XI. PEACE
The news of Cornwallis's surrender was received with consternation in Great Britain. The King declared that he would abdicate rather than acknowledge the independence of the United States, Lord North resigned, Lord Germaine was dismissed, and Sir Henry Clinton was superseded in command of the army by Sir Guy Carleton.
ON SIR HENRY CLINTON'S RECALL
[May, 1782]
The dog that is beat has a right to complain-- Sir Harry returns, a disconsolate swain, To the face of his master, the devil's 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 flatter'd, 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 which this chief has achieved? 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 of his feather, In the Cerberus frigate came over together: But of all the bold chiefs that remeasure the trip, Not two have been known to return in one ship.
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, quoth honest Will Tryon: Are rags to discourage the sons of the lion?)
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 honor our nation:
"I'll show this damn'd 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 'em 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 hang'd had you tried it in Britain.
At the taking of Charlestown you cut a great figure, The terms you propounded were terms full of rigor, Yet could not foresee poor Charley's disgrace, Nor how soon your own colors would go to the case.
When the town had surrender'd, 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 mark'd 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 no mask need be draw'd 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 Yankees will die by the act of starvation."
So off you sent André (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 damn'd 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 symptom as yet doth appear; As we plainly perceive from his sending Sir Guy, Commission'd to steal, and commission'd to lie.
Freeman's Journal, May 22, 1782.
George III also declared that he would retain the cities of New York and Charleston at all hazards, but it was soon out of his power to retain Charleston, at least. General Leslie, in command there, found himself in dire straits for supplies, and on December 14, 1782, evacuated the city and sailed away for Halifax.
ON THE DEPARTURE OF THE BRITISH FROM CHARLESTON
[December 14, 1782]
His triumphs of a moment done; His race of desolation run, The Briton, yielding to his fears, To other shores with sorrow steers:
To other shores--and coarser climes He goes, reflecting on his crimes, His broken oaths, a murder'd Hayne, And blood of thousands, spilt in vain.
To Cooper's stream, advancing slow, Ashley no longer tells his woe, No longer mourns his limpid flood Discolor'd deep with human blood.
Lo! where those social streams combine Again the friends of Freedom join; And, while they stray where once they bled, Rejoice to find their tyrants fled,
Since memory paints that dismal day When British squadrons held the sway, And circling close on every side, By sea and land retreat deny'd--
Shall she recall that mournful scene, And not the virtues of a GREENE, Who great in war--in danger try'd, Has won the day, and crush'd their pride.
Through barren wastes and ravag'd lands He led his bold undaunted bands, Through sickly climes his standard bore Where never army marched before:
By fortitude, with patience join'd (The virtues of a noble mind), He spread, where'er our wars are known, His country's honor and his own.
Like Hercules, his generous plan Was to redress the wrongs of men; Like him, accustom'd to subdue, He freed a world from monsters too.
Through every want and every ill We saw him persevering still, Through Autumn's damps and Summer's heat, Till his great purpose was complete.
Like the bold eagle, from the skies That stoops, to seize his trembling prize, He darted on the slaves of kings At Camden heights and Eutaw Springs.
Ah! had our friends that led the fray Surviv'd the ruins of that day, We should not damp our joy with pain, Nor, sympathizing, now complain.
Strange! that of those who nobly dare Death always claims so large a share, That those of virtue most refin'd Are soonest to the grave consign'd!--
But fame is theirs--and future days On pillar'd brass shall tell their praise; Shall tell--when cold neglect is dead-- "These for their country fought and bled."
PHILIP FRENEAU.
However the King might froth and bluster, it was evident that he was beaten. He was forced to bow to the inevitable, and on December 5, 1782, in his speech at the opening of Parliament, he recommended that peace be made with the colonies in America, and that they be declared free and independent.
ON THE BRITISH KING'S SPEECH
RECOMMENDING PEACE WITH THE AMERICAN STATES
[December 5, 1782]
Grown sick of war, and war's alarms, Good George has changed his note at last-- Conquest and death have lost their charms; He and his nation stand aghast, To think what fearful lengths they've gone, And what a brink they stand upon.
Old Bute and North, twin sons of hell, If you advised him to retreat Before our vanquished thousands fell, Prostrate, submissive at his feet: Awake once more his latent flame, And bid us yield you all you claim.
The Macedonian wept and sighed Because no other world was found Where he might glut his rage and pride, And by its ruin be renowned; The world that Sawney wished to view George fairly had--and lost it too!
Let jarring powers make war or peace, Monster!--no peace can greet your breast! Our murdered friends can never cease To hover round and break your rest! The Furies will your bosom tear, Remorse, distraction, and despair And hell, with all its fiends, be there!
Cursed be the ship that e'er sets sail Hence, freighted for your odious shore; May tempests o'er her strength prevail, Destruction round her roar! May Nature all her aids deny, The sun refuse his light, The needle from its object fly, No star appear by night: Till the base pilot, conscious of his crime, Directs the prow to some more Christian clime.
Genius! that first our race designed, To other kings impart The finer feelings of the mind, The virtues of the heart; Whene'er the honors of a throne Fall to the bloody and the base, Like Britain's tyrant, pull them down, Like his, be their disgrace!
Hibernia, seize each native right! Neptune, exclude him from the main; Like her that sunk with all her freight, The Royal George, take all his fleet, And never let them rise again; Confine him to his gloomy isle, Let Scotland rule her half, Spare him to curse his fate awhile, And Whitehead, thou to write his epitaph.
PHILIP FRENEAU.
ENGLAND AND AMERICA IN 1782
O Thou, that sendest out the man To rule by land and sea, Strong mother of a Lion-line, Be proud of those strong sons of thine Who wrench'd their rights from thee!
What wonder if in noble heat Those men thine arms withstood, Retaught the lesson thou had'st taught, And in thy spirit with thee fought,-- Who sprang from English blood!
But thou rejoice with liberal joy, Lift up thy rocky face, And shatter, when the storms are black, In many a streaming torrent back, The seas that shock thy base!
Whatever harmonies of law The growing world assume, Thy work is thine--the single note From that deep chord which Hampden smote Will vibrate to the doom.
ALFRED TENNYSON.
A preliminary treaty of peace was finally agreed upon. Carleton received orders to evacuate New York, and on October 18, 1783, Congress issued a general order disbanding the American army.
ON DISBANDING THE ARMY
[October 18, 1783]
Ye brave Columbian bands! a long farewell! Well have ye fought for freedom--nobly done Your martial task--the meed immortal won-- And Time's last records shall your triumphs tell.
Once friendship made their cup of suff'rings sweet-- The dregs how bitter, now those bands must part! Ah! never, never more on earth to meet; Distill'd from gall that inundates the heart, What tears from heroes' eyes are seen to start!
Ye, too, farewell, who fell in fields of gore, And chang'd tempestuous toil for rest serene; Soon shall we join you on the peaceful shore (Though gulfs irremeable roll between), Thither by death-tides borne, as ye full soon have been.
DAVID HUMPHREYS.
November 25 was fixed upon as the date for the evacuation of New York. Early on that day, Carleton got his troops on shipboard, and by the middle of the afternoon the city was in the hands of the Americans. The song which is given below was composed for and sung upon this occasion.
EVACUATION OF NEW YORK BY THE BRITISH
[November 25, 1783]
They come!--they come!--the heroes come With sounding fife, with thundering drum; Their ranks advance in bright array,-- The heroes of America!
He comes!--'tis mighty Washington (Words fail to tell all he has done), Our hero, guardian, father, friend! His fame can never, never end.
He comes!--he comes!--our Clinton comes! Justice her ancient seat resumes: From shore to shore let shouts resound, For Justice comes, with Freedom crown'd.
She comes!--the angelic virgin--Peace, And bids stern War his horrors cease; Oh! blooming virgin, with us stay, And bless, oh! bless America.
