Scene I. At Montreal.

General Prescot and Officer.

General Prescot.

So it seems indeed, one misfortune seldom comes alone.—The rebels, after the taking of Ticonderoga and Chamblee, as I just now learn by a Savage, marched immediately to besiege St. John's, and are now before that place, closely investing it, and no doubt intend paying us a visit soon.

Officer. Say you so? then 'tis time to look about us.

Gen. Prescot. They'll find us prepar'd, I'll warrant 'em, to give 'em such a reception as they little dream of—a parcel of Yankee dogs.

Officer. Their success, no doubt, has elated them, and given 'em hopes of conquering all Canada soon, if that's their intent.

Gen. Prescot. No doubt it is—but I'll check their career a little.——

Enter Scouting Officer, with Colonel Allen, and other prisoners.

Scouting Officer. Sir, I make bold to present you with a few prisoners—they are a scouting detachment from the army besieging St. John's.

Gen. Prescot. Prisoners? Rebels, I suppose, and scarcely worth hanging.

Col. Allen. Sir, you suppose wrong—you mean scarcely worth your while to attempt.

Gen. Prescot. Pray, who are you, sir?

Col. Allen. A man, sir, and who had the honour, till now, to command those brave men, whom you call rebels.

Gen. Prescot. What is your name? If I may be so bold?

Col. Allen. Allen.

Gen. Prescot. Allen?

Col. Allen. Yes, Allen.

Gen. Prescot. Are you that Allen, that Colonel Allen (as they call him) that dar'd to take Ticonderoga?

Col. Allen. The same—the very man.

Gen. Prescot. Then rebels you are, and as such I shall treat you, for daring to oppose Lord Paramount's troops, and the laws of the land.

Col. Allen. Prisoners we are, 'tis true—but we despise the name of a rebel—With more propriety that name is applicable to your master—'tis he who attempts to destroy the laws of the land, not us—we mean to support them, and defend our property against Paramount's and parliamentary tyranny.

Gen. Prescot. To answer you were a poorness of spirit I despise; when rebels dare accuse, power that replies, forgets to punish; I am not to argue that point with you: And let me tell you, sir, whoever you are, it now ill becomes you thus to talk—You're my prisoner—your life is in my hands, and you shall suffer immediately—Guards! take them away.

Col. Allen. Cruel insult!—pardon these brave men!—what they have done has been by my orders—I am the only guilty person (if guilt there be), let me alone suffer for them all. [Opening his breast.] Here! take your revenge—Why do you hesitate?—Will you not strike a breast that ne'er will flinch from your pointed bayonet?

Gen. Prescot. Provoke me not—Remember you're my prisoners.

Col. Allen. Our souls are free!—Strike, cowards, strike!—I scorn to beg my life.

Gen. Prescot. Guards! away with them—I'll reserve you for a more ignominious death—your fate is fix'd—away with them.

Col. Allen. [Going off.] Be glutted, ye thirsters after human blood—Come, see me suffer—mark my eye, and scorn me, if my expiring soul confesses fear—Come, see and be taught virtue, and to die as a patriot for the wrongs of my country.

[Exeunt Prisoners and Guards.

Scene II. A Dungeon.

Col. Allen. What! ye infernal monsters! murder us in the dark?—What place is this?—Who reigns king of these gloomy mansions?—You might favour us at least with one spark of light—Ye cannot see to do your business here.

Officer. 'Tis our orders.

Col. Allen. Ye dear, ye brave, wretched friends!—now would I die for ye all—ye share a death I wou'd gladly excuse you from—'Tis not death I fear—this is only bodily death—but to die noteless in the silent dark, is to die scorn'd, and shame our suff'ring country—we fall undignify'd by villains' hands—a sacrifice to Britain's outcast blood-hounds—This, this shakes the soul!—Come then, ye murderers, since it must be so—do your business speedily—Farewell, my friends! to die with you is now my noblest claim since to die for you was a choice deny'd—What are ye about?—Stand off, ye wretches!

Officer. I am order'd to lay you in irons. [They seize him.] You must submit.

