought will do, but sound, impartial blows.
Let's act in earnest, not with vain pretence, }
Adopt the language of sound COMMON SENSE, }
And with one voice proclaim INDEPENDENCE. }
Convince your foes you will defend your right,
That blows and knocks is all they will get by 't.
Let tyrants see that you are well prepar'd,
By proclamations, sword, nor speeches scar'd;
That liberty freeborn breathe in each soul!
One god-like union animate the whole!
_End of the First Campaign._
TRANSCRIBERS' NOTES
General: Inconsistent hyphenation of eye(-)lids preserved as in original
General: Inconsistent punctuation of Bunker(')s-Hill preserved as in
original
General: Variable punctuation after Roman numerals (e.g. iv.) preserved as
in original
Page 290: , added after JUDAS
Page 293: "confident" as in original
Page 305: "They has often been told" as in original
Page 314: . added after "time to find him
End of Project Gutenberg's The Fall of British Tyranny, by John Leacock