My countrymen! I did not mount this rostrum to inveigh against the British; only the demagogues, the war faction I exclaim against. We all know, and that full well, that there are many honest, patriotic men in this country, who would raise their voices to succour us, and their arms too, could they do it with impunity. The sympathetic hearts of the good, feel for the oppressed in all climes. And now, my countrymen, it is more than probable, that the land of your nativity will be involved in war, and deluged in blood, for some time to come; yes, my friends, that happy country, which is the guardian of every thing you possess, that you esteem, near and dear, has again to struggle for her liberty. The British war faction are rushing upon us with their fleets and armies, thinking, perhaps, to crush us in a moment. Strange infatuation! They have forgotten Bunker's Hill! They have forgotten Saratoga, and Yorktown, when the immortal Washington, with his victorious army, chased them through the Jerseys, under the muzzles of their ship's cannon for protection! They have forgotten that the sons of America have as good blood in their veins, and possess as sound limbs and nerves as they; strange infatuation! I repeat it, if they presume to think that eight millions of free people will be very easily divested of their liberty; my word for it, they will not give up at the sight of their men-of-war, or their red coats; no, my friends, they will meet the lads who will play them the tune of yankee doodle, as well as they did at Lexington, or Bunker Hill. Besides, my countrymen, there is a plant in that country, (very little of which grows any where else) the infusion of which stimulates the true sons of America to deeds of valor. There is something so fostering in the very sound of its name, that it holds superiority wherever it grows; it is a sacred plant, my friends, its name is LIBERTY, and may God grant that that plant may continue to grow in the United States of America, and never be rooted out so long as it shall please Him to continue the celestial orb to roll in yon azure expanse.
Ah! Britons! Britons! had your counsellors been just, and had they listened with attention, and followed the advice of the immortal William Pitt[K], Britain and America might have been one until the present hour; and they, united, in time might have given laws to the inhabitants of this terrestrial ball.
Many of you, my friends, have voluntarily embraced this loathsome prison rather than betray your country; for by the laws of your country, to aid or give any assistance to an enemy, is treason, is punishable with death. I hope, therefore, that your country will reward you abundantly for your toil. And one and all, let us embrace the icy arms of death, rather than cherish the least symptoms of an inclination to betray our country. Some have done it, who have pretended to be Americans, so far as to shield themselves under the name.—Whether they were real Americans or not, it is hard for me to say; but if they were, they have put their hand to the plough, and not only looked back, but have gone back. I have not the least doubt but they will meet their reward; that is, they will be spurned at by those very people that laid the bait for them. Such characters will forever be condemned, and held in detestation by both parties. Therefore all you who feel the tide of true American blood flow through your hearts, I hope never will attempt to flee from the allegiance of your country. It is cowardice, it is felony; and for all those who have done it, we may pray that the departed spirits of their fathers, who so nobly fought, bled, and fell in the conflict to gain them their liberty, will haunt them in their midnight slumbers, and that they may feel the horrors of conscience and the dread of a gallows! Also, that they may have no rest, but like the dove that Noah sent out of the ark, be restless until they return to the allegiance of their country.—And now, my countrymen, let us join in unison to correct our own morals; let us be vigilant over ourselves while in this situation. And although it is not in our power to assist our countrymen in the present conflict, yet if we are good the power of Heaven will fight for us; for the good must merit God's peculiar care. The powers of Heaven fought for us; they assisted us to gain our liberty, it is evident from the very circumstance, that in our struggle with Great Britain for our liberty, we had no navy, or none of any consequence, yet Great Britain lost more line of battle ships in that war than she did with France, although France is a great naval power. And we should be thankful to God for all the blessings he hath bestowed upon us from time to time, and in particular for the blessings of that unity which we are recently informed prevails among our countrymen in America; united they stand, nor will the powers of hell be able to overthrow them. And now let us appeal to the God of Sabaoth, that is, to the God of armies—let us appeal to Him who holds the balance, and weighs the events of battles and of realms, and by his decision we must abide. And may He grant us health, peace and unity in this our disagreeable situation; and let us all join in concord to praise the Ruler and Governor of the universe. Amen. Amen.
Among the songs sung on this occasion, were several composed by seafaring people, in our own country. The following drew tears from the eyes of our generous hearted sailors. It pathetically describes what many of them had experienced, the impressment of an American sailor boy, by a British man of war, the tearing up of his legal protection, and of his sinking under a broken heart. It was written by Mr. John De Wolfe, of Rhode Island.
The Impressment of an American Sailor Boy.
A SONG,
Sung on board the British prison ship Crown Prince, the Fourth of July, 1813, by a number of the American prisoners.
The youthful Sailor mounts the bark,
And bids each weeping friend adieu;
Fair blows the gale, the canvass swells;
Slow sinks the uplands from his view.
Three mornings, from his ocean bed,
Resplendent beams the God of day;
The fourth, high looming in the mist,
A war-ship's floating banners play.