For four or five days, after I reached London, I did very little more than walk about the city, viewing such curiosities as met my eye; when, reflecting that remaining thus idle, I should not only be very soon out of funds, but should run the risk of being suspected and apprehended as one belonging to oneof the numerous gangs of pick-pockets &c. which infest the streets of the city; I applied to an Intelligence Office for a coachman’s berth, which I was so fortunate as to procure, at 15 shillings per week—my employer (J. Hyslop, Esq.) although rigid in his exactions, was punctual in his payments, and by my strict prudence and abstinence from the numerous diversions of the city, I was enabled in the six months which I served him, to lay up more cash than what I had earned the twelve months preceding. The next business in which I engaged was that of brick making, and which together with that of gardening, I pursued in the summer seasons almost exclusively for five years; in all which time I was not once suspected of being an American, yet, I must confess that my feelings were not unfrequently most powerfully wrought upon, by hearing my countrymen dubbed with cowardice, and by those too who had been thrice flogged or frightened by them when attempting to ascend the heights of Bunker Hill! and to be obliged to brook these insults with impunity, as to have resented them would have caused me to have been suspected directly of being attached to the American cause, which might have been attended with serious consequences.I should now pass over the five years that I was employed as above mentioned, as checquered by few incidents worth relating, was it not for one or two circumstances of some little importance thateither attended me, or came within my own personal knowledge. The reader has undoubtedly heard that the city of London and its suburbs, is always more or less infested with gangs of nefarious wretches, who come under the denomination of Robbers, Pickpockets, Shoplifters, Swindlers, Beggars, &c. who are constantly prowling the streets in disguise, seeking opportunities to surprise and depredate on the weak and unguarded—of these the former class form no inconsiderable portion, who contrive to elude and set at defiance the utmost vigilance of government—they are a class who in the day time disperse each to his avocation, as the better to blind the scrutinizing eye of justice, they make it a principle to follow some laborious profession, and at night assemble to proceed on their nocturnal rounds, in quest of those whose well stored pockets promise them a reward, equal to the risk which they run in obtaining it. As I was one evening passing through Hyde Park, with five guineas and a few pennies in my pockets, I was stopped by six of these lawless footpads; who, presenting pistols to my breast, demanded my money—fortunately for me I had previously deposited the guineas in a private pocket of my pantaloons, for their better security; thrusting their hands into my other pockets and finding me in possession of but a few English pennies, they took them and decamped. I hastened to Bow Street and lodged information of the robbery with the officers, and who to my no little surprise informed me thatmine was the fifth instance, of information of similar robberies by the same gang, which had been lodged with them that evening!—runners had been sent in every direction in pursuit of them, but with what success I could never learn.Despairing of meeting with a favourable opportunity to return to America, until the conclusion of peace, and the prospects of a continuation of the war being as great then (by what I could learn) as at any period from its commencement, I became more reconciled to my situation, and contracted an intimacy with a young woman whose parents were poor but respectable, and who I soon after married. I took a small ready furnished chamber, in Red Cross Street, where with the fruits of my hard earnings, I was enabled to live tolerable comfortable for three or four years—when, by sickness and other unavoidable circumstances, I was doomed to endure miseries uncommon to human nature.In the winter of 1781, news was received in London of the surrender of the army of Lord Cornwallis, to the French and American forces!—the receipt of news of an event so unexpected operated on the British ministers and members of Parliament, like a tremendous clap of thunder—deep sorrow was evidently depicted in the countenances of those who had been the most strenuous advocates for the war—never was there a time in which I longed more to exult, and to declare myself a true blooded yankee—and what was still more pleasingto me, was to find myself even surpassed inexpressionsof joy and satisfaction, by my wife, in consequence of the receipt of news, which, while it went to establish the military fame of my countrymen, was so calculated to humble the pride of her own! greater proofs of her regard for me and my country I could not require.The ministerial party in Parliament who had been the instigators of the war, and who believed that even a view of the bright glistening muskets and bayonets of John Bull, would frighten the leather apron Yankees to a speedy submission, began now to harbour a more favourable opinion of the courage of the latter. His Majesty repaired immediately to the house of peers, and opened the sessions of parliament—warm debates took place, on account of the ruinous manner in which the American war was continued; but Lord North and his party appeared yet unwilling to give up the contest. The capitulation of Cornwallis had however one good effect, as it produced the immediate release of Mr. Laurens from the Tower, and although it did not put an immediate end to the war, yet all hopes of conquering America from that moment appeared to be given up by all except North and his adherents.There was no one engaged in the cause of America, that did more to establish her fame in England, and to satisfy the high boasting Britains of the bravery and unconquerable resolutions of the Yankees,than that bold adventurer capt. Paul Jones; who, for ten or eleven months kept all the western coast of the island in alarm—he boldly landed at Whitehaven, where he burnt a ship in the harbour, and even attempted to burn the town;—nor was this to my knowledge the only instance in which the Britains were threatened with a very serious conflagration, by the instigation of their enemies abroad—a daring attempt was made by one James Aitkin, commonly known in London by the name of John the Painter, to set fire to the royal dock and shipping at Portsmouth, and would probably have succeeded, had he not imprudently communicated his intentions to one, who, for the sake of a few guineas, shamefully betrayed him—poor Aitkin was immediately seized, tried, condemned, executed and hung in chains—every means was used to extort from him a confession by whom he had been employed, but without any success—it was however strongly suspected that he had been employed by the French, as it was about the time that they openly declared themselves in favour of the Americans.With regard to Mr. Laurens, I ought to have mentioned that as soon as I heard of his capture on his passage to Holland, and of his confinement in the Tower, I applied for and obtained permission to visit him in his apartment, and (with some distant hopes that he might point out some way in which I might be enabled to return to America) I stated to him every particular as regarded my situation.He seemed not only to lament very much my hard fortune, but (to use his own words) “that America should be deprived of the services of such men, at the important period too when she most required them.”—He informed me that he was himself held a prisoner, and knew not when or on what conditions he would be liberated, but should he thereafter be in a situation to assist me in obtaining a passage to America, he should consider it a duty which he owed his country to do it.Although I succeeded in obtaining by my industry a tolerable living for myself and family, yet, so far from becoming reconciled to my situation, I was impatient for the return of Peace, when (as I then flattered myself) I should once more have an opportunity to return to my native country. I became every day less attached to a country where I could not meet with any thing (with the exception of my little family) that could compensate me for the loss of the pleasing society of my kindred and friends in America—born among a moral and humane people, and having in my early days contracted their habits, and a considerable number of their prejudices, it would be unnatural to suppose that I should not prefer their society, to either that of rogues, thieves, pimps and vagabonds, or of a more honest but an exceedingly oppressed and forlorn people.I found London as it had been represented to me, a large and magnificent city, filled with inhabitants of almost every description and occupation—andsuch an one indeed as might be pleasing to an Englishman, delighting in tumult and confusion, and accustomed to witness scenes of riot and dissipation, as well as those of human infliction; and for the sake of variety, would be willing to imprison himself within the walls of a Bedlam, where continual noise would deafen him, where the unwholesomeness of the air would effect his lungs, and where the closeness of the surrounding buildings would not permit him to enjoy the enlivening influence of the sun! There is not perhaps another city of its size in the whole world, the streets of which display a greater contrast in the wealth and misery, the honesty and knavery, of its inhabitants, than the city of London. The eyes of the passing stranger (unaccustomed to witness such scenes) is at one moment dazzled by the appearance of pompous wealth, with its splendid equippage—at the next he is solicited by one apparently of the most wretched of human beings, to impart a single penny for the relief of his starving family! Among the latter class, there are many; however, who so far from being the real objects of charity that they represent themselves to be, actually possess more wealth than those who sometimes benevolently bestow it—these vile imposters, by every species of deception that was ever devised or practiced by man, aim to excite the pity and compassion, and to extort charity from those unacquainted with their easy circumstances—they possess the faculty of assuming any character that may best suit their purpose—sometimeshobbling with a crutch and exhibiting a wooden leg—at other times “an honourable scar of a wound, received in Egypt, at Waterloo or at Trafalgar, fighting for their most gracious sovereign and master King George!”Independent of these there is another species of beggars (the gypsies) who form a distinct clan, and will associate with none but those of their own tribe—they are notorious thieves as well as beggars, and constantly infest the streets of London to the great annoyance of strangers and those who have the appearance of being wealthy—they have no particular home or abiding place, but encamp about in open fields or under hedges, as occasion requires—they are generally of a yellow complexion, and converse in a dialect peculiar only to themselves—their thieving propensities do not unfrequently lead them to kidnap little children, whenever an opportunity presents; having first by a dye changed their complexion to one that corresponds with their own, they represent them as their own offspring, and carry them about half naked on their backs to excite the pity and compassion of those of whom they beg charity. An instance of this species of theft by a party of these unprincipled vagabonds, occurred once in my neighbourhood while an inhabitant of London—the little girl kidnapped was the daughter of a Capt. Kellem of Coventry Street—being sent abroad on some business for her parents, she was met by a gang of Gypsies, consisting of five men and six women, who seizedher, and forcibly carried her away to their camp, in the country, at a considerable distance, having first stripped her of her own cloathes, and in exchange dressed her in some of their rags—thus garbed she travelled about the country with them for nearly 7 months, and was treated as the most abject slave, and her life threatened if she should endeavour to escape or divulged her story;—she stated that during the time she was with them they entrapped a little boy about her own age, whom they also stripped and carried with them, but took particular care he should never converse with her, treating him in the like savage manner; she said that they generally travelled by cross roads and private ways, ever keeping a watchful eye that she might not escape, and that no opportunity offered until when, by some accident, they were obliged to send her from their camp to a neighbouring farm house, in order to procure a light, which she took advantage of; and scrambling over hedges and ditches, as she supposed for the distance of 8 or 9 miles, reached London worn out with fatigue and hunger, her support with them being always scanty, and of the worst sort; to which was added the misery of sleeping under hedges, and exposure to the inclemency of the weather—it was the intention of the gypsies she said to have coloured her and the boy when the walnut season approached.The streets of London and its suburbs are also infested with another and a still more dreadful species of rogues, denominated Footpads, and who oftenmurder in the most inhuman manner, for the sake of only a few shillings, any unfortunate people who happen to fall in their way—of this I was made acquainted with enumerable instances, while an inhabitant of London; I shall however mention but two that I have now recollection of:—A Mr. Wylde while passing through Marlborough Street, in a chaise, was stopped by a footpad, who, on demanding his money, received a few shillings, but being dissatisfied with the little booty he obtained, still kept a pistol at Mr. Wylde’s head, and on the latter’s attempting gently to turn it aside, the villain fired, and lodged seven slugs in his head and breast, which caused instant death—Mr. W. expired in the arms of his son and grandson without a groan. A few days after as a Mr. Greenhill was passing through York-Street in a single horse chaise, he was met and stopped by three footpads, armed with pistols, one of them seized and held the horse’s head, while the other two most inhumanely dragged Mr. G. over the back of his chaise, and after robbing him of his notes, watch and hat gave him two severe cuts on his head and left him in that deplorable state in the road.