The Poems of Philip Freneau, Poet of the American Revolution. Volume 1 (of 3)

THE SEA VOYAGE176

From a gay island green and fair,With gentle blasts of southern air,Across the deep we held our way,Around our barque smooth waters played,No envious clouds obscur'd the day,Serene came on the evening shade.Still farther to the north we drew,And Porto Rico's mountains blue,Were just decaying on the eye,When from the main arose the sun;Before his ray the shadows fly,As we before the breezes run.Now northward of the tropic pass'd,The fickle skies grew black at last;The ruffian winds began to roar,The sea obey'd their tyrant force,And we, alas! too far from shore,Must now forsake our destin'd course.The studding sails at last to hand,The vent'rous captain gave command;But scarcely to the task went theyWhen a vast billow o'er us broke,And tore the sheets and tacks away,Nor could the booms sustain the stroke.Still vaster rose the angry main.The winds through every shroud complain;The topsails we could spread no more,Though doubly reef'd, the furious blastAway the fluttering canvas bore,And vow'd destruction to the mast.When now the northern storm was quell'd,A calm ensued – but ocean swell'dBeyond the towering mountain's height,Till from the south new winds arose;Our sails we spread at dead of night,And fair, though fierce, the tempest blows.When morning rose, the skies were clearThe gentle breezes warm and fair,Convey'd us o'er the wat'ry road;A ship o'ertook us on the way,Her thousand sails were spread abroad,And flutter'd in the face of day.At length, through many a climate pass'd,Cæsaria's hills we saw at last,And reach'd the land of lovely dames;My charming Cælia there I found,'Tis she my warmest friendship claims,The fairest maid that treads the ground.

1

Ann Maury's Memoirs of a Huguenot.

2

In the possession of the Historical Society of Pennsylvania.

3

Madison Papers, Vol. XIII. p. 9.

4

Introduction to the 1846 edition of "Modern Chivalry."

5

The United States Magazine, February number.

6

A perfectly preserved copy is in the possession of the Historical Society of Pennsylvania.

7

In the possession of Miss Adele M. Sweeney, Jersey City.

8

Published in the Freeman's Journal, August 20, 1788.

9

Published in the Freeman's Journal, July 8, 1789.

10

American Historical Review, January, 1898.

11

Randall's Life of Jefferson, vol. ii, 78.

12

Randall's Life of Thomas Jefferson, ii, 81.

13

Writings of Jefferson, i, 231.

14

Writings of Jefferson, i, 251.

15

Wallace Papers, vol. i. Pa. Hist. Soc.

16

Madison Papers, vol. xxi, p. 70.

17

In the possession of Adele M. Sweeney.

18

In the possession of Mrs. Helen K. Vreeland.

19

Madison Papers, xxxiv, p. 77.

20

Madison Papers, vol. xxxv, p. 17.

21

Morer. Horace, Epistles, Lib. ii, lines 1-4.

22

Jefferson Papers, series 2, vol. 34, p. 135.

23

Jefferson Papers, series 2, vol. 34, p. 134.

24

Madison Papers, vol. liv, p. 49.

25

Madison Papers, vol. liv, p. 49.

26

Madison Papers, vol. lv, p. 5.

27

Madison Papers, vol. lv, p. 77.

28

Contributed to Duyckinck's Cyclopædia of American Literature.

29

Found only in the 1786, 1795, and 1809 editions of the poet. The 1786 edition has the note: "This is rather to be considered as a paraphrase upon than a mere versification of the story of the Bible. Done in the year 1768."

30

From the 1809 edition of Freneau's poems. This piece does not appear in the editions of 1786 and 1788. It ran as a serial for several weeks in the National Gazette, beginning May 17, 1792, and it was immediately reprinted by Bache in his Aurora. I can find no earlier trace of it. It was printed, together with "The Country Printer," in 1794 by Hoff and Derrick, Philadelphia, as a 16-page pamphlet, under the title, "The Village Merchant," and it was given a place in the 1795 edition, dated "Anno 1768." In the 1809 edition it was first divided into sections with sub-titles.

31

The epilogue was first added in 1795.

32

The text is from the edition of 1786. The 1795 edition has the note "anno 1769."

33

Text from the edition of 1786. For the edition of 1795 Freneau cut out the song of Ismenius, beginning "Thou swain that lov'st the morning air," and extending to the speech of Sappho, "Ah, faithless Phaon."