Since Freedom has our efforts crown'd, Let flowing bumpers pass around: The toast is, "Freedom's favorite son, Health, peace, and joy to Washington!"
On Thursday, December 4, the principal officers of the army assembled at Fraunce's Tavern to take a final leave of their beloved chief. A few days later, at Annapolis, Washington resigned his commission, and betook himself to the quiet of his estate at Mount Vernon.
OCCASIONED BY GENERAL WASHINGTON'S ARRIVAL IN PHILADELPHIA, ON HIS WAY TO HIS RESIDENCE IN VIRGINIA
[December, 1783]
The great unequal conflict past, The Briton banished from our shore, Peace, heaven-descended, comes at last, And hostile nations rage no more; From fields of death the weary swain Returning, seeks his native plain.
In every vale she smiles serene, Freedom's bright stars more radiant rise, New charms she adds to every scene, Her brighter sun illumes our skies. Remotest realms admiring stand, And hail the Hero of our land:
He comes!--the Genius of these lands-- Fame's thousand tongues his worth confess, Who conquer'd with his suffering bands, And grew immortal by distress: Thus calms succeed the stormy blast, And valor is repaid at last.
O WASHINGTON!--thrice glorious name, What due rewards can man decree-- Empires are far below thy aim, And sceptres have no charms for thee; Virtue alone has your regard, And she must be your great reward.
Encircled by extorted power, Monarchs must envy your Retreat Who cast, in some ill-fated hour, Their country's freedom at their feet; 'Twas yours to act a nobler part, For injur'd Freedom had your heart.
For ravag'd realms and conquer'd seas Rome gave the great imperial prize, And, swell'd with pride, for feats like these, Transferr'd her heroes to the skies:-- A brighter scene your deeds display, You gain those heights a different way.
When Faction rear'd her bristly head, And join'd with tyrants to destroy, Where'er you march'd the monster fled, Timorous her arrows to employ: Hosts catch'd from you a bolder flame, And despots trembled at your name.
Ere war's dread horrors ceas'd to reign, What leader could your place supply?-- Chiefs crowded to the embattled plain, Prepar'd to conquer or to die-- Heroes arose--but none, like you, Could save our lives and freedom too.
In swelling verse let kings be read, And princes shine in polish'd prose; Without such aid your triumphs spread Where'er the convex ocean flows, To Indian worlds by seas embrac'd, And Tartar, tyrant of the waste.
Throughout the east you gain applause, And soon the Old World, taught by you, Shall blush to own her barbarous laws, Shall learn instruction from the New. Monarchs shall hear the humble plea, Nor urge too far the proud decree.
Despising pomp and vain parade, At home you stay, while France and Spain The secret, ardent wish convey'd, And hail'd you to their shores in vain: In Vernon's groves you shun the throne, Admir'd by kings, but seen by none.
Your fame, thus spread to distant lands, May envy's fiercest blasts endure, Like Egypt's pyramids it stands, Built on a basis more secure; Time's latest age shall own in you The patriot and the statesman too.
Now hurrying from the busy scene, Where thy Potowmack's waters flow, May'st thou enjoy thy rural reign, And every earthly blessing know; Thus he, who Rome's proud legions sway'd, Return'd, and sought his sylvan shade.
Not less in wisdom than in war Freedom shall still employ your mind, Slavery must vanish, wide and far, Till not a trace is left behind; Your counsels not bestow'd in vain, Shall still protect this infant reign.
So, when the bright, all-cheering sun From our contracted view retires, Though folly deems his race is run, On other worlds he lights his fires: Cold climes beneath his influence glow, And frozen rivers learn to flow.
O say, thou great, exalted name! What Muse can boast of equal lays, Thy worth disdains all vulgar fame, Transcends the noblest poet's praise. Art soars, unequal to the flight, And genius sickens at the height.
For States redeem'd--our western reign Restor'd by thee to milder sway, Thy conscious glory shall remain When this great globe is swept away And all is lost that pride admires, And all the pageant scene expires.
PHILIP FRENEAU.
Early in January, word reached America that the definite treaty of peace had been signed at Paris on November 30, 1783. The independence of the United States was acknowledged; the Mississippi was set as the western boundary of the country, the St. Croix and the Great Lakes as the northern, and the Gulf of Mexico as the southern. On January 14, 1784, this treaty was ratified by Congress.
THE AMERICAN SOLDIER'S HYMN
'Tis God that girds our armor on, And all our just designs fulfils; Through Him our feet can swiftly run, And nimbly climb the steepest hills.
Lessons of war from Him we take, And manly weapons learn to wield; Strong bows of steel with ease we break, Forced by our stronger arms to yield.
'Tis God that still supports our right, His just revenge our foes pursues; 'Tis He that with resistless might, Fierce nations to His power subdues.
Our universal safeguard He! From Whom our lasting honors flow; He made us great, and set us free From our remorseless bloody foe.
Therefore to celebrate His fame, Our grateful voice to Heaven we'll raise; And nations, strangers to His name, Shall thus be taught to sing His praise.
A day of solemn thanksgiving was set apart and universally observed throughout the country, which set its face toward the future, with a heart full of hope and high resolve.
THANKSGIVING HYMN
The Lord above, in tender love, Hath sav'd us from our foes; Through Washington the thing is done, The war is at a close.
America has won the day, Through Washington, our chief; Come let's rejoice with heart and voice, And bid adieu to grief.
Now we have peace, and may increase In number, wealth, and arts, If every one, like Washington, Will strive to do their parts.
Then let's agree, since we are free, All needless things to shun; And lay aside all pomp and pride, Like our great Washington.
Use industry, and frugal be, Like Washington the brave; So shall we see, 'twill easy be, Our country for to save,
From present wars and future foes, And all that we may fear; While Washington, the great brave one, Shall as our chief appear.
Industry and frugality Will all our taxes pay; In virtuous ways, we'll spend our days, And for our rulers pray.
The Thirteen States, united sets, In Congress simply grand; The Lord himself preserve their health, That they may rule the land.
Whilst every State, without its mate, Doth rule itself by laws, Will sovereign be, and always free; To grieve there is no cause.
But all should try, both low and high, Our freedom to maintain; Pray God to bless our grand Congress, And cease from every sin.
Then sure am I, true liberty Of every sort will thrive; With one accord we'll praise the Lord, All glory to Him give.
To whom all praise is due always, For He is all in all; George Washington, that noble one, On His great name doth call.
Our Congress too, before they do, Acknowledge Him supreme; Come let us all before Him fall, And glorify His name.
LAND OF THE WILFUL GOSPEL[6]
From "Psalm of the West"
Land of the Wilful Gospel, thou worst and thou best; Tall Adam of lands, new-made of the dust of the West; Thou wroughtest alone in the Garden of God, unblest Till He fashioned lithe Freedom to lie for thine Eve on thy breast-- Till out of thy heart's dear neighborhood, out of thy side, He fashioned an intimate Sweet one and brought thee a Bride. Cry hail! nor bewail that the wound of her coming was wide. Lo, Freedom reached forth where the world as an apple hung red; Let us taste the whole radiant round of it, gayly she said: If we die, at the worst we shall lie as the first of the dead. Knowledge of Good and of Ill, O Land! she hath given thee; Perilous godhoods of choosing have rent thee and riven thee; Will's high adoring to Ill's low exploring hath driven thee-- Freedom, thy Wife, hath uplifted thy life and clean shriven thee! Her shalt thou clasp for a balm to the scars of thy breast, Her shalt thou kiss for a calm to thy wars of unrest, Her shalt extol in the psalm of the soul of the West. For Weakness, in freedom, grows stronger than Strength with a chain; And Error, in freedom, will come to lamenting his stain, Till freely repenting he whiten his spirit again; And Friendship, in freedom, will blot out the bounding of race; And straight Law, in freedom, will curve to the rounding of grace; And Fashion, in freedom, will die of the lie in her face.
SIDNEY LANIER.