—The above are but two instances of hundreds of a similar nature, which yearly occur in the most public streets of the city of London. The city is infested with a still higher order of rogues, denominated pick-pockets or cutpurses, who to carry on their nefarious practices, garb themselves like gentlemen, and introduce themselves into the most fashionable circles;many of them indeed are persons who once sustained respectable characters, but who, by extravagance and excesses, have reduced themselves to want and find themselves obliged at last to have recourse to pilfering and thieving.Thus have I endeavoured to furnish the reader with the particulars of a few of the vices peculiar to a large portion of the inhabitants of the city of London—to these might be added a thousand other misdemeanors of a less criminal nature, daily practiced by striplings from the age of six, to the hoary headed of ninety!—this I assure my readers is a picture correctly delineated and not too highly wrought of a city famous for its magnificence, and where I was doomed to spend more than 40 years of my life, and in which time pen, ink, and paper would fail, were I to attempt to record the various instances of misery and want that attended me and my poor devoted family.In September 1783, the glorious news of a definitive treaty of Peace having been signed between the United States and Great-Britain, was publicly announced in London—while on the minds of those who had been made rich by the war, the unwelcomed news operated apparently like a paralytic stroke, a host of those whose views had been inimical to the cause of America, and had sought refuge in England, attempted to disguise their disappointment and dejection under a veil of assumed cheerfulness. As regarded myself, I can only say, that had an event so long and ardently wished for by me taken place buta few months before, I should have hailed it as the epoch of my deliverance from a state of oppression and privation that I had already too long endured.An opportunity indeed now presented for me to return once more to my native country, after so long an absence, had I possessed the means; but much was the high price demanded for a passage, and such had been my low wages, and the expenses attending the support of even a small family in London, that I found myself at this time in possession of funds hardly sufficient to defray the expense of my own passage, and much less that of my wife and child—hence the only choice left me was either to desert them, and thereby subject them (far separated from one) to the frowns of an uncharitable people, or to content myself to remain with them and partake of a portion of that wretchedness which even my presence could not avert. When the affairs of the American Government had become so far regulated as to support a Consul at the British court, I might indeed have availed myself individually, of the opportunity which presented of procuring a passage home at the Government’s expence; but as this was a privilege that could not be extended to my wife and child, my regard for them prevented my embracing the only means provided by my country for the return of her captured soldiers and seamen.To make the best of my hard fortune, I became as resigned and reconciled to my situation as circumstanceswould admit of; flattering myself that fortune might at some unexpected moment so far decide in my favour, as to enable me to accomplish my wishes—I indeed bore my afflictions with a degree of fortitude which I could hardly have believed myself possessed of—I had become an expert workman at brick making at which business and at gardening, I continued to work for very small wages, for three or four years after the Peace—but still found my prospects of a speedy return to my country, by no ways flattering. The peace had thrown thousands who had taken an active part in the war, out of employ; London was thronged with them—who, in preference to starving, required no other consideration for their labour than a humble living, which had a lamentable effect in reducing the wages of the labouring class of people; who, previous to this event were many of them so extremely poor, as to be scarcely able to procure the necessaries of life for their impoverished families—among this class I must rank myself, and from this period ought I to date the commencement of my greatest miseries, which never failed to attend me in a greater or less degree until that happy moment, when favoured by providence, I was permitted once more to visit the peaceful shores of the land of my nativity.When I first entered the city of London, I was almost stunned, while my curiosity was not a little excited by what is termed the “cries of London”—thestreets were thronged by persons of both sexes and of every age, crying each the various articles which they were exposing for sale, or for jobs of work at their various occupations;—I little then thought that this was a mode which I should be obliged myself to adopt to obtain a scanty pittance for my needy family—but, such indeed proved to be the case. The great increase of labourers produced by the cessation of hostilities, had so great an effect in the reduction of wages, that the trifling consideration now allowed me by my employers for my services, in the line of business in which I had been several years engaged, was no longer an object, being insufficient to enable me to procure a humble sustenance. Having in vain sought for more profitable business, I was induced to apply to an acquaintance for instruction in the art of chair bottoming, and which I partially obtained from him for a trifling consideration.It was now (which was in the year 1789) that I assumed a line of business very different from that in which I had ever before been engaged—fortunately for me, I possessed strong lungs, which I found very necessary in an employment the success of which depended, in a great measure, in being enabled to drown the voices of others (engaged in the same occupation) by my own—“Old Chairs to Mend,” became now my constant cry through the streets of London, from morning to night; and although I found my business not so profitable as Icould have wished, yet it yielded a tolerable support for my family some time, and probably would have continued so to have done, had not the almost constant illness of my children, rendered the expenses of my family much greater than they otherwise would have been—thus afflicted by additional cares and expense, (although I did every thing in my power to avoid it) I was obliged, to alleviate the sufferings of my family, to contract some trifling debts which it was not in my power to discharge.I now became the victim of additional miseries—I was visited by a bailiff employed by a creditor, who seizing me with the claws of a tiger, dragged me from my poor afflicted family and inhumanly thurst me into prison! indeed no misery that I ever before endured equalled this—separated from those dependent on me for the necessaries of life, and placed in a situation in which it was impossible for me to afford them any relief!—fortunately for me at this melancholly moment, my wife enjoyed good health, and it was to her praise-worthy exertions that her poor helpless children, as well as myself, owed our preservation from a state of starvation!—this good woman had become acquainted with many who had been my customers, whom she made acquainted with my situation, and the sufferings of my family, and who had the humanity to furnish me with work during my confinement—the chairs were conveyed to and from the prison by my wife—in this way I was enabled to support myself and tocontribute something to the relief of my afflicted family. I had in vain represented to my unfeeling creditor my inability to satisfy his demands, and in vain represented to him the suffering condition of those wholly dependent on me; unfortunately for me, he proved to be one of those human beasts, who, having no soul, take pleasure in tormenting that of others, who never feel but in their own misfortunes, and never rejoice but in the afflictions of others—of such beings, so disgraceful to human nature, I assure the reader London contains not an inconsiderable number.After having for four months languished in a horrid prison, I was liberated therefrom a mere skeleton; the mind afflicted had tortured the body; so much is the one in subjection to the other—I returned sorrowful and dejected to my afflicted family whom I found in very little better condition. We now from necessity took up our abode in an obscure situation near Moorfields; where, by my constant application to business, I succeeded in earning daily a humble pittance for my family, bearly sufficient however to satisfy the cravings of nature; and to add to my afflictions, some one of my family were almost constantly indisposed.However wretched my situation there were many others at this period, with whom I was particularly acquainted, whose sufferings were greater if possible than my own; and whom want and misery drove to the commission of crimes, that in any other situationthey would probably not have been guilty of. Such was the case of the unfortunate Bellamy, who was capitally convicted and executed for a crime which distresses in his family, almost unexampled, had in a moment of despair, compelled him to commit. He was one who had seen better days, was once a commissioned officer in the army, but being unfortunate he was obliged to quit the service to avoid the horrors of a prison, and was thrown on the world, without a single penny or a single friend. The distresses of his family were such, that they were obliged to live for a considerable time deprived of all sustenance except what they could derive from scanty and precarious meals of potatoes and milk—in this situation his unfortunate wife was confined in child bed—lodging in an obscure garret, she was destitute of every species of those conveniences almost indespensable with females in her condition, being herself without clothes, and to procure a covering for her new born infant, all their resources were exhausted. In this situation his wife and children must inevitably have starved, were it not for the loan of five shillings which he walked from London to Blackheath to borrow. At his trial he made a solemn appeal to heaven, as to the truth of every particular as above stated—and that so far from wishing to exaggerate a single fact, he had suppressed many more instances of calamity scarcely to be paralleled—that after the disgrace brought upon himself by this single transaction, life could not be a boon hewould be anxious to solicit, but that nature pleaded in his breast for a deserving wife and helpless child—all however was ineffectual, he was condemned and executed pursuant to his sentence.I have yet one or two more melancholly instances of the effects of famine to record, the first of which happened within a mile of my then miserable habitation—a poor widow woman, who had been left destitute with five small children, and who had been driven to the most awful extremities by hunger, overpowered at length by the pitiful cries of her wretched offspring, for a morsel of bread, in a fit of despair, rushed into the shop of a baker in the neighbourhood, and seizing a loaf of bread bore it off to the relief of her starving family, and while in the act of dividing it among them, the baker (who had pursued her) entered and charged her with the theft—the charge she did not deny, but plead the starving condition of her wretched family in palliation of the crime!