34

This and the preceding line omitted from the later versions.

35

From the edition of 1786. The later editions omitted all but the first twenty and the last fourteen lines of the poem, and gave to this fragment the title "Ode to Fancy." The omitted lines, much changed, were then made a separate poem, under the title "Fancy's Ramble."

36

The first trace that I can find of this poem is in the Freeman's Journal of May 18, 1785. I have little doubt that it is the "Stanzas on an Ancient Dutch House on Long Island," mentioned in 1773 in a letter to Madison as forming a part of Freneau's publication, "The American Village," now lost. After its appearance in the Freeman's Journal, it was widely copied. The Independent Gazetteer printed it in 1787, introduced as follows: "The following is copied from Perryman's London Morning Herald of July 22, 1787: 'The Deserted Farm House,' written in America by Mr. Freneau, whose political productions tended considerably to keep alive the spirit of independence during the late civil war." I have followed the text of 1809. The poet constantly emended this poem; he seldom reprinted it without minor changes, usually for the better.

37

From the edition of 1809. The 1786 edition has the note, "Written 1770."

38

Shenstone. —Ed. 1786.

39

Sylvan. —Ed. 1786.

40

Dolly. —Ed. 1786.

41

"But swift as changing goblets pass,They bless the virtues of the glass." – Ed. 1786.

42

First published in the June number of the United States Magazine, 1779, under the title, "The Dying Elm: An Irregular Ode." This earliest version was much changed in its later editions; the third stanza was added for the edition of 1786. It may be doubted if Freneau much improved the poem from its first draft, save by the additional stanza. Following are some of the lines as they stood originally: "Companion of my musing care;" "Like fainting flowers that die at noon;" "O gentle tree, no more decline;" "And flourish'd for a day;" "Come, then, revive, sweet shady elm, lest I." With two minor exceptions the text was unvaried for the later editions.

43

According to the edition of 1786, this poem was "written 1770." The first trace that I find of it is in the June number of the United States Magazine, 1779. The 1786 text, which I have followed, was changed but little in the later editions.

44

This is a translation of the passage from Seneca used on the title page of The Rising Glory of America.

45

The text is from the edition of 1809. The poem, given originally as the graduating address of Freneau and Brackenridge at Princeton, Brackenridge delivering it, was first published In 1772 at Philadelphia, by Joseph Crukshank, for R. Aitken, bookseller. This pamphlet edition is the only one extant of the original poem. Freneau reprinted his own part, with many modifications and additions, in the first edition of his poems, 1786, explaining it with the following note: "This poem is a little altered from the original (published in Philadelphia in 1772), such parts being only inserted here as were written by the author of this volume. A few more modern lines towards the conclusion are incorporated with the rest, being a supposed prophetical anticipation of subsequent events." The text of the edition of 1772, which is now exceedingly rare, is as follows:

46

The title in the edition of 1786 was "Retirement." In 1795 it was changed to "The Wish of Diogenes."

47

The edition of 1786 has the date 1772 for this poem. Very little change was made in the text for the later editions.

48

First published in the edition of 1788, the text of which I have reproduced. Aside from several significant changes in Picture I., and the total omission of Pictures II. and III., the later editions contain but few variations. The edition of 1795 is signed "Anno 1774."

49

The four stanzas beginning "This world on paper idly drawn," are omitted from later editions, and the stanza beginning "But westward plac'd" is made to read:

"Far to the west what lengthen'd seas!"Are no gay islands found in these,"No sylvan worlds, by Nature meant"To balance Asia's vast extent?"

50

In later editions the last three stanzas are omitted, and in their place is added the following, taken partly from the words of the Inchantress in the next picture:

"If Neptune on my prowess smiles,And I detect his hidden isles,I hear some warning spirit say:'No monarch will your toils repay:'For this the ungrateful shall combine,'And hard misfortune must be thine;'For this the base reward remains'Of cold neglect and galling chains!'In a poor solitude forgot,'Reproach and want shall be the lot'Of him that gives new worlds to Spain'And westward spreads her golden reign.'On thy design what woes attend!'The nations at the ocean's end'No longer destined to be free'Shall owe distress and death to thee!'The seats of innocence and love'Shall soon the scenes of horror prove;'But why disturb these Indian climes,'The pictures of more happy times!'Has avarice, with unfeeling breast,'Has cruelty thy soul possess'd?'May ruin on thy boldness wait! —'And sorrow crown thy toils too late!'"