[6] From Poems by Sidney Lanier; copyright, 1884, 1891, by Mary D. Lanier; published by Charles Scribner's Sons.Return to passage
III. THE PERIOD OF GROWTH
"OH MOTHER OF A MIGHTY RACE"
Oh mother of a mighty race, Yet lovely in thy youthful grace! The elder dames, thy haughty peers, Admire and hate thy blooming years. With words of shame And taunts of scorn they join thy name.
For on thy cheeks the glow is spread That tints thy morning hills with red; Thy step--the wild deer's rustling feet Within thy woods are not more fleet; Thy hopeful eye Is bright as thine own sunny sky.
Ay, let them rail--those haughty ones, While safe thou dwellest with thy sons. They do not know how loved thou art, How many a fond and fearless heart Would rise to throw Its life between thee and the foe.
They know not, in their hate and pride, What virtues with thy children bide; How true, how good, thy graceful maids Make bright, like flowers, the valley-shades; What generous men Spring, like thine oaks, by hill and glen;--
What cordial welcomes greet the guest By thy lone rivers of the West; How faith is kept, and truth revered, And man is loved, and God is feared, In woodland homes, And where the ocean border foams.
There's freedom at thy gates and rest For earth's down-trodden and opprest, A shelter for the hunted head, For the starved laborer toil and bread. Power, at thy bounds, Stops and calls back his baffled hounds.
Oh, fair young mother! on thy brow Shall sit a nobler grace than now. Deep in the brightness of the skies The thronging years in glory rise, And, as they fleet, Drop strength and riches at thy feet.
WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.
I. THE NEW NATION
The war was ended, but the five years following 1783 were perhaps the most critical in the history of the American people. The country was at the verge of bankruptcy, there was discontent everywhere. In Massachusetts, the malcontents found a leader in Daniel Shays, rose in rebellion, looted the country, and were not dispersed for nearly a year.
A RADICAL SONG OF 1786
Huzza, my Jo Bunkers! no taxes we'll pay; Here's a pardon for Wheeler, Shays, Parsons, and Day; Put green boughs in your hats, and renew the old cause; Stop the courts in each county, and bully the laws: Constitutions and oaths, sir, we mind not a rush; Such trifles must yield to us lads of the bush. New laws and new charters our books shall display, Composed by conventions and Counsellor Grey.
Since Boston and Salem so haughty have grown, We'll make them to know we can let them alone. Of Glasgow or Pelham we'll make a seaport, And there we'll assemble our General Court: Our governor, now, boys, shall turn out to work, And live, like ourselves, on molasses and pork; In Adams or Greenwich he'll live like a peer On three hundred pounds, paper money, a year.
Grand jurors, and sheriffs, and lawyers we'll spurn, As judges, we'll all take the bench in our turn, And sit the whole term, without pension or fee, Nor Cushing nor Sewal look graver than we. Our wigs, though they're rusty, are decent enough; Our aprons, though black, are of durable stuff; Array'd in such gear, the laws we'll explain, That poor people no more shall have cause to complain.
To Congress and impost we'll plead a release; The French we can beat half-a-dozen apiece; We want not their guineas, their arms, or alliance; And as for the Dutchmen, we bid them defiance. Then huzza, my Jo Bunkers! no taxes we'll pay; Here's a pardon for Wheeler, Shays, Parsons and Day; Put green boughs in your hats, and renew the old cause; Stop the courts in each county, and bully the laws.
ST. JOHN HONEYWOOD.
A federal convention was proposed, and in May, 1787, there assembled at Philadelphia fifty-five men appointed by the various states to devise an adequate constitution for a federal government.
THE FEDERAL CONVENTION
[May, 1787]
Concentred here th' united wisdom shines, Of learn'd judges, and of sound divines: Patriots, whose virtues searching time has tried, Heroes, who fought, where brother heroes died; Lawyers, who speak, as Tully spoke before, Sages, deep read in philosophic lore; Merchants, whose plans are to no realms confin'd, Farmers--the noblest title 'mongst mankind: Yeomen and tradesmen, pillars of the state; On whose decision hangs Columbia's fate.
September, 1787.
George Washington was chosen president of the convention; the doors were locked, and the Herculean task of making a constitution begun. Washington himself, in a burst of noble eloquence, braced the delegates for the task before them. The problem was to devise a government which should bind all the states without impairing their sovereignty.
TO THE FEDERAL CONVENTION
[1787]
Be then your counsels, as your subject, great, A world their sphere, and time's long reign their date. Each party-view, each private good, disclaim, Each petty maxim, each colonial aim; Let all Columbia's weal your views expand, A mighty system rule a mighty land; Yourselves her genuine sons let Europe own, Not the small agents of a paltry town. Learn, cautious, what to alter, where to mend; See to what close projected measures tend. From pressing wants the mind averting still, Thinks good remotest from the present ill: From feuds anarchial to oppression's throne, Misguided nations hence for safety run; And through the miseries of a thousand years, Their fatal folly mourn in bloody tears. Ten thousand follies thro' Columbia spread; Ten thousand wars her darling realms invade. The private interest of each jealous state; Of rule th' impatience and of law the hate. But ah! from narrow springs these evils flow, A few base wretches mingle general woe; Still the same mind her manly race pervades; Still the same virtues haunt the hallow'd shades. But when the peals of war her centre shook, All private aims the anxious mind forsook. In danger's iron-bond her race was one, Each separate good, each little view unknown. Now rule, unsystem'd, drives the mind astray; Now private interest points the downward way: Hence civil discord pours her muddy stream, And fools and villains float upon the brim; O'er all, the sad spectator casts his eye, And wonders where the gems and minerals lie. But ne'er of freedom, glory, bliss, despond: Uplift your eyes those little clouds beyond; See there returning suns, with gladdening ray, Roll on fair spring to chase this wint'ry day. 'Tis yours to bid those days of Eden shine: First, then, and last, the federal bands entwine: To this your every aim and effort bend: Let all your efforts here commence and end. O'er state concerns, let every state preside; Its private tax controul; its justice guide; Religion aid; the morals to secure; And bid each private right thro' time endure. Columbia's interests public sway demand, Her commerce, impost, unlocated land; Her war, her peace, her military power; Treaties to seal with every distant shore; To bid contending states their discord cease; To send thro' all the calumet of peace; Science to wing thro' every noble flight; And lift desponding genius into light. Be then your task to alter, aid, amend; The weak to strengthen, and the rigid bend; The prurient lop; what's wanted to supply; And grant new scions from each friendly sky.
TIMOTHY DWIGHT.
There was a natural antagonism between large and small states, and more than once the convention was on the verge of dissolution; but a compromise was finally reached, the constitution as we know it was evolved and signed by all the delegates, and on September 17, 1787, the convention adjourned. The constitution was familiarly styled the "new roof."
THE NEW ROOF
A SONG FOR FEDERAL MECHANICS
[1787]
I
Come muster, my lads, your mechanical tools, Your saws and your axes, your hammers and rules; Bring your mallets and planes, your level and line, And plenty of pins of American pine: _For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be, Our government firm, and our citizens free_.
II
Come, up with the plates, lay them firm on the wall, Like the people at large, they're the groundwork of all; Examine them well, and see that they're sound, Let no rotten part in our building be found: _For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be A government firm, and our citizens free_.
III
Now hand up the girders, lay each in his place, Between them the joists, must divide all the space; Like assemblymen these should lie level along, Like girders, our senate prove loyal and strong: _For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be A government firm over citizens free_.
IV
The rafters now frame; your king-posts and braces, And drive your pins home, to keep all in their places; Let wisdom and strength in the fabric combine, And your pins be all made of American pine: _For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be, A government firm over citizens free_.
V
Our king-posts are judges; how upright they stand, Supporting the braces; the laws of the land: The laws of the land, which divide right from wrong, And strengthen the weak, by weak'ning the strong: _For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be, Laws equal and just, for a people that's free_.