—the baker noticing a platter on the table containing a quantity of roasted meat, he pointed to it as a proof that she could not have been driven to such an extremity by hunger—but, his surprise may be better imagined than described, when being requested by the half distracted mother to approach and inspect more closely the contents of the platter, to find it to consist of the remains of a roasted dog! and which she informed him had been her only food, and that of her poor children, for the three preceding days!—the baker struck with so shocking aproof of the poverty and distress of the wretched family, humanely contributed to their relief until they were admitted into the hospital.I was not personally acquainted with the family, but I well knew one who was, and who communicated to me the following melancholly particulars of its wretched situation; and with which I now present my readers, as another proof of the deplorable situation of the poor in England, after the close of the American war:—The minister of a parish was sent for to attend the funeral of a deceased person in his neighbourhood, being conducted to the apartment which contained the corpse (and which was the only one improved by the wretched family) he found it so low as to be unable to stand upright in it—in a dark corner of the room stood a three legged stool, which supported a coffin of rough boards, and which contained the body of the wretched mother, who had the day previous expired in labour for the want of assistance. The father was sitting on a little stool over a few coals of fire, and endeavouring to keep the infant warm in his bosom; five of his seven children, half naked, were asking their father for a piece of bread, while another about three years old was standing over the corpse of his mother, and crying, as he was wont to do, “take me, take me, mammy!”—“Mammy is asleep,” said one of his sisters with tears in her eyes, “mammy is asleep, Johnny, don’t cry, the good nurse has gone to beg you some bread and will soon return!”—In a few minutes after,an old woman, crooked with age, and clothed in tatters came hobbling into the room, with a two-penny loaf in her hand, and after heaving a sigh, calmly set down, and divided the loaf as far as it would go among the poor half famished children: and which she observed was the only food they had tasted for the last 24 hours! By the kind interposition of the worthy divine, a contribution was immediately raised for the relief of this wretched family.I might add many more melancholly instances of the extreme poverty and distress of the wretched poor of London, and with which I was personally acquainted; but the foregoing it is presumed will be sufficient to satisfy the poorest class of inhabitants of America, that, if deprived of the superfluities, so long as they can obtain the necessaries of life, they ought not to murmur, but have reason to thank the Almighty that they were born Americans. That one half the world knows not how the other half lives, is a common and just observation;—complaints and murmurs are frequent I find among those of the inhabitants of this highly favoured country, who are not only blessed with the liberty and means of procuring for themselves and their families, the necessaries and comforts, but even many of the luxuries of life!—they complain of poverty, and yet never knew what it was to be really poor! having never either experienced or witnessed such scenes of distress and woe as I have described, they even suppose their imaginary wants and privations equal to those of almost any of the human race!Let those of my countrymen who thus imagine themselves miserable amid plenty, cross the Atlantic and visit the miserable habitations of real and unaffected woe—if their hearts are not destitute of feeling, they will return satisfied to their own peaceful and happy shores, and pour forth the ejaculations of gratitude to that universal parent, who has given them abundance and exempted them from the thousand ills, under the pressure of which a great portion of his children drag the load of life. Permit me to enquire of such unreasonable murmurers, have you compared your situation and circumstances of which you so much complain, with that of those of your fellow creatures, who are unable to earn by their hard labour even a scanty pittance for their starving families? have you compared your situation and circumstances, with that of those who have hardly ever seen the sun, but live confined in lead mines, stone quarries, and coal pits?—before you call yourselves wretched, take a survey of the gaols in Europe, in which wretched beings who have been driven to the commissions of crimes by starvation, or unfortunate and honest debtors (who have been torn from their impoverished families) are doomed to pine.So far from uttering unreasonable complaints, the hearts of my highly favoured countrymen ought rather to be filled with gratitude to that Being, by whose assistance they have been enabled to avert so many of the miseries of life, so peculiar to a portion of the oppressed of Europe at the present day—andwho after groaning themselves for some time under the yoke of foreign tyranny, succeeded in emancipating themselves from slavery and are now blessed with the sweets of liberty, and the undisturbed enjoyment of their natural rights. Britain, imperious Britain, who once boasted the freedom of her government and the invincible power of her arms—now finds herself reduced to the humiliating necessity of receiving lessons of liberty from those whom till late she despised as slaves!—while our own country on the other hand, like a phoenix from her ashes, having emerged from a long, an expensive and bloody war, and established a constitution upon the broad and immovable basis of national equality, now promises to become the permanent residence of peace, liberty, science, and national felicity.—But, to return to the tale of my own sufferings—While hundreds were daily becoming the wretched victims of hunger and starvation, I was enabled by my industry to obtain a morsel each day for my family; although this morsel, which was to be divided among four, would many times have proved insufficient to have satisfied the hunger of one—I seldom ever failed from morning to night to cry “old chairs to mend,” through the principal streets of the city, but many times with very little success—if I obtained four chairs to rebottom in the course of one day, I considered myself fortunate indeed, but instances of such good luck were very rare; it was more frequent that I did not obtain a single one,and after crying the whole day until I made myself hoarse, I was obliged to return to my poor family at night empty handed.So many at one time engaged in the same business, that had I not resorted to other means my family must inevitably have starved—while crying “old chairs to mend,” I collected all the old rags, bits of paper, nails and broken glass which I could find in the streets, and which I deposited in a bag, which I carried with me for that purpose—these produced me a trifle, and that trifle when other resources failed, procured me a morsel of bread, or a few pounds of potatoes, for my poor wife and children—yet I murmured not as the dispensation of the supreme Arbiter of allotments, which had assigned to me so humbled a line of duty; although I could not have believed once, that I should ever have been brought to such a state of humiliating distress, as would have required such means to alleviate it.In February 1793, War was declared by Great Britain against the republic of France—and although war is a calamity that ought always to be regretted by friends of humanity, as thousands are undoubtedly thereby involved in misery; yet, no event could have happened at that time productive of so much benefit to me, as this—it was the means of draining the country of those who had been once soldiers, and who, thrown out of employ by the peace, demanded a sum so trifling for their services, as to cause a reduction in the wages of the poor labouring class ofpeople, to a sum insufficient to procure the necessaries of life for their families;—this evil was now removed—the old soldiers preferred an employment more in character of themselves, to doing the drudgery of the city—great inducements were held out to them to enlist, and the army was not long retarded in its operations for the want of recruits. My prospects in being enabled to earn something to satisfy the calls of nature, became now more flattering;—the great number that had been employed during the Peace in a business similar to my own, were now reduced to one half, which enabled me to obtain such an extra number of jobs at chair mending that I no longer found it necessary to collect the scrapings of the streets as I had been obliged to do for the many months past. I was now enabled to purchase for my family two or three pounds of fresh meat each week, an article to which (with one or two exceptions) we had been strangers for more than a year—having subsisted principally on potatoes, oat meal bread, and salt fish, and sometimes, but rarely however, were enabled to treat ourselves to a little skim milk.Had not other afflictions attended me, I should not have had much cause to complain of very extraordinary hardships or privations from this period, until the conclusion of the war in 1817;—my family had increased, and to increase my cares there was scarcely a week passed but that some one of them was seriously indisposed—of ten children of which I was the father, I had the misfortune to bury seven under five yearsof age, and two more after they had arrived to the age of twenty—my last and only child now living, it pleased the Almighty to spare to me, to administer help and comfort to his poor afflicted parent, and without whose assistance I should (so far from having been enabled once more to visit the land of my nativity) ’ere this have paid the debt of nature in a foreign land, and that too by a death no less horrible than that of starvation!As my life was unattended with any very extraordinary circumstance (except the one just mentioned) from the commencement of the war, until the re-establishment of monarchy in France, and the cessation of hostilities on the part of Great Britain, in 1817, I shall commence on the narration of my unparalleled sufferings, from the latter period, until that when by the kind interposition of Providence, I was enabled finally to obtain a passage to my native country; and to bid an adieu, and I hope and trust a final one, to that Island, where I had endured a complication of miseries beyond the power of description.The peace produced similar effects to that of 1783—thousands were thrown out of employ and the streets of London thronged with soldiers seeking means to earn a humble subsistence. The cry of “Old Chairs to Mend,” (and that too at a very reduced price) was reiterated through the streets of London by numbers who but the month before were at Waterloo fighting the battles of their country—which, so seriously effected my business in this line, that toobtain food (and that of the most humble kind) for my family, I was obliged once more to have recourse to the collecting of scraps of rags, paper, glass, and such other articles of however trifling value that I could find in the streets.It was at this distressing period, that, in consequence of the impossibility of so great a number who had been discharged from the service procuring a livelihood by honest means, that instances of thefts, and daring robberies, increased throughout Great Britain three fold. Bands of highwaymen and robbers hovered about the vicinity of London in numbers which almost defied suppression; many were taken and executed or transported; but this seemed to render the rest only the more desperately bold and cruel, while house-breaking and assassination were daily perpetrated with new arts and outrages in the very capital. Nor were the starving condition of the honest poor, who were to be met with at all times of day and in every street, seeking something to appease their hunger, less remarkable—unable to procure by any means within their power sustenance sufficient to support nature, some actually became the victims of absolute starvation, as the following melancholly instance will show:—a poor man exhausted by want; dropped down in the street—those who were passing unacquainted with the frequency of such melancholly events, at first thought him intoxicated; but after languishing half an hour, he expired. On the following day, an inquest was heldon the body, and the verdict of the jury not giving satisfaction to the Coroner, they adjourned to the next day.—In the interim, two respectable surgeons were engaged to open the body, in which not a particle of nutriment was to be found except a little yellow substance, supposed to be grass, or some crude vegetable; which the poor man had swallowed to appease the cravings of nature!