51

Pictures II. and III. are omitted from later editions.

52

The six lines beginning here are omitted in the later versions.

53

This and the two preceding lines omitted in later versions.

54

"Not one is so noisy as you." —Ed. 1795.

55

This and preceding line omitted in later versions.

56

Two lines added in later editions:

"Small motes I see, from ebbing rivers borne,And Neptune's waves a greener aspect wear."

57

"But to the depths below." —Ed. 1795.

58

One line added in later versions:

"A Spanish ponyard thro' his entrails driven."

59

Freneau mentions in this poem that it was printed in New York in September, 1775. I can find no trace of it, either as a separate publication or a contribution to a newspaper. As far as I can find, the poem is unique in the edition of 1809.

Mr. William Nelson of Paterson, N. J., Secretary of the New Jersey Historical Society, believes that the local allusions in the poem cannot be verified. He writes:

"There were but two taverns at the Passaic Falls at that time; one kept by Abraham Godwin, the other by James Leslie. Godwin and three of his sons went in the American Army at the beginning of the Revolution, and he died in the service. His widow survived him and carried on the tavern for a number of years. She had an intolerant hatred of all Tories. In 1776 Leslie was keeping a tavern at the present Passaic, a few miles below the Passaic Falls, and he continued there during the greater part of the Revolution, I think."The character of the tavern-keeper's wife, 'Scalpella,' is either purely fictitious or based on the character of some other person. Moreover, I do not think Passaic Falls was ever a summer resort of the character depicted in this poem. Travellers merely went there to see the Falls, occasionally staying over night, but I cannot think it possible that there could have been such a party assembled there at one time as indicated in the poem. I do not think the two taverns together could have accommodated so many people. The place was never called 'Passaic Village,' as stated in the note, but was known as Totown Bridge until 1792, when Paterson was founded. Passaic Village was the name given about forty years ago to the present city of Passaic."The only allusions in the poem which have some semblance of reality are the references to 'Miss Kitty,' by whom is perhaps meant the daughter of Lord Stirling; and 'Liberty Hall,' the residence of her uncle, Gov. Livingstone, near Elizabethtown. There was no such person as 'Gubbins.' I should think that the scene of the poem, if it has any foundation whatever in fact, was more probably laid somewhere near Philadelphia."

60

In August, 1775, Freneau emerges from the obscurity which has concealed him since the year of his graduation at Princeton, and enters upon an era of marvelous productiveness. For four months, poetry must have been his one thought, his one occupation. It was during this period of his life that he did his most spontaneous and original work.

61

The earliest trace I can find of this poem is in the 1786 edition of Freneau, where it is dated "New York, Sept. 26, 1775." In this edition, and in that of 1795, it had the title "Libera Nos, Domine." In the edition of 1809, which I have followed, it is dated "New-York, June, 1775." The earlier date is probably the date of publication.

62

"The devil." —Ed. 1786.

63

"Whom gold can corrupt." —Ed. 1786.

64

Lord Dunmore was the last Royal Governor of Virginia. In April, 1775, he had removed the public stores from Williamsburg, and with the aid of the navy and what forces he could raise, was waging open war on the colonies.

65

George Montagu, admiral of the British fleet during the early part of the war, did much to exasperate the colonists. "He stopped and searched vessels without adequate pretext, and fired at the market boats as they entered Newport harbor. He treated the farmers on the islands much as the Saracens in the Middle Ages treated the coast population of Italy." He was mild in appearance, but testy and arbitrary to an extraordinary degree. He covered the British retreat from Boston, aided Lord Dunmore to escape from Virginia, and took part in the capture of New York City.

66

William Tryon, the last Royal Governor of New York, informed of a resolution of the Continental Congress: "That it be recommended to the several provincial assemblies, in conventions and councils or committees of safety, to arrest and secure every person in their respective colonies whose going at large may, in their opinion, endanger the safety of the colony or the liberties of America," discerning the signs of the times, took refuge on board the Halifax packet in the harbour, and left the city in the middle of October, 1775. —Duyckinck.

67

Scoundrel. —Ed. 1786.

68

"From a dunce of a king who was born without brains,The utmost extent of whose sense is to seeThat reigning and making of buttons agree." —Ed. 1786.