VI
Up! up! with the rafters; each frame is a state: How nobly they rise! their span, too, how great! From the north to the south, o'er the whole they extend, And rest on the walls, whilst the walls they defend: _For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be Combined in strength, yet as citizens free_.
VII
Now enter the purlins, and drive your pins through; And see that your joints are drawn home and all true. The purlins will bind all the rafters together: The strength of the whole shall defy wind and weather: _For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be, United as states, but as citizens free_.
VIII
Come, raise up the turret; our glory and pride; In the centre it stands, o'er the whole to preside: The sons of Columbia shall view with delight Its pillars, and arches, and towering height: _Our roof is now rais'd, and our song still shall be, A federal head o'er a people that's free_.
IX
Huzza! my brave boys, our work is complete; The world shall admire Columbia's fair seat; Its strength against tempest and time shall be proof, And thousands shall come to dwell under our roof: _Whilst we drain the deep bowl, our toast still shall be, Our government firm, and our citizens free_.
FRANCIS HOPKINSON.
The new constitution had still to be submitted to the several states for ratification. One after another they fell into line, but Massachusetts held back. On January 9, 1788, the convention met, and week after week dragged by in fierce debate; but finally, on February 6, 1788, the Constitution was ratified by a majority of nineteen votes.
CONVENTION SONG
[February 6, 1788]
The 'Vention did in Boston meet But State House could not hold 'em, So they went to Federal Street, And there the truth was told 'em. Yankee doodle, keep it up! Yankee doodle, dandy, Mind the music and the step, And with the girls be handy.
They every morning went to prayer; And then began disputing; Till opposition silenced were, By arguments refuting.
Then 'Squire Hancock, like a man Who dearly loves the nation, By a Concil'atory plan, Prevented much vexation.
He made a woundy Fed'ral speech, With sense and elocution; And then the Yankees did beseech T' adopt the Constitution.
The question being outright put (Each voter independent), The Fed'ralists agreed to adopt, And then propose amendments.
The other party seeing then The People were against them, Agreed, like honest, faithful men, To mix in peace amongst 'em.
The Boston folks are deuced lads, And always full of notions; The boys, the girls, their mams and dads, Were fill'd with joy's commotions.
So straightway they procession made, Lord, how nation fine, sir! For every man of every trade Went with his tools--to dine, sir.
John Foster Williams in a ship Join'd with the social band, sir And made the lasses dance and skip, To see him sail on land, sir!
O then a whopping feast began, And all hands went to eating, They drank their toasts, shook hands and sung-- Huzza for 'Vention meeting!
Now, politicians, of all kinds, Who are not yet derided, May see how Yankees speak their minds, And yet we're not decided.
Then from this sample, let 'em cease Inflammatory writing; For freedom, happiness, and peace, Are better far than fighting.
So here I end my Federal song, Composed of thirteen verses; May agriculture flourish long, And commerce fill our purses.
Hot battles were still to be fought in some of the other states,--hottest of all in New York,--but by midsummer of 1788 all the states had ratified the Constitution, and it stood an accomplished fact.
THE FEDERAL CONSTITUTION
Poets may sing of their Helicon streams; Their gods and their heroes are fabulous dreams! They ne'er sang a line Half so grand, so divine As the glorious toast We Columbians boast-- The Federal Constitution, boys, and Liberty forever.
The man of our choice presides at the helm; No tempest can harm us, no storm overwhelm; Our sheet anchor's sure, And our bark rides secure; So here's to the toast We Columbians boast-- The Federal Constitution and the President forever.
A free navigation, commerce, and trade, We'll seek for no foe, of no foe be afraid; Our frigates shall ride, Our defence and our pride; Our tars guard our coast, And huzza for our toast-- The Federal Constitution, trade and commerce forever.
Montgomery and Warren still live in our songs; Like them our young heroes shall spurn at our wrongs: The world shall admire The zeal and the fire, Which blaze in the toast We Columbians boast-- The Federal Constitution and its advocates forever.
When an enemy threats, all party shall cease; We bribe no intruders to buy a mean peace; Columbia will scorn Friends and foes to suborn; We'll ne'er stain the toast Which as freemen we boast-- The Federal Constitution, and integrity forever.
Fame's trumpet shall swell in Washington's praise, And time grant a furlough to lengthen his days; May health weave the thread Of delight round his head. No nation can boast Such a name, such a toast, The Federal Constitution, boys, and Washington forever.
WILLIAM MILNS.
The Continental Congress, in putting an end to its troubled existence, decreed that the first presidential election should be held on the first Wednesday of January, 1789, and that the Senate and House of Representatives should assemble on the first Wednesday in March.
THE FIRST AMERICAN CONGRESS
[April 6, 1789]
Columbus looked; and still around them spread, From south to north, th' immeasurable shade; At last, the central shadows burst away, And rising regions open'd on the day. He saw, once more, bright Del'ware's silver stream, And Penn's throng'd city cast a cheerful gleam; The dome of state, that met his eager eye, Now heav'd its arches in a loftier sky. The bursting gates unfold: and lo, within, A solemn train in conscious glory shine. The well-known forms his eye had trac'd before, In diff'rent realms along th' extended shore; Here, grac'd with nobler fame, and rob'd in state, They look'd and mov'd magnificently great. High on the foremost seat, in living light, Majestic Randolph caught the hero's sight: Fair on his head, the civic crown was plac'd, And the first dignity his sceptre grac'd. He opes the cause, and points in prospect far, Thro' all the toils that wait th' impending war-- But, hapless sage, thy reign must soon be o'er, To lend thy lustre, and to shine no more. So the bright morning star, from shades of ev'n, Leads up the dawn, and lights the front of heav'n, Points to the waking world the sun's broad way, Then veils his own, and shines above the day. And see great Washington behind thee rise, Thy following sun, to gild our morning skies; O'er shadowy climes to pour the enliv'ning flame, The charms of freedom and the fire of fame. Th' ascending chief adorn'd his splendid seat, Like Randolph, ensign'd with a crown of state; Where the green patriot bay beheld, with pride, The hero's laurel springing by its side; His sword, hung useless, on his graceful thigh, On Britain still he cast a filial eye; But sov'reign fortitude his visage bore, To meet their legions on th' invaded shore. Sage Franklin next arose, in awful mien, And smil'd, unruffled, o'er th' approaching scene; High, on his locks of age, a wreath was brac'd, Palm of all arts, that e'er a mortal grac'd; Beneath him lies the sceptre kings have borne, And crowns and laurels from their temples torn. Nash, Rutledge, Jefferson, in council great, And Jay and Laurens op'd the rolls of fate. The Livingstons, fair Freedom's gen'rous band, The Lees, the Houstons, fathers of the land, O'er climes and kingdoms turn'd their ardent eyes, Bade all th' oppressed to speedy vengeance rise; All pow'rs of state, in their extended plan, Rise from consent to shield the rights of man. Bold Wolcott urg'd the all-important cause; With steady hand the solemn scene he draws; Undaunted firmness with his wisdom join'd, Nor kings nor worlds could warp his stedfast mind. Now, graceful rising from his purple throne, In radiant robes, immortal Hosmer shone; Myrtles and bays his learned temples bound, The statesman's wreath, the poet's garland crown'd: Morals and laws expand his liberal soul, Beam from his eyes, and in his accents roll. But lo! an unseen hand the curtain drew, And snatch'd the patriot from the hero's view; Wrapp'd in the shroud of death, he sees descend The guide of nations and the muses' friend. Columbus dropp'd a tear. The angel's eye Trac'd the freed spirit mounting thro' the sky. Adams, enrag'd, a broken charter bore, And lawless acts of ministerial pow'r; Some injur'd right in each loose leaf appears, A king in terrors and a land in tears; From all the guileful plots the veil he drew, With eye retortive look'd creation through; Op'd the wide range of nature's boundless plan, Trac'd all the steps of liberty and man; Crowds rose to vengeance while his accents rung, And Independence thunder'd from his tongue.