Col. Allen. What, do you mean to torture us to death with chains, racks and gibbets? rather despatch us immediately—Ye executioners, ye inquisitors, does this cruelty proceed from the lenity I shewed to the prisoners I took?—Did it offend you that I treated them with friendship, generosity, honour and humanity?—If it did, our suff'rings will redound more to our honour, and our fall be the more glorious—But remember, this fall will prove your own one day—Wretches! I fear you not, do your worst; and while I here lay suff'ring and chain'd on my back to the damp floor, I'll yet pray for your conversion.

Officer. Excuse us, we have only obey'd our order.

Col. Allen. Then I forgive you; but pray execute them.

[Exeunt Guards.

Scene III. In the Camp at Cambridge.

General Washington, General Lee, and General Putnam.

General Washington.

Our accounts from the Northward, so far, are very favourable; Ticonderoga, Chamblee, St. John's and Montreal our troops are already in possession of—and Colonel Arnold, having penetrated Canada, after suff'ring much thro' cold, fatigue and want of provisions, is now before Quebec, and General Montgomery, I understand, is in full march to join him; see these letters.

[They read.

Gen. Lee. The brave, the intrepid Arnold, with his handful of fearless troops, have dar'd beyond the strength of mortals—Their courage smil'd at doubts, and resolutely march'd on, clamb'ring (to all but themselves) insurmountable precipices, whose tops, covered with ice and snow, lay hid in the clouds, and dragging baggage, provisions, ammunition and artillery along with them, by main strength, in the dead of winter, over such stupendous and amazing heights, seems almost unparallelled in history!—'Tis true, Hannibal's march over the Alps comes the nearest to it—it was a surprising undertaking, but when compar'd to this, appears but as a party of pleasure, an agreeable walk, a sabbath day's journey.

Gen. Putnam. Posterity will stand amazed, and be astonish'd at the heroes of this new world, that the spirit of patriotism should blaze to such a height, and eclipse all others, should outbrave fatigue, danger, pain, peril, famine and even death itself, to serve their country; that they should march, at this inclement season, thro' long and dreary deserts, thro' the remotest wilds, covered with swamps and standing lakes, beset with trees, bushes and briars, impervious to the cheering rays of the sun, where are no traces or vestiges of human footsteps, wild, untrodden paths, that strike terror into the fiercest of the brute creation.

Gen. Lee. Let Britons do the like—no—they dare not attempt it—let 'em call forth the Hanoverian, the Hessian, the hardy Ruffian, or, if they will, the wild Cossacks and Kalmucks of Tartary, and they would tremble at the thought! And who but Americans dare undertake it? The wond'ring moon and stars stood aloof, and turn'd pale at the sight!

Gen. Washington. I rejoice to hear the Canadians received them kindly, after their fatigue furnish'd them with the necessaries of life, and otherways treated them very humanely—And the savages, whose hair stood on end, and look'd and listen'd with horror and astonishment at the relation of the fatigues and perils they underwent, commiserated them, and afforded all the succour in their power.

Gen. Lee. The friendship of the Canadians and Savages, or even their neutrality alone, are favourable circumstances that cannot fail to hearten our men; and the junction of General Montgomery will inspire 'em with fresh ardour.

Gen. Putnam. Heavens prosper 'em!

Enter Officer and Express.

Officer. Sir, here's an Express.

Express. I have letters to your Excellency.

Gen. Washington. From whence?

Express. From Canada, sir.

Gen. Washington. From the army?

Express. From the headquarters, sir.

Gen. Washington. I hope matters go well there.—Had General Montgomery join'd Colonel Arnold when you left it?

Express. He had, sir—these letters are from both those gentlemen.

[Gives him the letters.

Gen. Washington. Very well. You may now withdraw and refresh yourself, unless you've further to say—I'll dispatch you shortly.

Express. Nothing further, sir.

[Exeunt Officer and Express.

Gen. Washington. [Opens and reads the letter to Generals Lee and Putnam.] I am well pleased with their contents—all but the behaviour of the haughty Carleton—to fire upon a flag of truce, hitherto unprecedented, even amongst Savages or Algerines—his cruelty to the prisoners is cowardly, and personal ill treatment of General Montgomery is unbecoming a General—a soldier—and beneath a Gentleman—and leaves an indelible mark of brutality—I hope General Montgomery, however, will not follow his example.

Gen. Lee. I hope so too, sir—if it can be avoided; it's a disgrace to the soldier, and a scandal to the Gentleman—so long as I've been a soldier, my experience has not furnish'd me with a like instance.