—this lamentable proof confirmed the opinion of the jury, that he died for want of the necessaries of life, and gave their verdict accordingly.Miserable as was the fate of this man and that of many others, mine was but little better, and would ultimately have been the same, had it not been for the assistance afforded me by my only remaining child, a lad but seven years of age. I had now arrived to an advanced age of life, and although possessing an extraordinary constitution for one of my years, yet by my incessant labours to obtain subsistence for my family, I brought on myself a severe fit of sickness, which confined me three weeks to my chamber; in which time my only sustenance was the produce of a few half pennies, which my poor wife and little son had been able to earn each day by, disposing of matches of their own make, and in collecting and disposing of the articles of small value, of which I have before made mention, which were to be found thinly scattered in the streets. In three weeks it was the will of providence so far to restore to me my strength, as to enable me oncemore to move abroad in search of something to support nature.The tenement which I at this time rented and which was occupied by my family, was a small and wretched apartment of a garret, and for which I had obligated myself to pay sixpence per day, which was to be paid at the close of every week; and in case of failure (agreeable to the laws or customs of the land) my furniture was liable to be seized. In consequence of my illness, and other misfortunes, I fell six weeks in arrears for rent; and having returned one evening with my wife and son, from the performance of our daily task, my kind readers may judge what my feelings must have been to find our room stripped of every article (of however trifling value) that it contained!—alas, oh heavens! to what a state of wretchedness were we now reduced! if there was any thing wanting to complete our misery, this additional drop to the cup of our afflictions, more than sufficed. Although the real value of all that they had taken from me, or rather robbed me of, would not if publicly disposed of, have produced a sum probably exceeding five dollars; yet it was our all, except the few tattered garments that we had on our backs, and were serviceable and all important to us in our impoverished situation. Not an article of bedding of any kind was left us on which to repose at night, or a chair or stool on which we could rest our wearied limbs! but, as destitute as we were, andnaked as they had left our dreary apartment, we had no other abiding place.With a few half penny’s which were jointly our hard earnings of that day, I purchased a peck of coal and a few pounds of potatoes; which while the former furnished us with a little fire, the latter served for the moment to appease our hunger—by a poor family in an adjoining room I was obliged with the loan of a wooden bench, which served as a seat and a table, from which we partook of our homely fare. In this woeful situation, hovering over a few half consumed coals, we spent a sleepless night. The day’s dawn brought additional afflictions—my poor wife who had until this period borne her troubles without a sigh or a murmur, and had passed through hardships and sorrows, which nothing but the Supreme Giver of patience and fortitude, and her perfect confidence in him, could have enabled her to sustain; yet so severe and unexpected a stroke as the last, she could not withstand—I found her in the morning gloomy and dejected, and so extremely feeble as to be hardly able to descend the stairs.We left our miserable habitation in the morning, with hopes that the wretched spectacle that we presented, weak and emaciated as we were, would move some to pity and induce them to impart that relief which our situations so much required—it would however be almost endless to recount the many rebuffs we met with in our attempts to craveassistance. Some few indeed were more merciful, and whatever their opinion might be of the cause of our misery, the distress they saw us in excited their charity, and for their own sakes were induced to contribute a trifle to our wants. We alternately happened among savages and christians, but even the latter, too much influenced by appearances, were very sparing of their bounty.With the small trifle that had been charitably bestowed on us, we returned at night to our wretched dwelling, which, stripped as it had been, could promise us but little more than a shelter, and where we spent the night very much as the preceding one.—Such was the debilitated state of my poor wife the ensuing morning, produced by excessive hunger and fatigue, as to render it certain, that sinking under the weight of misery, the hand of death in mercy to her, was about to release her from her long and unparalleled sufferings. I should be afraid of exciting too painful sensations in the minds of my readers, were I to attempt to describe my feelings at this moment, and to paint in all their horror, the miseries which afterward attended me; although so numerous had been my afflictions, that it seemed impossible for any new calamity to be capable of augmenting them;—men accustomed to vicissitudes are not soon dejected, but there are trials which human nature alone cannot surmount—indeed to such a state of wretchedness was I now reduced, that had it not been for my suffering family, life would have beenno longer desirable. The attendance that the helpless situation of my poor wife now demanded, it was not within my power to afford her, as early the next day I was reluctantly driven by hunger abroad in search of something that might serve to contribute to our relief. I left my unfortunate companion, attended by no other person but our little son, destitute of fuel and food, and stretched on an armful of straw, which I had been so fortunate as to provide myself with the day preceding;—the whole produce of my labours this day (which I may safely say was the most melancholly one of my life) amounted to no more than one shilling! which I laid out to the best advantage possible, in the purchase of a few of the necessaries, which the situation of my sick companion most required.I ought to have mentioned, that previous to this melancholy period, when most severely afflicted, I had been two or three times driven to the necessity of making application to the Overseers of the poor, of the parish in which I resided, for admittance into the Almshouse, or for some assistance, but never with any success; having always been put off by them with some evasive answer or frivolous pretence—sometimes charged by them with being an imposter, and that laziness more than debility and real want, had induced me to make the application—at other times I was told that being an American born, I had no lawful claim on the government of that country for support; that I ought to have made applicationto the American Consul for assistance, whose business it was to assist such of his countrymen whose situations required it.But such now was my distress, in consequence of the extreme illness of my wife, that I must receive that aid so indispensably necessary at this important crisis, or subject myself to witness a scene no less distressing, than that of my poor wretched wife, actually perishing for the want of that care and nourishment which it was not in my power to afford her! Thus situated I was induced to renew my application to the Overseer for assistance, representing to him the deplorable situation of my family, who were actually starving for the want of that sustenance which it was not in my power to procure for them; and what I thought would most probably effect his feelings, described to him the peculiar and distressing situation of my wife, the hour of whose dissolution was apparently fast approaching—but, I soon found that I was addressing one who possessed a heart callous to the feelings of humanity—one, whose feelings were not to be touched by a representation of the greatest misery with which human nature could be afflicted. The same cruel observations were made as before, that I was a vile impostor who was seeking by imposition to obtain that support in England, which my own country had withheld from me—that the American Yankees had fought for and obtained their Independence, and yet were not independent enough to support their own poor!—thatGreat Britain would find enough to do, was she to afford relief to every d—d yankee vagabond that should apply for it!—fortunately for this abusive British scoundrel, I possessed not now that bodily strength and activity, which I could once boast of, or the villain (whether within his Majesty’s dominions or not) should have received on the spot a proof of “Yankee Independence” for his insolence.Failing in my attempts to obtain the assistance which the lamentable situation of my wife required, I had recourse to other means—I waited on two or three gentlemen in my neighbourhood, who had been represented to me as persons of humanity, and entreated them to visit my wretched dwelling, and to satisfy themselves by occular demonstration, of the state of my wretchedness, especially that of my dying companion—they complied with my request, and were introduced by me to a scene, which for misery and distress, they declared surpassed every thing that they had ever before witnessed!—they accompanied me immediately to one in whom was invested the principal government of the poor of the parish, and represented to him, the scene of human misery which they had been an eye witness to—whereupon an order was issued to have my wife conveyed to the Hospital, which was immediately done and where she was comfortably provided for—but, alas, the relief which her situation had so much required, had been too long deferred—her deprivation and sufferings had been too great to admit of her being nowrestored to her former state of health, or relieved by any thing that could be administered—after her removal to the Hospital, she lingered a few days in a state of perfect insensibility, and then closed her eyes forever on a world, where for many years, she had been the unhappy subject of almost constant affliction.I felt very sensibly the irreparable loss of one who had been my companion in adversity, as well as in prosperity; and when blessed with health, had afforded me by her industry that assistance, without which, the sufferings of our poor children would have been greater if possible than what they were. My situation was now truly a lonely one, bereaved of my wife, and all my children except one; who, although but little more than seven years of age, was a child of that sprightliness and activity, as to possess himself with a perfect knowledge of the chair-bottoming business, and by which he earned not only enough (when work could be obtained) to furnish himself with food, but contributed much to the relief of his surviving parent, when confined by illness and infirmity.We continued to improve the apartment from which my wife had been removed, until I was so fortunate as to be able to rent a ready furnished apartment (as it was termed) at four shillings and sixpence per week. Apartments of this kind are not uncommon in London, and are intended to accommodate poor families, situated as we were, who hadbeen so unfortunate as to be stripped of every thing but the cloathes on their backs by their unfeeling landlords. These “ready furnished rooms” were nothing but miserable apartments in garrets, and contain but few more conveniences than what many of our common prisons in America afford—a bunk of straw, with two or three old blankets, a couple of chairs, and a rough table about three feet square, with an article or two of iron ware in which to cook our victuals (if we should be so fortunate as to obtain any) was the contents of the “ready furnished apartment” that we were now about to occupy—but even with these few conveniences, it was comparatively a palace to the one we had for several weeks past improved.When my health would permit, I seldom failed to visit daily the most public streets of the city, and from morning to night cry for old chairs to mend—accompanied by my son Thomas, with a bundle of flags, as represented in the Plate annexed to this volume. If we were so fortunate as to obtain a job of work more than we could complete in the day, with the permission of the owner, I would convey the chairs on my back to my humble dwelling, and with the assistance of my little son, improve the evening to complete the work, which would produce us a few half pennies to purchase something for our breakfast the next morning—but it was very seldom that instances of this kind occurred, as it was more frequently the case that after crying for old chairs to mend, the whole day, we were obliged to return, hungry andweary, and without a single half penny in our pockets, to our humble dwelling, where we were obliged to fast until the succeeding day; and indeed there were some instances in which we were compelled to fast two or three days successively, without being able to procure a single job of work.