JOEL BARLOW.
The first business was the counting of the electoral votes. There were sixty-nine of them, and every one was for George Washington, of Virginia.
WASHINGTON
God wills no man a slave. The man most meek, Who saw Him face to face on Horeb's peak, Had slain a tyrant for a bondman's wrong, And met his Lord with sinless soul and strong. But when, years after, overfraught with care, His feet once trod doubt's pathway to despair, For that one treason lapse, the guiding hand That led so far now barred the promised land. God makes no man a slave, no doubter free; Abiding faith alone wins liberty.
No angel led our Chieftain's steps aright; No pilot cloud by day, no flame by night; No plague nor portent spake to foe or friend; No doubt assailed him, faithful to the end.
Weaklings there were, as in the tribes of old, Who craved for fleshpots, worshipped calves of gold, Murmured that right would harder be than wrong, And freedom's narrow road so steep and long; But he who ne'er on Sinai's summit trod, Still walked the highest heights and spake with God; Saw with anointed eyes no promised land By petty bounds or pettier cycles spanned, Its people curbed and broken to the ring, Packed with a caste and saddled with a King,-- But freedom's heritage and training school, Where men unruled should learn to wisely rule, Till sun and moon should see at Ajalon King's heads in dust and freemen's feet thereon.
His work well done, the leader stepped aside, Spurning a crown with more than kingly pride, Content to wear the higher crown of worth, While time endures, First Citizen of earth.
JAMES JEFFREY ROCHE.
Washington left Mount Vernon on April 16, and started for New York, where, on April 30, 1789, he took the oath of office as President of the United States.
THE VOW OF WASHINGTON
[April 30, 1789]
The sword was sheathed: in April's sun Lay green the fields by Freedom won; And severed sections, weary of debates, Joined hands at last and were United States.
O City sitting by the Sea! How proud the day that dawned on thee, When the new era, long desired, began, And, in its need, the hour had found the man!
One thought the cannon salvos spoke, The resonant bell-tower's vibrant stroke, The voiceful streets, the plaudit-echoing halls, And prayer and hymn borne heavenward from St. Paul's!
How felt the land in every part The strong throb of a nation's heart, As its great leader gave, with reverent awe, His pledge to Union, Liberty, and Law!
That pledge the heavens above him heard, That vow the sleep of centuries stirred; In world-wide wonder listening peoples bent Their gaze on Freedom's great experiment.
Could it succeed? Of honor sold And hopes deceived all history told. Above the wrecks that strewed the mournful past, Was the long dream of ages true at last?
Thank God! the people's choice was just, The one man equal to his trust, Wise beyond lore, and without weakness good, Calm in the strength of flawless rectitude!
His rule of justice, order, peace, Made possible the world's release; Taught prince and serf that power is but a trust, And rule alone, which serves the ruled, is just;
That Freedom generous is, but strong In hate of fraud and selfish wrong, Pretence that turns her holy truth to lies, And lawless license masking in her guise.
Land of his love! with one glad voice Let thy great sisterhood rejoice; A century's suns o'er thee have risen and set, And, God be praised, we are one nation yet.
And still we trust the years to be Shall prove his hope was destiny, Leaving our flag, with all its added stars, Unrent by faction and unstained by wars.
Lo! where with patient toil he nursed And trained the new-set plant at first, The widening branches of a stately tree Stretch from the sunrise to the sunset sea.
And in its broad and sheltering shade, Sitting with none to make afraid, Were we now silent, through each mighty limb, The winds of heaven would sing the praise of him.
Our first and best!--his ashes lie Beneath his own Virginian sky. Forgive, forget, O true and just and brave, The storm that swept above thy sacred grave!
For, ever in the awful strife And dark hours of the nation's life, Through the fierce tumult pierced his warning word, Their father's voice his erring children heard!
The change for which he prayed and sought In that sharp agony was wrought; No partial interest draws its alien line 'Twixt North and South, the cypress and the pine!
One people now, all doubt beyond, His name shall be our Union-bond; We lift our hands to Heaven, and here and now Take on our lips the old Centennial vow.
For rule and trust must needs be ours; Chooser and chosen both are powers Equal in service as in rights; the claim Of Duty rests on each and all the same.
Then let the sovereign millions, where Our banner floats in sun and air, From the warm palm-lands to Alaska's cold, Repeat with us the pledge a century old!
JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER.
Benjamin Franklin had been in ill-health for many months, and the end came at Philadelphia, April 17, 1790. He was born at Boston, January 17, 1706.
ON THE DEATH OF BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
[April 17, 1790]
Thus, some tall tree that long hath stood The glory of its native wood, By storms destroyed, or length of years, Demands the tribute of our tears.
The pile, that took long time to raise, To dust returns by slow decays; But, when its destined years are o'er, We must regret the loss the more.
So long accustomed to your aid, The world laments your exit made; So long befriended by your art, Philosopher, 'tis hard to part!--
When monarchs tumble to the ground Successors easily are found; But, matchless Franklin! what a few Can hope to rival such as you, Who seized from kings their sceptred pride, And turned the lightning's darts aside!
PHILIP FRENEAU.
On November 6, 1792, George Washington was again unanimously chosen President of the United States, and was inaugurated on March 4, 1793.
GEORGE WASHINGTON
This was the man God gave us when the hour Proclaimed the dawn of Liberty begun; Who dared a deed and died when it was done Patient in triumph, temperate in power,-- Not striving like the Corsican to tower To heaven, nor like great Philip's greater son To win the world and weep for worlds unwon, Or lose the star to revel in the flower. The lives that serve the eternal verities Alone do mould mankind. Pleasure and pride Sparkle awhile and perish, as the spray Smoking across the crests of cavernous seas Is impotent to hasten or delay The everlasting surges of the tide.
JOHN HALL INGHAM.
On September 19, 1796, Washington issued his "farewell address," declining a third term as President.
WASHINGTON
Where may the wearied eye repose When gazing on the Great; Where neither guilty glory glows, Nor despicable state? Yes--one--the first--the last--the best-- The Cincinnatus of the West, Whom envy dared not hate, Bequeath the name of Washington, To make men blush there was but one!
LORD BYRON.
The election was held on November 8, 1796, and the electoral votes were counted February 8, 1797. John Adams received seventy-one, Thomas Jefferson sixty-eight, Thomas Pinckney fifty-nine, and Aaron Burr thirty. Adams assumed office March 4, 1797. Relations with both France and England had become more than ever strained, and a war, especially with the former, seemed certain. These circumstances gave birth to one of the most popular political songs ever written in America.
ADAMS AND LIBERTY
[1798]
Ye sons of Columbia, who bravely have fought For those rights which unstained from your sires have descended, May you long taste the blessings your valor has bought, And your sons reap the soil which their fathers defended. 'Mid the reign of mild peace, May your nation increase, With the glory of Rome and the wisdom of Greece; And ne'er shall the sons of Columbia be slaves, While the earth bears a plant, or the sea rolls its waves.
In a clime, whose rich vales feed the marts of the world, Whose shores are unshaken by Europe's commotion, The trident of commerce should never be hurl'd, To incense the legitimate powers of the ocean. But should pirates invade, Though in thunder array'd, Let your cannon declare the free charter of trade. For ne'er shall the sons of Columbia be slaves, While the earth bears a plant, or the sea rolls its waves.
The fame of our arms, of our laws the mild sway, Had justly ennobled our nation in story, Till the dark clouds of faction obscured our young day, And enveloped the sun of American glory. But let traitors be told, Who their country have sold, And barter'd their God for his image in gold, That ne'er will the sons of Columbia be slaves, While the earth bears a plant, or the sea rolls its waves.
While France her huge limbs bathes recumbent in blood, And society's base threats with wide dissolution; May peace, like the dove who return'd from the flood, Find an ark of abode in our mild constitution. But, though peace is our aim, Yet the boon we disclaim, If bought by our sovereignty, justice, or fame; For ne'er shall the sons of Columbia be slaves, While the earth bears a plant, or the sea rolls its waves.