Gen. Putnam. I see no reason why he shou'dn't be paid in his own coin.—If a man bruises my heel, I'll break his head—I cannot see the reason or propriety of bearing with their insults—does he not know it's in our power to retaliate fourfold?

Gen. Lee. Let's be good natur'd, General—let us see a little more of it first——

Gen. Putnam. I think we have seen enough of it already for this twelve-months past. Methinks the behaviour of Lord Boston, the ill treatment of poor Allen, to be thrown into a loathsome dungeon like a murderer, be loaded with irons, and transported like a convict, would sufficiently rouse us to a just retaliation—that imperious red coat, Carleton, should be taught good manners—I hope to see him ere long in our College at Cambridge——

Gen. Lee. I doubt; he'll be too cunning, and play truant—he has no notion of learning American manners; ev'ry dog must have his day (as the saying is); it may be our time by and by—the event of war is uncertain——

Gen. Putnam. Very true, sir; but don't let us be laugh'd at forever.

Enter an Officer in haste.

Officer. Sir, a messenger this moment from Quebec waits to be admitted.

Gen. Washington. Let him enter.

[Exit Officer.

Enter Messenger.

Gen. Washington. What news bring you?

Messenger. I am sorry, sir, to be the bearer of an unpleasing tale——

Gen. Washington. Bad news have you?—have you letters?

Messenger. None, sir—I came off at a moment's warning—my message is verbal.

Gen. Washington. Then relate what you know.

Messenger. After the arrival and junction of General Montgomery's troops with Colonel Arnold's, Carleton was summoned to surrender; he disdaining any answer, fir'd on the flag of truce——

Gen. Washington. That we have heard—go on.

Messenger. The General finding no breach could be effected in any reasonable time, their walls being vastly strong, and his cannon rather light, determined to attempt it by storm—The enemy were apprized of it—however, he passed the first barrier, and was attempting the second, where he was unfortunately killed, with several other brave officers——

Gen. Washington. Is General Montgomery killed?

Messenger. He is certainly, sir.

Gen. Washington. I am sorry for it—a brave man—I could wish him a better fate!——

Gen. Lee. I lament the loss of him—a resolute soldier——

Gen. Putnam. Pity such bravery should prove unsuccessful, such merit unrewarded;—but the irreversible decree of Providence!—who can gainsay?—we may lament the loss of a friend, but 'tis irreligious to murmur at pre-ordination. What happ'ned afterwards?

Messenger. The officer next in command, finding their attacks at that time unsuccessful, retired in good order.

Gen. Washington. What became of Colonel Arnold?

Messenger. Colonel Arnold, at the head of about three hundred and fifty brave troops, and Captain Lamb's company of artillery, having in the mean time passed through St. Rocques, attacked a battery, and carried it, tho' well defended, with the loss of some men—

Gen. Putnam. I hope they proved more successful.

Gen. Lee. Aye, let us hear.

Messenger. The Colonel about this time received a wound in his leg, and was obliged to crawl as well as he cou'd to the hospital, thro' the fire of the enemy, and within fifty yards of the walls, but, thro' Providence, escap'd any further damage.——

Gen. Putnam. Aye, providential indeed!

Gen. Washington. Is he dangerously wounded?

Messenger. I am told not, sir.

Gen. Washington. I am glad of it.—What follow'd?

Messenger. His brave troops pushed on to the second barrier, and took possession of it.

Gen. Washington. Very good—proceed.

Messenger. A party of the enemy then sallying out from the palace-gate, attacked them in the rear, whom they fought with incredible bravery for three hours, and deeds of eternal fame were done; but being surrounded on all sides, and overpowered by numbers, were at last obliged to submit themselves as prisoners of war.

Gen. Putnam. Heav'ns! could any thing prove more unlucky? such brave fellows deserve better treatment than they'll get (I'm afraid) from the inhuman Carleton.

Gen. Lee. Such is the fortune of war, and the vicissitudes attending a military life; to-day conquerors, to-morrow prisoners.

Gen. Washington. He dares not treat them ill—only as prisoners. Did you learn how those brave fellows were treated?

Messenger. It was currently reported in the camp they were treated very humanely.

Gen. Washington. A change for the better.