—The rent I had obligated myself to pay every night, and frequently when our hunger was such as hardly to be endured, I was obliged to reserve the few pennies that I was possessed of to apply to this purpose.In our most starving condition when every other plan failed, my little son would adopt the expedient of sweeping the public cause-ways (leading from one walk to the other) where he would labour the whole day, with the expectation of receiving no other reward than what the generosity of gentlemen, who had occasion to cross, would induce them to bestow in charity, and which seldom amounted to more than a few pennies—sometime the poor boy would toil in this way the whole day, without being so fortunate as to receive a single half penny—it was then he would return home sorrowful and dejected, and while he attempted to conceal his own hunger, with tears in his eyes, would lament his hard fortune in not being able to obtain something to appease mine.—While he was thus employed I remained at home, but not idle, being as busily engaged in making matches, with which (when he returned home empty handed) we were obliged as fatigued as we were, to visit the markets to expose for sale, andwhere we were obliged sometimes to tarry until eleven o’clock at night, before we could meet with a single purchaser.Having one stormy night of a Saturday, visited the market with my son for this purpose, and after exposing ourselves to the chilling rain until past 10 o’clock, without being able either of us to sell a single match, I advised the youth (being thinly clad) to return home feeling disposed to tarry myself a while longer, in hopes that better success might attend me, as having already fasted one day and night, it was indispensably necessary that I should obtain something to appease our hunger the succeeding day (Sunday) or what seemed almost impossible, to endure longer its torments! I remained until the clock struck eleven, the hour at which the market closed, and yet had met with no better success! It is impossible to describe the sensation of despondency which overwhelmed me at this moment! I now considered it as certain that I must return home with nothing wherewith to satisfy our craving appetites—and with my mind filled with the most heart rending reflections, I was about to return, when, Heaven seemed pleased to interpose in my behalf, and to send relief when I little expected it;—passing a beef stall I attracted the notice of the butcher, who viewing me, probably as I was, a miserable object of pity, emaciated by long fastings, and clad in tattered garments, from which the water was fast dripping, and judging no doubt by my appearance that on no onecould charity be more properly bestowed, he threw into my basket a beeve’s heart, with the request that I would depart with it immediately for my home, if any I had!—I will not attempt to describe the joy that I felt on this occasion, in so unexpectedly meeting with that relief, which my situation so much required. I hastened home with a much lighter heart than what I had anticipated; and when I arrived, the sensations of joy exhibited by my little son on viewing the prize that I bore, produced effects as various as extraordinary; he wept, then laughed and danced with transport.The reader must suppose that while I found it so extremely difficult to earn enough to preserve us from starvation, I had little to spare for cloathing and other necessaries; and that this was really my situation, I think no one will doubt, when I positively declare that to such extremities was I driven, that being unable to pay a barber for shaving me, I was obliged to adopt the expedient for more than two years, of clipping my beard as close as possible with a pair of scissors which I kept expressly for that purpose!—as strange and laughable as the circumstance may appear to some, I assure the reader that I state facts, and exaggerate nothing. As regarded our cloathes, I can say no more than that they were the best that we could procure, and were such as persons in our situations were obliged to wear—they served to conceal our nakedness, but would have proved insufficient to have protected our bodies,from the inclemency of the weather of a colder climate. Such indeed was sometimes our miserable appearance, clad in tattered garments, that while engaged in our employment in crying for old chairs to mend, we not only attracted the notice of many, but there were instances in which a few half pennies unsolicited were bestowed on us in charity—an instance of this kind happened one day as I was passing through threadneedle street; a gentleman perceiving by the appearance of the shoes that I wore, that they were about to quit me, put a half crown in my hand, and bid me go and cry “old shoes to mend!”In long and gloomy winter evenings, when unable to furnish myself with any other light than that emitted by a little fire of sea coal, I would attempt to drive away melancholy by amusing my son with an account of my native country, and of the many blessings there enjoyed by even the poorest class of people—of their fair fields producing a regular supply of bread—their convenient houses, to which they could repair after the toils of the day, to partake of the fruits of their labour, safe from the storms and the cold, and where they could lay down their heads to rest without any to molest them or to make them afraid. Nothing could have been better calculated to excite animation in the mind of the poor child, than an account so flattering of a country which had given birth to his father, and to which he had received my repeated assurances he should accompany me as soon as an opportunity should present—afterexpressing his fears that the happy day was yet far distant, with a deep sigh he would exclaim “would to God it wasto-morrow!”About a year after the decease of my wife, I was taken extremely ill, insomuch that at one time my life wasdespairedof, and had it not been for the friendless and lonely situation in which such an event would have placed my son, I should have welcomed the hour of my dissolution and viewed it as a consummation rather to be wished than dreaded; for so great had been my sufferings of mind and body, and the miseries to which I was still exposed, that life had really become a burden to me—indeed I think it would have been difficult to have found on the face of the earth a being more wretched than I had been for the three years past.During my illness my only friend on earth was my son Thomas, who did every thing to alleviate my wants within the power of his age to do—sometimes by crying for old chairs to mend (for he had become as expert a workman at this business as his father) and sometimes by sweeping the cause-ways, and by making and selling matches, he succeeded in earning each day a trifle sufficient to procure for me and himself a humble sustenance. When I had so far recovered as to be able to creep abroad, and the youth had been so fortunate as to obtain a good job, I would accompany him, although very feeble, and assist him in conveying the chairs home—it was on such occasions that my dear child would manifesthis tenderness and affection for me, by insisting (if there were four chairs) that I should carry but one, and he would carry the remaining three, or in that proportion if a greater or less number.From the moment that I had informed him of the many blessings enjoyed by my countrymen of every class, I was almost constantly urged by my son to apply to the American Consul for a passage—it was in vain that I represented to him, that if such an application was attended with success and the opportunity should be improved by me, it must cause our separation, perhaps forever; as he would not be permitted to accompany me at the expense of government—“never mind me (he would reply) do not father suffer any more on my account; if you can only succeed in obtaining a passage to a country where you can enjoy the blessings that you have described to me, I may hereafter be so fortunate as to meet with an opportunity to join you—and if not, it will be a consolation to me, whatever my afflictions may be, to think that yours have ceased!” My ardent wish to return to America, was not less than that of my son, but could not bear the thoughts of a separation; of leaving him behind exposed to all the miseries peculiar to the friendless poor of that country;—he was a child of my old age, and from whom I had received too many proofs of his love and regard for me, not to feel that parental affection for him to which his amiable disposition entitled him.I was indeed unacquainted with the place of residenceof the American Consul—I had made frequent enquiries, but found no one that could inform me correctly where he might be found; but so anxious was my son that I should spend the remnant of my days in that country where I should receive (if nothing more) a christian burial at my decease, and bid adieu forever to a land where I had spent so great a portion of my life in sorrow, and many years had endured the lingering tortures of protracted famine; that he ceased not to enquire of everyone with whom he was acquainted, until he obtained the wished for information. Having learned the place of residence of the American Consul, and fearful of the consequences of delay, he would give me no peace until I promised that I would accompany him there the succeeding day, if my strength would admit of it; for although I had partially recovered from a severe fit of sickness, yet I was still so weak and feeble as to be scarcely able to walk.My son did not forget to remind me early the next morning of my promise, and to gratify him more than with an expectation of meeting with much success I set out with him, feeble as I was, for the Consul’s. The distance was about two miles, and before I had succeeded in reaching half the way, I had wished myself a dozen times safe home again, and had it not been for the strong persuasions of my son to the contrary, I certainly should have returned.—I was never before so sensible of the effects of my long sufferings—which had produced that degree of bodilyweakness and debility, as to leave me scarcely strength sufficient to move without the assistance of my son; who, when he found me reeling or halting through weakness, would support me until I had gained sufficient strength to proceed.Although the distance was but two miles, yet such was the state of my weakness, that although we started early in the morning, it was half past 3 o’clockP.M.when we reached the Consul’s office, when I was so much exhausted as to be obliged to ascend the steps on my hands and knees. Fortunately we found the Consul in, and on my addressing him and acquainting him with the object of my visit, he seemed at first unwilling to credit the fact that I was an American born—but after interrogating me sometime, as to the place of my nativity, the cause which first brought me to England, &c. he seemed to be more satisfied; he however observed (on being informed that the lad who accompanied me was my son) that he could procure a passage for me, but not for him, as being born in England, the American government would consider him a British subject, and under no obligation to defray the expence of his passage—and as regarded myself, he observed, that he had his doubts, so aged and infirm as I appeared to be, whether I should live to reach America, if I should attempt it.I cannot say that I was much surprised at the observations of the Consul, as they exactly agreed with what I had anticipated—and as anxious as I thenfelt to visit once more my native country, I felt determined not to attempt it, unless I could be accompanied by my son, and expressed myself to this effect to the Consul—the poor lad appeared nearly overcome with grief when he saw me preparing to return without being able to effect my object; indeed so greatly was he affected, and such the sorrow that he exhibited, that he attracted the notice (and I believe I may add the pity) of the Consul—who, after making some few enquiries as regarded his disposition, age, &c. observed that he could furnish the lad with a passage at his own expense, which he should have no objection to do if I would consent to his living with a connection of his (theConsul,) on his arrival in America—“but (continued he,) in such a case you must be a while separated, for it would be imprudent for you to attempt the passage until you have gained more strength—I will pay your board, where by better living than you have been latterly accustomed to, you may have a chance to recruit—but your son must take passage on board the London Packet, which sails for Boston the day after to-morrow.”Although but a few moments previous, my son would have thought no sacrifice too great, that would have enabled us to effect our object in obtaining passages to America; yet, when he found that instead of himself, I was to be left for a while behind, he appeared at some loss how to determine—but on being assured by the Consul that if my life was spared I should soon