'Tis the fire of the flint, each American warms: Let Rome's haughty victors beware of collision, Let them bring all the vassals of Europe in arms, We're a world by ourselves, and disdain a division. While, with patriot pride, To our laws we're allied, No foe can subdue us, no faction divide, For ne'er shall the sons of Columbia be slaves, While the earth bears a plant, or the sea rolls its waves.
Our mountains are crown'd with imperial oak; Whose roots, like our liberties, ages have nourish'd; But long ere our nation submits to the yoke, Not a tree shall be left on the field where it flourish'd. Should invasion impend, Every grove would descend, From the hill-tops, they shaded, our shores to defend. For ne'er shall the sons of Columbia be slaves, While the earth bears a plant, or the sea rolls its waves.
Let our patriots destroy Anarch's pestilent worm; Lest our liberty's growth should be check'd by corrosion; Then let clouds thicken round us; we heed not the storm; Our realm fears no shock, but the earth's own explosion. Foes assail us in vain, Though their fleets bridge the main, For our altars and laws with our lives we'll maintain. For ne'er shall the sons of Columbia be slaves, While the earth bears a plant, or the sea rolls its waves.
Should the tempest of war overshadow our land, Its bolts could ne'er rend Freedom's temple asunder; For, unmov'd, at its portal, would Washington stand, And repulse, with his breast, the assaults of the thunder! His sword from the sleep Of its scabbard would leap, And conduct, with its point, every flash to the deep! For ne'er shall the sons of Columbia be slaves, While the earth bears a plant, or the sea rolls its waves.
Let fame to the world sound America's voice; No intrigues can her sons from their government sever; Her pride is her Adams; her laws are his choice, And shall flourish, till Liberty slumbers forever. Then unite heart and hand, Like Leonidas' band, And swear to the God of the ocean and land, That ne'er shall the sons of Columbia be slaves, While the earth bears a plant, or the sea rolls its waves.
ROBERT TREAT PAINE.
On May 28, 1798, Congress authorized a provisional army of ten thousand men and empowered the President to instruct the commanders of American ships of war to seize French armed vessels attacking American merchantmen, or hovering about the coast for that purpose. Public excitement ran high, and when Hopkinson's "Hail Columbia" was sung one night at a Philadelphia theatre, it met with instantaneous success.
HAIL COLUMBIA
[First sung at the Chestnut Street Theatre, Philadelphia, May, 1798]
Hail! Columbia, happy land! Hail! ye heroes, heav'n-born band, Who fought and bled in freedom's cause, Who fought and bled in freedom's cause, And when the storm of war was gone, Enjoyed the peace your valor won; Let independence be your boast, Ever mindful what it cost, Ever grateful for the prize, Let its altar reach the skies.
Chorus--Firm, united let us be, Rallying round our liberty, As a band of brothers joined, Peace and safety we shall find.
Immortal patriots, rise once more! Defend your rights, defend your shore; Let no rude foe with impious hand, Let no rude foe with impious hand Invade the shrine where sacred lies Of toil and blood the well-earned prize; While offering peace, sincere and just, In heav'n we place a manly trust, That truth and justice may prevail, And ev'ry scheme of bondage fail.
Sound, sound the trump of fame! Let Washington's great name Ring thro' the world with loud applause! Ring thro' the world with loud applause! Let ev'ry clime to freedom dear Listen with a joyful ear; With equal skill, with steady pow'r, He governs in the fearful hour Of horrid war, or guides with ease The happier time of honest peace.
Behold the chief, who now commands, Once more to serve his country stands, The rock on which the storm will beat! The rock on which the storm will beat! But armed in virtue, firm and true, His hopes are fixed on heav'n and you. When hope was sinking in dismay, When gloom obscured Columbia's day, His steady mind, from changes free, Resolved on death or liberty.
JOSEPH HOPKINSON.
Word crossed the ocean that Napoleon was gathering a great fleet at Toulon and it was generally believed that he intended to invade America. The fleet, of course, was intended for his expedition to Egypt, and the idea that he hoped to conquer America seems ludicrous enough, but some verses written by Thomas Green Fessenden in July, 1798, show how seriously it was entertained.
YE SONS OF COLUMBIA
AN ODE
[July, 1798]
Ye sons of Columbia, unite in the cause Of liberty, justice, religion, and laws; Should foes then invade us, to battle we'll hie, For the GOD OF OUR FATHERS will be our ally! Let Frenchmen advance, And all Europe join France, Designing our conquest and plunder; United and free Forever we'll be, And our cannon shall tell them in thunder, That foes to our freedom we'll ever defy, Till the continent sinks, and the ocean is dry!
When Britain assail'd us, undaunted we stood, Defended the land we had purchas'd with blood, Our liberty won, and it shall be our boast, If the old world united should menace our coast:-- Should millions invade, In terrour array'd, Our liberties bid us surrender, Our country they'd find With bayonets lin'd, And Washington here to defend her, For foes to our freedom we'll ever defy Till the continent sinks, and the ocean is dry!
Should Buonapart' come with his sans culotte band, And a new sort of freedom we don't understand, And make us an offer to give us as much As France has bestow'd on the Swiss and the Dutch, His fraud and his force Will be futile of course; We wish for no Frenchified Freedom: If folks beyond sea Are to bid us be free, We'll send for them when we shall need 'em. But sans culotte Frenchmen we'll ever defy, Till the continent sinks, and the ocean is dry!
We're anxious that Peace may continue her reign, We cherish the virtues which sport in her train; Our hearts ever melt, when the fatherless sigh, And we shiver at Horrour's funereal cry! But still, though we prize That child of the skies, We'll never like slaves be accosted. In a war of defence Our means are immense, And we'll fight till our all is exhausted: For foes to our freedom we'll ever defy, Till the continent sinks, and the ocean is dry!
The EAGLE of FREEDOM with rapture behold, Overshadow our land with his plumage of gold! The flood-gates of glory are open on high, And Warren and Mercer descend from the sky! They come from above With a message of love, To bid us be firm and decided; "At Liberty's call, Unite one and all, For you conquer, unless you're divided. Unite, and the foes to your freedom defy, Till the continent sinks and the ocean is dry!
"Americans, seek no occasion for war; The rude deeds of rapine still ever abhor: But if in defence of your rights you should arm, Let toils ne'er discourage, nor dangers alarm. For foes to your peace Will ever increase, If freedom and fame you should barter, Let those rights be yours, While nature endures, For OMNIPOTENCE gave you the charter!" Then foes to our freedom we'll ever defy, Till the continent sinks, and the ocean is dry!
THOMAS GREEN FESSENDEN.
Though there was to be no invasion to repel, the new navy was soon to win its spurs. On February 9, 1799, the Constellation, Captain Truxton, sighted the 36-gun frigate, Insurgente, off St. Kitts, in the West Indies, and promptly gave chase. The Frenchman was overhauled about the middle of the afternoon, and after a fierce engagement was forced to surrender. Two months later, Napoleon agreed to receive the American envoy "with the respect due a powerful nation," and all danger of war was soon over.
TRUXTON'S VICTORY
[February 9, 1799]
When Freedom, fair Freedom, her banner display'd, Defying each foe whom her rights would invade, Columbia's brave sons swore those rights to maintain, And o'er ocean and earth to establish her reign; United they cry, While that standard shall fly, Resolved, firm, and steady, We always are ready To fight, and to conquer, to conquer or die.
Tho' Gallia through Europe has rushed like a flood, And deluged the earth with an ocean of blood: While by faction she's led, while she's governed by knaves, We court not her smiles, and will ne'er be her slaves; Her threats we defy, While our standard shall fly, Resolved, firm, and steady, We always are ready To fight, and to conquer, to conquer or die.