Gen. Putnam. Produc'd by fear, no doubt from General Montgomery's letter—but no matter from what cause.

Gen. Lee. How far did the remainder of the army retire?

Messenger. About two miles from the city, where they are posted very advantageously, continuing the blockade, and waiting for reinforcements.

Gen. Lee. Did the enemy shew any peculiar marks of distinction to the corpse of General Montgomery?

Messenger. He was interred in Quebec, with ev'ry possible mark of distinction.

Gen. Washington. What day did the affair happen on?

Messenger. On the last day of the year.

Gen. Washington. A remarkable day! When was the General interred?

Messenger. The second of January.

Gen. Lee. What number of men in the whole attack was killed? did you learn?

Messenger. About sixty killed and wounded.

Gen. Washington. Have you any thing further to communicate?

Messenger. Nothing, sir, but to inform you they are all in good spirits, and desire reinforcements, and heavy artillery may be sent them as soon as possible.

Gen. Washington. That be our business—with all despatch. You may for the present withdraw. Serjeant!

Enter Serjeant.

Serjeant. I wait your order, sir.

Gen. Washington. See that the Messenger and his horse want for nothing.

Serjeant. I shall, sir.

[Exeunt Serjeant and Messenger.

Scene IV.

Gen. Washington. I'll despatch an Express to the Congress. This repulse, if I mistake not (or victory, as Carleton may call it), will stand 'em but in little stead—'t will be only a temporary reprieve—we'll reinforce our friends, let the consequence be what it may—Quebec must fall, and the lofty strong walls and brazen gates (the shield of cowards) must tumble by an artificial earthquake; should they continue in their obstinacy, we'll arm our friends with missive thunders in their hands, and stream death on them swifter than the winds.

Gen. Lee. I lament the loss of the valiant Montgomery and his brave officers and soldiers (at this time more especially) 'tis the fortune of war, 'tis unavoidable; yet, I doubt not, out of their ashes will arise new heroes.

Gen. Putnam. Who can die a more glorious, a more honourable death than in their country's cause?—let it redouble our ardour, and kindle a noble emulation in our breasts—let each American be determined to conquer or die in a righteous cause.

Gen. Washington. I have drawn my sword, and never will I sheathe it, till America is free, or I'm no more.

Gen. Lee. Peace is despaired of, and who can think of submission? The last petition from the Congress, like the former, has been disregarded; they prayed but for liberty, peace and safety, and their omnipotent authoritative supreme-ships will grant them neither: War, then, war open and understood, must be resolved on; this, this will humble their pride, will bring their tyrant noses to the ground, teach 'em humility, and force them to hearken to reason when 'tis too late. My noble General, I join you. [Drawing his sword.] I'll away with the scabbard, and sheathe my sword in the bosom of tyranny.

Gen. Putnam. Have you not read the speech, where frowning revenge and sounds of awful dread for disgrace at Lexington and loss at Bunker's Hill echo forth? Not smiling peace, or pity, tame his sullen soul; but, Pharaoh-like, on the wings of tyranny he rides and forfeits happiness to feast revenge, till the waters of the red sea of blood deluge the tyrant, with his mixed host of vile cut-throats, murderers, and bloody butchers.

Gen. Washington. Yet, finding they cannot conquer us, gladly would they make it up by a voluntary free-will offering of a million of money in bribes, rather than be obliged to relish the thoughts of sacrificing their cursed pride and false honour, they sending over to amuse us (to put us off our guard) a score or two of commissioners with sham negotiations in great state, to endeavour to effect, by bribery, deception and chicanery, what they cannot accomplish by force. Perish such wretches!—detested be their schemes!—Perish such monsters!—a reproach to human understanding—their vaunted boasts and threats will vanish like smoke, and be no more than like snow falling on the moist ground, melt in silence, and waste away—Blasted, forever blasted be the hand of the villainous traitor that receives their gold upon such terms—may he become leprous, like Naaman, the Syrian, yea, rather like Gehazi, the servant of Elisha, that it may stick to him for ever.

Gen. Putnam. I join you both, and swear by all the heroes of New-England, that this arm, tho' fourscore and four [Drawing his sword.], still nervous and strong, shall wield this sword to the last in the support of liberty and my country, revenge the insult offer'd to the immortal Montgomery, and brutal treatment of the brave Allen.

[Exeunt.