join him, he consented; and being furnishedby the Consul with a few necessary articles of cloathing, I the next day accompanied him on board the packet which was to convey him to America—and after giving him the best advice that I was capable of as regarded his behaviour and deportment while on his passage, and on his arrival in America, I took my leave of him and saw him not again until I met him on the wharf on my arrival at Boston.When I parted with the Consul he presented me with half a crown, and directions where to apply for board—it was at a public Inn where I found many American seamen, who, like myself, were boarded there at the Consul’s expence, until passages could be obtained for them to America—I was treated by them with much civility, and by hearing them daily recount their various and remarkable adventures, as well as by relating my own, I passed my time more agreeably than what I probably should have done in other society.In eight weeks I was so far recruited by good living, as in the opinion of the Consul, to be able to endure the fatigues of a passage to my native country, and which was procured for me on board the ship Carterian, bound to New-York. We set sail on the 5th April, 1823, and after a passage of 42 days, arrived safe at our port of destination. After having experienced in a foreign land so much ill-treatment from those from whom I could expect no mercy, and for no other fault than that of being an American, I could not but flatter myself that when I bid adieu to thatcountry, I should no longer be the subject of unjust persecution, or have occasion to complain of ill treatment from those whose duty it was to afford me protection. But the sad reverse which I experienced while on board the Carterian, convinced me of the incorrectness of my conclusions. For my country’s sake, I am happy that I have it in my power to say that the crew of this ship, was not composed altogether of Americans—there was a mixture of all nations; and among them some so vile, and destitute of every humane principle, as to delight in nothing so much as to sport with the infirmities of one, whose grey locks ought at least to have protected him. By these unfeeling wretches (who deserve not the name of sailors) I was not only most shamefully ill-used on the passage, but was robbed of some necessary articles of cloathing, which had been charitably bestowed on me by the American Consul.We arrived in the harbour of New-York about midnight, and such were the pleasing sensations produced by the reflection that on the morrow I should be indulged with the priviledge of walking once more on American ground after an absence of almost 50 years, and that but a short distance now separated me from my dear son, that it was in vain that I attempted to close my eyes to sleep. Never was the morning’s dawn so cheerfully welcomed by me. I solicited and obtained the permission of the captain to be early set on shore, and on reaching which, I did not forget to offer up my unfeigned thanks tothat Almighty Being, who had not only sustained me during my heavy afflictions abroad, but had finally restored me to my native country. The pleasure that I enjoyed in viewing the streets thronged by those, who, although I could not claim as acquaintances, I could greet as my countrymen, was unbounded, I felt a regard for almost every object that met my eyes, because it was American.Great as was my joy on finding myself once more among my countrymen, I felt not a little impatient for the arrival of the happy moment when I should be able to meet my son. Agreeable to the orders which I received from the American Consul, I applied to the Custom House in New-York for a passage from thence to Boston, and with which I was provided on board a regular packet which sailed the morning ensuing—in justice to the captain, I must say that I was treated by him as well as by all on board, with much civility. We arrived at the Long Wharf in Boston after a short and pleasant passage. I had been informed by the Consul, previous to leaving London, of the name of the gentleman with whom my son probably lived, and a fellow passenger on board the packet was so good as to call on and inform him of my arrival—in less than fifteen minutes after receiving the information my son met me on the wharf! Reader, you will not believe it possible for me to describe my feelings correctly at this joyful moment! if you are a parent, you may have some conception of them; but a faint one howeverunless you and an only and beloved child have been placed in a similar situation.After acquainting myself with the state of my boy’s health, &c. my next enquiry was whether he found the country as it had been described by me, and how he esteemed it—“well, extremely well (was his reply) since my arrival I have fared like a Prince, I have meat every day, and have feasted on American puddings and pies (such as you used to tell me about) until I have become almost sick of them!” I was immediately conducted by him to the house of the gentleman with whom he lived, and by whom I was treated with much hospitality—in the afternoon of the day succeeding (by the earnest request of my son) I visited Bunker Hill, which he had a curiosity to view, having heard it so frequently spoken of by me while in London, as the place where the memorable battle was fought and in which I received my wounds.I continued in Boston about a fortnight, and then set out on foot to visit once more my native State. My son accompanied me as far as Roxbury, when I was obliged reluctantly to part with him, and proceeded myself no farther on my journey that day than Jamaica plains, where at a public house I tarried all night—from thence I started early the next morning and reached Providence about 5 o’-clock in the afternoon, and obtained lodgings at a public Inn in High-Street.It may not be improper here to acquaint my readersthat as I had left my father possessed of very considerable property, and of which at his decease I thought myself entitled to a portion equal to that of other children, which (as my father was very economical in the management of his affairs) I knew could not amount to a very inconsiderable sum, it was to obtain this if possible, that I became extremely anxious to visit immediately the place of my nativity—accordingly the day after I arrived in Providence, I hastened to Cranston, to seek my connexions if any were to be found; and if not to seek among the most aged of the inhabitants, some one who had not forgotten me, and who might be able to furnish me with the sought for information. But, alas, too soon were blasted my hopeful expectations of finding something in reserve for me, that might have afforded me a humble support, the few remaining years of my life. It was by a distant connection that I was informed that my brothers had many years since removed to a distant part of the country—that having credited a rumour in circulation of my death, at the decease of my father had disposed of the real estate of which he died possessed, and had divided the proceeds equally among themselves! This was another instance of adverse fortune that I had not anticipated!—it was indeed a circumstance so foreign from my mind that I felt myself for the first time, unhappy, since my return to my native country, and even believed myself now doomed to endure, among my own countrymen (for whose libertiesI had fought and bled) miseries similar to those that had attended me for many years in Europe. With these gloomy forebodings I returned to Providence, and contracted for board with the gentleman at whose house I had lodged the first night of my arrival in town, and to whom for the kind treatment that I have received from him and his family, I shall feel till death under the deepest obligations that gratitude can dictate; for I can truly say of him, that I was a stranger and he took me in, I was hungry and naked, and he fed and cloathed me.As I had never received any remuneration for services rendered, and hardships endured in the cause of my country, I was now obliged, as my last resort, to petition Congress to be included in that number of the few surviving soldiers of the Revolution, for whose services they had been pleased to grant pensions—and I would to God that I could add, for the honour of my country, that the application met with its deserving success—but, although accompanied by the deposition of a respectable gentleman (which deposition I have thought proper to annex to my narrative) satisfactorily confirming every fact as therein stated—yet, on no other principle, than thatI was absent from the country when the pension law passed—my Petition was REJECTED!!! Reader, I have been for 30 years (as you will perceive by what I have stated in the foregoing pages) subject, in aforeigncountry, to almost all the miseries with which poor human nature is capable of being inflicted—yet,in no one instance did I ever feel so great degree of a depression of spirits, as when the fate of my Petition was announced to me! I love too well the country which gave me birth, and entertain too high a respect for those employed in its government, to reproach them with ingratitude; yet, it is my sincere prayer that this strange and unprecedented circumstance, of withholding from me that reward which they have so generally bestowed on others, may never be told in Europe, or published in the streets of London, least it reach the ears of some who had the effrontery to declare to me personally, that for the active part that I had taken in the “rebellious war” misery and starvation would ultimately be my reward!
For four or five days, after I reached London, I did very little more than walk about the city, viewing such curiosities as met my eye; when, reflecting that remaining thus idle, I should not only be very soon out of funds, but should run the risk of being suspected and apprehended as one belonging to oneof the numerous gangs of pick-pockets &c. which infest the streets of the city; I applied to an Intelligence Office for a coachman’s berth, which I was so fortunate as to procure, at 15 shillings per week—my employer (J. Hyslop, Esq.) although rigid in his exactions, was punctual in his payments, and by my strict prudence and abstinence from the numerous diversions of the city, I was enabled in the six months which I served him, to lay up more cash than what I had earned the twelve months preceding. The next business in which I engaged was that of brick making, and which together with that of gardening, I pursued in the summer seasons almost exclusively for five years; in all which time I was not once suspected of being an American, yet, I must confess that my feelings were not unfrequently most powerfully wrought upon, by hearing my countrymen dubbed with cowardice, and by those too who had been thrice flogged or frightened by them when attempting to ascend the heights of Bunker Hill! and to be obliged to brook these insults with impunity, as to have resented them would have caused me to have been suspected directly of being attached to the American cause, which might have been attended with serious consequences.
I should now pass over the five years that I was employed as above mentioned, as checquered by few incidents worth relating, was it not for one or two circumstances of some little importance thateither attended me, or came within my own personal knowledge. The reader has undoubtedly heard that the city of London and its suburbs, is always more or less infested with gangs of nefarious wretches, who come under the denomination of Robbers, Pickpockets, Shoplifters, Swindlers, Beggars, &c. who are constantly prowling the streets in disguise, seeking opportunities to surprise and depredate on the weak and unguarded—of these the former class form no inconsiderable portion, who contrive to elude and set at defiance the utmost vigilance of government—they are a class who in the day time disperse each to his avocation, as the better to blind the scrutinizing eye of justice, they make it a principle to follow some laborious profession, and at night assemble to proceed on their nocturnal rounds, in quest of those whose well stored pockets promise them a reward, equal to the risk which they run in obtaining it. As I was one evening passing through Hyde Park, with five guineas and a few pennies in my pockets, I was stopped by six of these lawless footpads; who, presenting pistols to my breast, demanded my money—fortunately for me I had previously deposited the guineas in a private pocket of my pantaloons, for their better security; thrusting their hands into my other pockets and finding me in possession of but a few English pennies, they took them and decamped. I hastened to Bow Street and lodged information of the robbery with the officers, and who to my no little surprise informed me thatmine was the fifth instance, of information of similar robberies by the same gang, which had been lodged with them that evening!—runners had been sent in every direction in pursuit of them, but with what success I could never learn.