Tho' France with caprice dares our Statesmen upbraid, A tribute demands, or sets bounds to our trade; From our young rising Navy our thunders shall roar, And our Commerce extend to the earth's utmost shore. Our cannon we'll ply, While our standard shall fly; Resolved, firm, and steady, We always are ready To fight, and to conquer, to conquer or die.
To know we're resolved, let them think on the hour, When Truxton, brave Truxton off Nevis's shore, His ship mann'd for battle, the standard unfurl'd, And at the Insurgente defiance he hurled; And his valiant tars cry, While our standard shall fly, Resolved, firm, and steady, We always are ready To fight, and to conquer, to conquer or die.
Each heart beat exulting, inspir'd by the cause; They fought for their country, their freedom and laws; From their cannon loud volleys of vengeance they pour'd, And the standard of France to Columbia was lower'd. Huzza! they now cry, Let the Eagle wave high; Resolved, firm, and steady, We always are ready To fight, and to conquer, to conquer or die.
Then raise high the strain, pay the tribute that's due To the fair Constellation, and all her brave Crew; Be Truxton revered, and his name be enrolled, 'Mongst the chiefs of the ocean, the heroes of old. Each invader defy, While such heroes are nigh, Who always are ready, Resolved, firm, and steady To fight, and to conquer, to conquer or die.
THE CONSTELLATION AND THE INSURGENTE
[February 9, 1799]
Come all ye Yankee sailors, with swords and pikes advance, 'Tis time to try your courage and humble haughty France, The sons of France our seas invade, Destroy our commerce and our trade, 'Tis time the reck'ning should be paid! To brave Yankee boys.
On board the Constellation, from Baltimore we came, We had a bold commander and Truxton was his name! Our ship she mounted forty guns, And on the main so swiftly runs, To prove to France Columbia's sons Are brave Yankee boys.
We sailed to the West Indies in order to annoy The invaders of our commerce, to burn, sink, and destroy; Our Constellation shone so bright, The Frenchmen could not bear the sight, And away they scamper'd in affright, From the brave Yankee boys.
'Twas on the 9th of February, at Montserrat we lay, And there we spy'd the Insurgente just at the break of day, We raised the orange and the blue, To see if they our signals knew, The Constellation and her crew Of brave Yankee boys.
Then all hands were called to quarters, while we pursued in chase, With well-prim'd guns, our tompions out, well spliced the main brace. Soon to the French we did draw nigh, Compelled to fight, they were, or fly, The word was passed, "CONQUER OR DIE," My brave Yankee boys.
Lord! our Cannons thunder'd with peals tremendous roar, And death upon our bullets' wings that drenched their decks with gore, The blood did from their scuppers run, Their chief exclaimed, "We are undone!" Their flag they struck, the battle won, By the brave Yankee boys.
Then to St. Kitts we steered, we bro't her safe in port, The grand salute was fired and answered from the fort, John Adams in full bumpers toast, George Washington, Columbia's boast, And now "the girl we love the most!" My brave Yankee boys.
1813.
On December 14, 1799, George Washington died at Mount Vernon after an illness lasting only a few days. The funeral took place four days later, with only such ceremonials as the immediate neighborhood provided.
WASHINGTON'S MONUMENT
For him who sought his country's good In plains of war, mid scenes of blood; Who, in the dubious battle's fray, Spent the warm noon of life's bright day, That to a world he might secure Rights that forever shall endure, Rear the monument of fame! Deathless is the hero's name.
For him, who, when the war was done, And victory sure, and freedom won, Left glory's theatre, the field, The olive branch of peace to wield; And proved, when at the helm of state, Though great in war, in peace as great; Rear the monument of fame! Deathless is the hero's name!
For him, whose worth, though unexpress'd, Lives cherish'd in each freeman's breast, Whose name, to patriot souls so dear, Time's latest children shall revere, Whose brave achievements praised shall be, While beats one breast for liberty; Rear the monument of fame! Deathless is the hero's name!
But why for him vain marbles raise? Can the cold sculpture speak his praise? Illustrious shade! we can proclaim Our gratitude, but not thy fame. Long as Columbia shall be free, She lives a monument of thee; And may she ever rise in fame, To honor thy immortal name!
Since 1785 it had been necessary to protect American commerce from the Barbary corsairs by paying tribute, but their demands grew so exorbitant that war was at last declared against Tripoli, and a squadron dispatched to the Mediterranean. One of this squadron was the Philadelphia, which ran aground and was captured by the pirates on October 31, 1803. The ship was towed into the harbor of Tripoli and anchored under the guns of the fortress. On the night of February 15, 1804, a party of seventy-five headed by Lieutenants Decatur and Lawrence and Midshipman Bainbridge, entered the harbor, boarded the Philadelphia, drove the Turkish crew overboard, set fire to the ship, and escaped without losing a man, having performed what Lord Nelson called "the most daring act of the age."
HOW WE BURNED THE PHILADELPHIA
[February 15, 1804]
_By the beard of the Prophet the Bashaw swore He would scourge us from the seas; Yankees should trouble his soul no more-- By the Prophet's beard the Bashaw swore, Then lighted his hookah, and took his ease, And troubled his soul no more._
The moon was dim in the western sky, And a mist fell soft on the sea, As we slipped away from the Siren brig And headed for Tripoli.
Behind us the hulk of the Siren lay, Before us the empty night; And when again we looked behind The Siren was gone from our sight.
Nothing behind us, and nothing before, Only the silence and rain, As the jaws of the sea took hold of our bows And cast us up again.
Through the rain and the silence we stole along, Cautious and stealthy and slow, For we knew the waters were full of those Who might challenge the Mastico.
But nothing we saw till we saw the ghost Of the ship we had come to see, Her ghostly lights and her ghostly frame Rolling uneasily.
And as we looked, the mist drew up And the moon threw off her veil, And we saw the ship in the pale moonlight, Ghostly and drear and pale.
Then spoke Decatur low and said: "To the bulwarks shadow all! But the six who wear the Tripoli dress Shall answer the sentinel's call."
"What ship is that?" cried the sentinel. "No ship," was the answer free; "But only a Malta ketch in distress Wanting to moor in your lee.
"We have lost our anchor, and wait for day To sail into Tripoli town, And the sea rolls fierce and high to-night, So cast a cable down."
Then close to the frigate's side we came, Made fast to her unforbid-- Six of us bold in the heathen dress, The rest of us lying hid.
But one who saw us hiding there "Americano!" cried. Then straight we rose and made a rush Pellmell up the frigate's side.
Less than a hundred men were we, And the heathen were twenty score; But a Yankee sailor in those old days Liked odds of one to four.
And first we cleaned the quarter-deck, And then from stern to stem We charged into our enemies And quickly slaughtered them.
All around was the dreadful sound Of corpses striking the sea, And the awful shrieks of dying men In their last agony.
The heathen fought like devils all, But one by one they fell, Swept from the deck by our cutlasses To the water, and so to hell.
Some we found in the black of the hold, Some to the fo'c's'le fled, But all in vain; we sought them out And left them lying dead;
Till at last no soul but Christian souls Upon that ship was found; The twenty score were dead, and we, The hundred, safe and sound.
And, stumbling over the tangled dead, The deck a crimson tide, We fired the ship from keel to shrouds And tumbled over the side.
Then out to sea we sailed once more With the world as light as day, And the flames revealed a hundred sail Of the heathen there in the bay.
All suddenly the red light paled, And the rain rang out on the sea; Then--a dazzling flash, a deafening roar, Between us and Tripoli!
Then, nothing behind us, and nothing before, Only the silence and rain; And the jaws of the sea took hold of our bows And cast us up again.
_By the beard of the Prophet the Bashaw swore He would scourge us from the seas; Yankees should trouble his soul no more-- By the Prophet's beard the Bashaw swore, Then lighted his hookah and took his ease, And troubled his soul no more._
BARRETT EASTMAN.