69

This was published by Anderson in 1775. In Holt's New York Journal of July 6, it is advertised as just published. The advertisement observes that "This poem is humbly addressed to all true lovers of this once flourishing country, whether they shine as soldiers or statesmen. In it Ciceronian eloquence and patriotic fire are happily blended." The poet never reprinted it. The only copy of the poem extant, as far as I can discover, is that in the Library of Congress at Washington.

70

Of the siege of Havana, in July, 1762, Bancroft writes: "This siege was conducted in midsummer, against a city which lies just within the tropic. The country around the Moro Castle is rocky. To bind and carry the fascines was of itself a work of incredible labor;… sufficient earth to hold the fascines firm was gathered with difficulty from the crevices of the rocks. Once, after a drought of fourteen days, the grand battery took fire from the flames, and crackling and spreading where water could not follow it, nor earth stifle it, was wholly consumed. The climate spoiled a great part of the provisions. Wanting good water, many died in agonies of thirst. More fell victims of a putrid fever… Hundreds of carcasses floated on the ocean. And yet such was the enthusiasm of the English, such the resolute zeal of the sailors and soldiers, such the unity of action between the fleet and army, that the vertical sun of June and July, the heavy rains of August, raging fever, and strong and well defended fortresses, all the obstacles of nature and art were surmounted, and the most decisive victory of the war was gained."

71

From the edition of 1809. The original edition, which consisted of 114 lines, was first published in New York, by H. Gaine, in August, 1775. The poem was thus written and published in the early days of the siege.

General Gage, the last royal governor of Massachusetts, arrived in Boston May, 1774, and remained until October, 1775, when he was succeeded by Major General Howe. The siege of Boston began with the arrival of Washington before the city, early in July, 1775, and continued until Howe was forced to evacuate the city, the following March. Gage's incompetency was admitted even by his own countrymen. He was narrow-minded, and prejudiced, and unable to estimate justly the forces that were against him. His only argument was force and dictatorial interference.

72

This and the following line not in edition of 1775.

73

To fight for Britons against Englishmen. —Ed. 1775.

In such damn'd service to harass my brain. —Ed. 1786.

74

Four lines of the original edition omitted:

"North take advice, thy lucky genius show,Dismiss a legate to the world below,Sir Belzebub, for aid like thine we sue,Send up the damned and let them help me too."

75

A life like mine is of such mighty worth,I'll wrong my king if I should sally forth.

76

This and the following line is not in edition of 1775.

77

Some trophy of my tedious victory. —Ed. 1775.

78

The Lordship of a manor I would scorn. —Ed. 1775.

79

In place of the next eight lines, the edition of 1775 has the following:

"Let heaven's broad concave to the center ring,And Imps from hell their swifter vengeance wing;May heaven, if so the righteous judgment pass,Change earth to steel, the sky to solid brass."

80

Let hell-cats darting from some blackguard sphere. —Ed. 1786.

81

This and the four following lines not found in the edition of 1775.

82

It shows they think their freedom lies at stake. —Ed. 1775.

83

In the original edition these two lines read as follows:

"Like Captain Cook to Southern islands stray,And take new kings and kingdoms in my way."

84

"Foreign clime." —Ed. 1775. "Negro clime." —Ed. 1786.

85

This line, and the nine following, are not found in the edition of 1775.

86

Text from the edition of 1809. The poem was first published in New York in 1775 by Anderson, under the title, "A Voyage to Boston, a poem," and a second edition was printed the same year in Philadelphia for William Woodhouse. The revision of the poem in the 1786 edition of Freneau's works mentions that the poem was published in September, 1775. This is evidently a mistake. In the issue of October 21, of Anderson's Constitutional Gazette, appears the advertisement, "This day is published & to be sold by the printer, 'A Voyage to Boston: a Poem.'" The copy of the poem in possession of the Library Company, Philadelphia, has endorsed upon it, "published in October, 1775." This earliest version, only a fragment of which was given in the various editions of the poet's works, has never before been reprinted. It is as follows:

A VOYAGE TO BOSTON, A POEMArgument

Introductory reflections. A traveller undertakes a voyage to Boston: arrives in a river of Massachusetts: has there a sight of the native Genius of North-America, who presents him with a mantle, and acquaints him with its virtue of rendering the wearer invisible; desires him to visit the town in that state and remark the transactions there. Accordingly he arrives at General Gage's mansion, where are several other ministerial tools sitting in council. The striking similarity of Gage's temper and conduct to that of Hernando Cortez. Some account of Cortez, and his horrid devastations in Mexico, &c. The traveller enters their junto, and gives an account of the chief members of it, viz., General Gage, Admiral Greaves, General Burgoyne, Lord Percy, General Howe, Capt. Wallace, and a numerous fry of dependents and needy favourites waiting for posts and estates in America, as soon as they shall have compelled us to resign our liberties: General Gage's surprize at their several defeats in New-England, and questions his leaders thereupon. Lord Percy's answer: Greaves's reply to that nobleman: Gage's raillery upon Percy for his nimble retreat on April 19, 1775. Percy's defence of his conduct on that day, and the reason of his activity; and desires them to forget Lexington for the present, and turn their eyes to the late loss at Bunker's Hill. General Howe's speech concerning that action. Burgoyne's harrangue, with his invectives against Colonel Grant, who "pledged himself for the general cowardice of all America: " Gage's brief reply; and communicates his intention of purloining cattle from the islands, and plans that right honourable exploit; but being overcome by sleep, dismisses his counsellors. The cutting down the Liberty Tree in Boston, and untimely end of one of the wretches employed in that sneaking affair. Distresses of the imprisoned citizens in Boston. Dissection of a Tory. The traveller leaves Boston, and visits the Provincial Camp; meets the Genius of America again on the way and resigns the mantle, whereby he again becomes visible; arrives at the camp. View of the Rifle-men, Virginians, &c. Speech of an American soldier; his determined resolution, which is that of all America, to defend our rights and privileges. Grief that he must fight against our own nation. Mention of Carleton and Johnson; concludes with a melancholy recital of our present distractions, and sincere hope of reconcilation with Great Britain before a wicked ministry render it too late. Conclusion.