Despairing of meeting with a favourable opportunity to return to America, until the conclusion of peace, and the prospects of a continuation of the war being as great then (by what I could learn) as at any period from its commencement, I became more reconciled to my situation, and contracted an intimacy with a young woman whose parents were poor but respectable, and who I soon after married. I took a small ready furnished chamber, in Red Cross Street, where with the fruits of my hard earnings, I was enabled to live tolerable comfortable for three or four years—when, by sickness and other unavoidable circumstances, I was doomed to endure miseries uncommon to human nature.
In the winter of 1781, news was received in London of the surrender of the army of Lord Cornwallis, to the French and American forces!—the receipt of news of an event so unexpected operated on the British ministers and members of Parliament, like a tremendous clap of thunder—deep sorrow was evidently depicted in the countenances of those who had been the most strenuous advocates for the war—never was there a time in which I longed more to exult, and to declare myself a true blooded yankee—and what was still more pleasingto me, was to find myself even surpassed inexpressionsof joy and satisfaction, by my wife, in consequence of the receipt of news, which, while it went to establish the military fame of my countrymen, was so calculated to humble the pride of her own! greater proofs of her regard for me and my country I could not require.
The ministerial party in Parliament who had been the instigators of the war, and who believed that even a view of the bright glistening muskets and bayonets of John Bull, would frighten the leather apron Yankees to a speedy submission, began now to harbour a more favourable opinion of the courage of the latter. His Majesty repaired immediately to the house of peers, and opened the sessions of parliament—warm debates took place, on account of the ruinous manner in which the American war was continued; but Lord North and his party appeared yet unwilling to give up the contest. The capitulation of Cornwallis had however one good effect, as it produced the immediate release of Mr. Laurens from the Tower, and although it did not put an immediate end to the war, yet all hopes of conquering America from that moment appeared to be given up by all except North and his adherents.
There was no one engaged in the cause of America, that did more to establish her fame in England, and to satisfy the high boasting Britains of the bravery and unconquerable resolutions of the Yankees,than that bold adventurer capt. Paul Jones; who, for ten or eleven months kept all the western coast of the island in alarm—he boldly landed at Whitehaven, where he burnt a ship in the harbour, and even attempted to burn the town;—nor was this to my knowledge the only instance in which the Britains were threatened with a very serious conflagration, by the instigation of their enemies abroad—a daring attempt was made by one James Aitkin, commonly known in London by the name of John the Painter, to set fire to the royal dock and shipping at Portsmouth, and would probably have succeeded, had he not imprudently communicated his intentions to one, who, for the sake of a few guineas, shamefully betrayed him—poor Aitkin was immediately seized, tried, condemned, executed and hung in chains—every means was used to extort from him a confession by whom he had been employed, but without any success—it was however strongly suspected that he had been employed by the French, as it was about the time that they openly declared themselves in favour of the Americans.
With regard to Mr. Laurens, I ought to have mentioned that as soon as I heard of his capture on his passage to Holland, and of his confinement in the Tower, I applied for and obtained permission to visit him in his apartment, and (with some distant hopes that he might point out some way in which I might be enabled to return to America) I stated to him every particular as regarded my situation.He seemed not only to lament very much my hard fortune, but (to use his own words) “that America should be deprived of the services of such men, at the important period too when she most required them.”—He informed me that he was himself held a prisoner, and knew not when or on what conditions he would be liberated, but should he thereafter be in a situation to assist me in obtaining a passage to America, he should consider it a duty which he owed his country to do it.
Although I succeeded in obtaining by my industry a tolerable living for myself and family, yet, so far from becoming reconciled to my situation, I was impatient for the return of Peace, when (as I then flattered myself) I should once more have an opportunity to return to my native country. I became every day less attached to a country where I could not meet with any thing (with the exception of my little family) that could compensate me for the loss of the pleasing society of my kindred and friends in America—born among a moral and humane people, and having in my early days contracted their habits, and a considerable number of their prejudices, it would be unnatural to suppose that I should not prefer their society, to either that of rogues, thieves, pimps and vagabonds, or of a more honest but an exceedingly oppressed and forlorn people.
I found London as it had been represented to me, a large and magnificent city, filled with inhabitants of almost every description and occupation—andsuch an one indeed as might be pleasing to an Englishman, delighting in tumult and confusion, and accustomed to witness scenes of riot and dissipation, as well as those of human infliction; and for the sake of variety, would be willing to imprison himself within the walls of a Bedlam, where continual noise would deafen him, where the unwholesomeness of the air would effect his lungs, and where the closeness of the surrounding buildings would not permit him to enjoy the enlivening influence of the sun! There is not perhaps another city of its size in the whole world, the streets of which display a greater contrast in the wealth and misery, the honesty and knavery, of its inhabitants, than the city of London. The eyes of the passing stranger (unaccustomed to witness such scenes) is at one moment dazzled by the appearance of pompous wealth, with its splendid equippage—at the next he is solicited by one apparently of the most wretched of human beings, to impart a single penny for the relief of his starving family! Among the latter class, there are many; however, who so far from being the real objects of charity that they represent themselves to be, actually possess more wealth than those who sometimes benevolently bestow it—these vile imposters, by every species of deception that was ever devised or practiced by man, aim to excite the pity and compassion, and to extort charity from those unacquainted with their easy circumstances—they possess the faculty of assuming any character that may best suit their purpose—sometimeshobbling with a crutch and exhibiting a wooden leg—at other times “an honourable scar of a wound, received in Egypt, at Waterloo or at Trafalgar, fighting for their most gracious sovereign and master King George!”
Independent of these there is another species of beggars (the gypsies) who form a distinct clan, and will associate with none but those of their own tribe—they are notorious thieves as well as beggars, and constantly infest the streets of London to the great annoyance of strangers and those who have the appearance of being wealthy—they have no particular home or abiding place, but encamp about in open fields or under hedges, as occasion requires—they are generally of a yellow complexion, and converse in a dialect peculiar only to themselves—their thieving propensities do not unfrequently lead them to kidnap little children, whenever an opportunity presents; having first by a dye changed their complexion to one that corresponds with their own, they represent them as their own offspring, and carry them about half naked on their backs to excite the pity and compassion of those of whom they beg charity. An instance of this species of theft by a party of these unprincipled vagabonds, occurred once in my neighbourhood while an inhabitant of London—the little girl kidnapped was the daughter of a Capt. Kellem of Coventry Street—being sent abroad on some business for her parents, she was met by a gang of Gypsies, consisting of five men and six women, who seizedher, and forcibly carried her away to their camp, in the country, at a considerable distance, having first stripped her of her own cloathes, and in exchange dressed her in some of their rags—thus garbed she travelled about the country with them for nearly 7 months, and was treated as the most abject slave, and her life threatened if she should endeavour to escape or divulged her story;—she stated that during the time she was with them they entrapped a little boy about her own age, whom they also stripped and carried with them, but took particular care he should never converse with her, treating him in the like savage manner; she said that they generally travelled by cross roads and private ways, ever keeping a watchful eye that she might not escape, and that no opportunity offered until when, by some accident, they were obliged to send her from their camp to a neighbouring farm house, in order to procure a light, which she took advantage of; and scrambling over hedges and ditches, as she supposed for the distance of 8 or 9 miles, reached London worn out with fatigue and hunger, her support with them being always scanty, and of the worst sort; to which was added the misery of sleeping under hedges, and exposure to the inclemency of the weather—it was the intention of the gypsies she said to have coloured her and the boy when the walnut season approached.
The streets of London and its suburbs are also infested with another and a still more dreadful species of rogues, denominated Footpads, and who oftenmurder in the most inhuman manner, for the sake of only a few shillings, any unfortunate people who happen to fall in their way—of this I was made acquainted with enumerable instances, while an inhabitant of London; I shall however mention but two that I have now recollection of:—
A Mr. Wylde while passing through Marlborough Street, in a chaise, was stopped by a footpad, who, on demanding his money, received a few shillings, but being dissatisfied with the little booty he obtained, still kept a pistol at Mr. Wylde’s head, and on the latter’s attempting gently to turn it aside, the villain fired, and lodged seven slugs in his head and breast, which caused instant death—Mr. W. expired in the arms of his son and grandson without a groan. A few days after as a Mr. Greenhill was passing through York-Street in a single horse chaise, he was met and stopped by three footpads, armed with pistols, one of them seized and held the horse’s head, while the other two most inhumanely dragged Mr. G. over the back of his chaise, and after robbing him of his notes, watch and hat gave him two severe cuts on his head and left him in that deplorable state in the road.—The above are but two instances of hundreds of a similar nature, which yearly occur in the most public streets of the city of London. The city is infested with a still higher order of rogues, denominated pick-pockets or cutpurses, who to carry on their nefarious practices, garb themselves like gentlemen, and introduce themselves into the most fashionable circles;many of them indeed are persons who once sustained respectable characters, but who, by extravagance and excesses, have reduced themselves to want and find themselves obliged at last to have recourse to pilfering and thieving.