Arrangements were made to bombard the port and a concerted attack was made August 3, 1804. Two gunboats were captured and three sunk, and the shore batteries badly damaged. Attack after attack followed, and the war was finally ended by Tripoli renouncing all claim to tribute and releasing all American prisoners. It was during the first assault that Reuben James saved Decatur's life.
REUBEN JAMES
[August 3, 1804]
Three ships of war had Preble when he left the Naples shore, And the knightly king of Naples lent him seven galleys more, And never since the Argo floated in the middle sea Such noble men and valiant have sailed in company As the men who went with Preble to the siege of Tripoli. Stewart, Bainbridge, Hull, Decatur--how their names ring out like gold!-- Lawrence, Porter, Trippe, Macdonough, and a score as true and bold; Every star that lights their banner tells the glory that they won; But one common sailor's glory is the splendor of the sun.
Reuben James was first to follow when Decatur laid aboard Of the lofty Turkish galley and in battle broke his sword. Then the pirate captain smote him, till his blood was running fast, And they grappled and they struggled, and they fell beside the mast. Close behind him Reuben battled with a dozen, undismayed, Till a bullet broke his sword-arm, and he dropped the useless blade. Then a swinging Turkish sabre clove his left and brought him low, Like a gallant bark, dismasted, at the mercy of the foe. Little mercy knows the corsair: high his blade was raised to slay, When a richer prize allured him where Decatur struggling lay. "Help!" the Turkish leader shouted, and his trusty comrade sprung, And his scimetar like lightning o'er the Yankee captain swung.
Reuben James, disabled, armless, saw the sabre flashed on high, Saw Decatur shrink before it, heard the pirate's taunting cry, Saw, in half the time I tell it, how a sailor brave and true Still might show a bloody pirate what a dying man can do. Quick he struggled, stumbling, sliding in the blood around his feet, As the Turk a moment waited to make vengeance doubly sweet. Swift the sabre fell, but swifter bent the sailor's head below, And upon his 'fenceless forehead Reuben James received the blow!
So was saved our brave Decatur; so the common sailor died; So the love that moves the lowly lifts the great to fame and pride. Yet we grudge him not his honors, for whom love like this had birth-- For God never ranks His sailors by the Register of earth!
JAMES JEFFREY ROCHE.
In the spring of 1808 the schooner Betsy, of Marblehead, commanded by "Skipper Ireson," sighted a wreck while passing Cape Cod on her way home from the West Indies. It was dark at the time, and the sea was running high, so that she was unable to render any assistance. Another vessel soon afterwards rescued the people on the wreck, and they reached shore in season for news of the occurrence to reach Marblehead before the Betsy's arrival. A crowd met the vessel at the wharf, and the sailors, when called to account, protested that Ireson would not let them go to the relief of the wrecked vessel. The mob thereupon seized the unfortunate skipper, and putting him into an old dory, started to drag him to Beverly, where they said he belonged, in order to show him to his own people.
SKIPPER IRESON'S RIDE
[1808]
Of all the rides since the birth of time, Told in story or sung in rhyme,-- On Apuleius's Golden Ass, Or one-eyed Calender's horse of brass, Witch astride of a human back, Islam's prophet on Al-Borák,-- The strangest ride that ever was sped Was Ireson's out from Marblehead! Old Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart, Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart By the women of Marblehead!
Body of turkey, head of fowl, Wings a-droop like a rained-on fowl, Feathered and ruffled in every part, Skipper Ireson stood in the cart. Scores of women, old and young, Strong of muscle, and glib of tongue, Pushed and pulled up the rocky lane, Shouting and singing the shrill refrain: "Here's Flud Oirson, fur his horrd horrt, Torr'd an' futherr'd an' corr'd in a corrt By the women o' Morble'ead!"
Wrinkled scolds with hands on hips, Girls in bloom of cheek and lips, Wild-eyed, free-limbed, such as chase Bacchus round some antique vase, Brief of skirt, with ankles bare, Loose of kerchief and loose of hair, With conch-shells blowing and fish-horns' twang, Over and over the Mænads sang: "Here's Flud Oirson, fur his horrd horrt, Torr'd an' futherr'd an' corr'd in a corrt By the women o' Morble'ead!"
Small pity for him!--He sailed away From a leaking ship in Chaleur Bay,-- Sailed away from a sinking wreck, With his own town's-people on her deck! "Lay by! lay by!" they called to him. Back he answered, "Sink or swim! Brag of your catch of fish again!" And off he sailed through the fog and rain! Old Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart, Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart By the women of Marblehead!
Fathoms deep in dark Chaleur That wreck shall lie forevermore. Mother and sister, wife and maid, Looked from the rocks of Marblehead Over the moaning and rainy sea,-- Looked for the coming that might not be! What did the winds and the sea-birds say Of the cruel captain who sailed away?-- Old Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart, Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart By the women of Marblehead!
Through the street, on either side, Up flew windows, doors swung wide; Sharp-tongued spinsters, old wives gray, Treble lent the fish-horn's bray. Sea-worn grandsires, cripple-bound, Hulks of old sailors run aground, Shook head, and fist, and hat, and cane, And cracked with curses the hoarse refrain: "Here's Flud Oirson, fur his horrd horrt, Torr'd an' futherr'd an' corr'd in a corrt By the women o' Morble'ead!"
Sweetly along the Salem road Bloom of orchard and lilac showed. Little the wicked skipper knew Of the fields so green and the sky so blue. Riding there in his sorry trim, Like an Indian idol glum and grim, Scarcely he seemed the sound to hear Of voices shouting, far and near: "Here's Flud Oirson, fur his horrd horrt, Torr'd an' futherr'd an' corr'd in a corrt By the women o' Morble'ead!"
"Hear me, neighbors!" at last he cried,-- "What to me is this noisy ride? What is the shame that clothes the skin To the nameless horror that lives within? Waking or sleeping, I see a wreck, And hear a cry from a reeling deck! Hate me and curse me,--I only dread The hand of God and the face of the dead!" Said old Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart, Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart By the women of Marblehead!
Then the wife of the skipper lost at sea Said, "God has touched him! why should we!" Said an old wife mourning her only son, "Cut the rogue's tether and let him run!" So with soft relentings and rude excuse, Half scorn, half pity, they cut him loose, And gave him a cloak to hide him in, And left him alone with his shame and sin. Poor Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart, Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart By the women of Marblehead!
JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER.
Later investigation proved that Ireson was in no way responsible for the abandonment of the disabled ship, and that his crew had lied in order to save themselves.
A PLEA FOR FLOOD IRESON
[1808]
Old Flood Ireson! all too long Have jeer and gibe and ribald song Done thy memory cruel wrong.
Old Flood Ireson, bending low Under the weight of years and woe, Crept to his refuge long ago.
Old Flood Ireson sleeps in his grave; Howls of a mad mob, worse than the wave, Now no more in his ear shall rave!
* * * * *
Gone is the pack and gone the prey, Yet old Flood Ireson's ghost to-day Is hunted still down Time's highway.
Old wife Fame, with a fish-horn's blare Hooting and tooting the same old air, Drags him along the old thoroughfare.
Mocked evermore with the old refrain, Skilfully wrought to a tuneful strain, Jingling and jolting he comes again
Over that road of old renown, Fair broad avenue, leading down Through South Fields to Salem town,
Scourged and stung by the Muses' thong, Mounted high on the car of song, Sight that cries, O Lord! how long
Shall heaven look on and not take part With the poor old man and his fluttering heart, Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart?
Old Flood Ireson, now when Fame Wipes away with tears of shame Stains from many an injured name,
Shall not, in the tuneful line, Beams of truth and mercy shine Through the clouds that darken thine?
Take henceforth, perturbèd sprite, From the fever and the fright, Take the rest,--thy well-earned right.
Along the track of that hard ride The form of Penitence oft shall glide, With tender Pity by her side;
And their tears, that mingling fall On the dark record they recall, Shall cleanse the stain and expiate all.
CHARLES TIMOTHY BROOKS.