How curs'd the man whom fate's unhappy doomConfines, unluckly, to his native home,How doubly curs'd by cross grain'd stars is he,Whom fate ties down, tho' struggling to be free!Heaven gave to man this vast extended round.No climes confine him and no oceans bound;Heaven gave him forest, mountain, vale and plain,And bade him vanquish, if he could, the main:Then, miser, hoard and heap thy riches still,View the sun rise above thy well known hill,Vile as the swine, enjoy thy gloomy den,Sweat in the compass of a squalid pen,'Till sick of life, on terms with death agree,And leave thy fortune, not thy heart, to me.So mus'd the bard who this rough verse indites,Asserting freedom, and his country's rights:Nor mus'd in vain; the fruitful musings broughtTo practice what in theory he thought;And gave desire, a keen desire, to roamA hundred or two hundred leagues from home.Where should he go? The eastern hills reply,Come, pensive traveller, with thy tearful eye,Come, and fair Boston from our summit see,No city sits so widow-like as she;Her trading navies spread their sails no more,Remotest nations cease to seek her shore,Deep are her weeds – in darkest sable clad,O come and view the Queen of all that's sad,Long are her nights, that yield no chearful sound,Like endless nights in tombs below the ground,Low burns her lamp before th' insulting rout;See, the lamp dies, and every light goes out!O Britain come, and, if you can, relentThis rage, that better might on Spain be spent.Touch'd with the mountain's melancholy prayer(Perhaps a mountain or Dame Fancy there)Could I refuse, since mutual grief endears,To seek New Albion's Lady all in tears?But doubts perplexing hover'd o'er my mind,Whether to chuse the aid of horse or wind;That suits the best with bards of place and state,This must be needy Rhymers compensate,Since Jove his ancient bounty has deny'd,And grants no modern Pegasus to ride.Dark was the night, the winds tempestuous roar'dFrom western skies, and warn'd us all aboard;Spread were the sails, the nimble vessel fliesO'er Neptune's bosom and reflected skies;Nor halt I here to tell you how she rovesO'er Tython's chambers and his coral groves.Let some prose wand'rer long-sun journals keep,I haste me, like the vessel, o'er the deep;Nor tire you with descriptions of the coast,New mountains gain'd or hills in æther lost, —The muse can only hint at scenes like these,Not stop to spend her poem in their praise:Three days we cut the brine with steady prore,The fourth beheld as on New Albion's shore.Guard me, ye heavens, shield this defenceless head,While travelling o'er these sanguine plains of dead;Nor only me, may heaven defend us allFrom the harsh rigour of King George's ball.Far in the depth of an aspiring wood,Where roll'd its waves a silver winding flood,Our weary vessel urg'd its darksome way,And safely anchor'd in a shady bay.Landing, I left the weather-beaten crew,And pensive rov'd as home-sick travellers do;When all at once before my wand'ring eyes,The Genius of the river seem'd to rise;Tall and erect, untaught by years to bow,But not a smile relax'd his clouded brow:His swarthy features vengeful deeds forebode,Terror march'd on before him as he trode;His rattling quiver at his shoulder hung,His pointed spear and glitt'ring helmet rung;The tall oaks trembled at the warlike shade,When thus the Genius of the water said:"O curious stranger, come from far to seeWhat grieves us all, but none so much as me!The free-born Genius of the woods am I,Who scorn to dwell in lands of slavery;I, tho' unseen, command the heart to dare,And spread the soul of freedom thro' the air,That each may taste and value if he can,This sovereign good that constitutes the man:Here, in the center of tyrannic sway,I spread my spirit and forbid dismay,To every bosom dart may influence round,Like the sun beams that fructify the ground;But waft a timorous and ignoble breathWhere conscience, conscience bids them shrink at death."O stranger, led by Heaven's supreme decree,Go, view the dire effects of tyranny,Strait to the town direct thy fated way,But heark attentive, listen and obey,I to thy care commit this magic vest,To guard thee 'midst yon' spires, a viewless guest;Whene'er its wreathy folds thy limbs embrace,No mortal eye thy roving step shall trace;Unseen as ghosts that quit the clay below,Yet seeing all securely thou shalt go.There watch the motions of the hostile lines,Observe their counsels, watch their deep designs;Trace all their schemes, the lawless strength surveyOf licens'd robbers howling for their prey."So spoke the Genius of the shaded wave,And then the vest of wondrous virtue gave,Which scarce my limbs enwrapt, when I beganTo move as ne'er before did mortal man.Light as the air, as free as winds I stray'd,Pierc'd firmest rocks and walls for prisons made,Soar'd high, nor ask'd the feeble aid of art,And trac'd all secrets but the human heart.Then to the town I held my hasty course,To Boston's town subdu'd by lawless force;Close by a centinel I took my stride,The wretch ne'er saw me tho' I graz'd his side:But for my vest, what pains had been my lot.What gibes, what sneers, reproaches, and what not?Or in their place the robbers had constrainedTo turn a Tory, which my heart disdained.Now stalk'd I on towards the dome of state,Where Gage resides, our western Potentate,A second Cortez,[a] sent by heaven's command,To murder, rage, and ravage o'er our land;A very Cortez – what's the difference?He wants his courage and he wants his sense;E'en Cortez would our tyrant's part disdain.That murder'd strangers; this his countrymen;In all the rest resemblance so exact,No glass Venetian could more true reflect.In all their rest, congenial souls combin'd,The scourge, the curse and scandal of our kind.Cortez was sent by Spain's black brotherhood,Whose faith is murder, whose religion blood;Sent unprovok'd, with his Iberian train,To fat the soil with millions of the slain:Poor Mexico! arouse thy sanguine head,Peru, disclose thy hosts of murder'd dead!Let your vast plains all white with human bones,That bleeding lie, and ask sepulchral stones,Force a dumb voice and echo to the sky,The blasting curse of papal tyranny;And let your rocks, and let your hills proclaim,That Gage and Cortez' errand is the same.Say then what cause this murd'rous band restrains?The want of power is made the monster's chains,The streams of blood his heart foredooms to spill,Is but a dying serpent's rage to kill:What power shall drive this serpent from our shore,This scorpion, swoln with carnage, death, and gore?Twelve was the hour, – infernal darkness reign'd,Low hung the clouds, the stars their light restrain'd:High in the dome a dire assembly sat,A stupid council on affairs of state;To their dim lamps I urg'd my fearless way,And marching 'twixt their guards without delay,Step'd boldly in, and safely veil'd from view,Stood in the center of the black-guard crew.First, Gage was there – a mimic chair of state,

[a] Hernando Cortez, one of the original conquerors of Spanish America, who depopulated many provinces, and slew several millions of the natives of this continent. See Father Barthol. Du Casis's History. —Freneau's note.