Thus have I endeavoured to furnish the reader with the particulars of a few of the vices peculiar to a large portion of the inhabitants of the city of London—to these might be added a thousand other misdemeanors of a less criminal nature, daily practiced by striplings from the age of six, to the hoary headed of ninety!—this I assure my readers is a picture correctly delineated and not too highly wrought of a city famous for its magnificence, and where I was doomed to spend more than 40 years of my life, and in which time pen, ink, and paper would fail, were I to attempt to record the various instances of misery and want that attended me and my poor devoted family.
In September 1783, the glorious news of a definitive treaty of Peace having been signed between the United States and Great-Britain, was publicly announced in London—while on the minds of those who had been made rich by the war, the unwelcomed news operated apparently like a paralytic stroke, a host of those whose views had been inimical to the cause of America, and had sought refuge in England, attempted to disguise their disappointment and dejection under a veil of assumed cheerfulness. As regarded myself, I can only say, that had an event so long and ardently wished for by me taken place buta few months before, I should have hailed it as the epoch of my deliverance from a state of oppression and privation that I had already too long endured.
An opportunity indeed now presented for me to return once more to my native country, after so long an absence, had I possessed the means; but much was the high price demanded for a passage, and such had been my low wages, and the expenses attending the support of even a small family in London, that I found myself at this time in possession of funds hardly sufficient to defray the expense of my own passage, and much less that of my wife and child—hence the only choice left me was either to desert them, and thereby subject them (far separated from one) to the frowns of an uncharitable people, or to content myself to remain with them and partake of a portion of that wretchedness which even my presence could not avert. When the affairs of the American Government had become so far regulated as to support a Consul at the British court, I might indeed have availed myself individually, of the opportunity which presented of procuring a passage home at the Government’s expence; but as this was a privilege that could not be extended to my wife and child, my regard for them prevented my embracing the only means provided by my country for the return of her captured soldiers and seamen.
To make the best of my hard fortune, I became as resigned and reconciled to my situation as circumstanceswould admit of; flattering myself that fortune might at some unexpected moment so far decide in my favour, as to enable me to accomplish my wishes—I indeed bore my afflictions with a degree of fortitude which I could hardly have believed myself possessed of—I had become an expert workman at brick making at which business and at gardening, I continued to work for very small wages, for three or four years after the Peace—but still found my prospects of a speedy return to my country, by no ways flattering. The peace had thrown thousands who had taken an active part in the war, out of employ; London was thronged with them—who, in preference to starving, required no other consideration for their labour than a humble living, which had a lamentable effect in reducing the wages of the labouring class of people; who, previous to this event were many of them so extremely poor, as to be scarcely able to procure the necessaries of life for their impoverished families—among this class I must rank myself, and from this period ought I to date the commencement of my greatest miseries, which never failed to attend me in a greater or less degree until that happy moment, when favoured by providence, I was permitted once more to visit the peaceful shores of the land of my nativity.
When I first entered the city of London, I was almost stunned, while my curiosity was not a little excited by what is termed the “cries of London”—thestreets were thronged by persons of both sexes and of every age, crying each the various articles which they were exposing for sale, or for jobs of work at their various occupations;—I little then thought that this was a mode which I should be obliged myself to adopt to obtain a scanty pittance for my needy family—but, such indeed proved to be the case. The great increase of labourers produced by the cessation of hostilities, had so great an effect in the reduction of wages, that the trifling consideration now allowed me by my employers for my services, in the line of business in which I had been several years engaged, was no longer an object, being insufficient to enable me to procure a humble sustenance. Having in vain sought for more profitable business, I was induced to apply to an acquaintance for instruction in the art of chair bottoming, and which I partially obtained from him for a trifling consideration.
It was now (which was in the year 1789) that I assumed a line of business very different from that in which I had ever before been engaged—fortunately for me, I possessed strong lungs, which I found very necessary in an employment the success of which depended, in a great measure, in being enabled to drown the voices of others (engaged in the same occupation) by my own—“Old Chairs to Mend,” became now my constant cry through the streets of London, from morning to night; and although I found my business not so profitable as Icould have wished, yet it yielded a tolerable support for my family some time, and probably would have continued so to have done, had not the almost constant illness of my children, rendered the expenses of my family much greater than they otherwise would have been—thus afflicted by additional cares and expense, (although I did every thing in my power to avoid it) I was obliged, to alleviate the sufferings of my family, to contract some trifling debts which it was not in my power to discharge.
I now became the victim of additional miseries—I was visited by a bailiff employed by a creditor, who seizing me with the claws of a tiger, dragged me from my poor afflicted family and inhumanly thurst me into prison! indeed no misery that I ever before endured equalled this—separated from those dependent on me for the necessaries of life, and placed in a situation in which it was impossible for me to afford them any relief!—fortunately for me at this melancholly moment, my wife enjoyed good health, and it was to her praise-worthy exertions that her poor helpless children, as well as myself, owed our preservation from a state of starvation!—this good woman had become acquainted with many who had been my customers, whom she made acquainted with my situation, and the sufferings of my family, and who had the humanity to furnish me with work during my confinement—the chairs were conveyed to and from the prison by my wife—in this way I was enabled to support myself and tocontribute something to the relief of my afflicted family. I had in vain represented to my unfeeling creditor my inability to satisfy his demands, and in vain represented to him the suffering condition of those wholly dependent on me; unfortunately for me, he proved to be one of those human beasts, who, having no soul, take pleasure in tormenting that of others, who never feel but in their own misfortunes, and never rejoice but in the afflictions of others—of such beings, so disgraceful to human nature, I assure the reader London contains not an inconsiderable number.
After having for four months languished in a horrid prison, I was liberated therefrom a mere skeleton; the mind afflicted had tortured the body; so much is the one in subjection to the other—I returned sorrowful and dejected to my afflicted family whom I found in very little better condition. We now from necessity took up our abode in an obscure situation near Moorfields; where, by my constant application to business, I succeeded in earning daily a humble pittance for my family, bearly sufficient however to satisfy the cravings of nature; and to add to my afflictions, some one of my family were almost constantly indisposed.
However wretched my situation there were many others at this period, with whom I was particularly acquainted, whose sufferings were greater if possible than my own; and whom want and misery drove to the commission of crimes, that in any other situationthey would probably not have been guilty of. Such was the case of the unfortunate Bellamy, who was capitally convicted and executed for a crime which distresses in his family, almost unexampled, had in a moment of despair, compelled him to commit. He was one who had seen better days, was once a commissioned officer in the army, but being unfortunate he was obliged to quit the service to avoid the horrors of a prison, and was thrown on the world, without a single penny or a single friend. The distresses of his family were such, that they were obliged to live for a considerable time deprived of all sustenance except what they could derive from scanty and precarious meals of potatoes and milk—in this situation his unfortunate wife was confined in child bed—lodging in an obscure garret, she was destitute of every species of those conveniences almost indespensable with females in her condition, being herself without clothes, and to procure a covering for her new born infant, all their resources were exhausted. In this situation his wife and children must inevitably have starved, were it not for the loan of five shillings which he walked from London to Blackheath to borrow. At his trial he made a solemn appeal to heaven, as to the truth of every particular as above stated—and that so far from wishing to exaggerate a single fact, he had suppressed many more instances of calamity scarcely to be paralleled—that after the disgrace brought upon himself by this single transaction, life could not be a boon hewould be anxious to solicit, but that nature pleaded in his breast for a deserving wife and helpless child—all however was ineffectual, he was condemned and executed pursuant to his sentence.
I have yet one or two more melancholly instances of the effects of famine to record, the first of which happened within a mile of my then miserable habitation—a poor widow woman, who had been left destitute with five small children, and who had been driven to the most awful extremities by hunger, overpowered at length by the pitiful cries of her wretched offspring, for a morsel of bread, in a fit of despair, rushed into the shop of a baker in the neighbourhood, and seizing a loaf of bread bore it off to the relief of her starving family, and while in the act of dividing it among them, the baker (who had pursued her) entered and charged her with the theft—the charge she did not deny, but plead the starving condition of her wretched family in palliation of the crime!—the baker noticing a platter on the table containing a quantity of roasted meat, he pointed to it as a proof that she could not have been driven to such an extremity by hunger—but, his surprise may be better imagined than described, when being requested by the half distracted mother to approach and inspect more closely the contents of the platter, to find it to consist of the remains of a roasted dog! and which she informed him had been her only food, and that of her poor children, for the three preceding days!—the baker struck with so shocking aproof of the poverty and distress of the wretched family, humanely contributed to their relief until they were admitted into the hospital.
I was not personally acquainted with the family, but I well knew one who was, and who communicated to me the following melancholly particulars of its wretched situation; and with which I now present my readers, as another proof of the deplorable situation of the poor in England, after the close of the American war:—The minister of a parish was sent for to attend the funeral of a deceased person in his neighbourhood, being conducted to the apartment which contained the corpse (and which was the only one improved by the wretched family) he found it so low as to be unable to stand upright in it—in a dark corner of the room stood a three legged stool, which supported a coffin of rough boards, and which contained the body of the wretched mother, who had the day previous expired in labour for the want of assistance. The father was sitting on a little stool over a few coals of fire, and endeavouring to keep the infant warm in his bosom; five of his seven children, half naked, were asking their father for a piece of bread, while another about three years old was standing over the corpse of his mother, and crying, as he was wont to do, “take me, take me, mammy!”—“Mammy is asleep,” said one of his sisters with tears in her eyes, “mammy is asleep, Johnny, don’t cry, the good nurse has gone to beg you some bread and will soon return!”—In a few minutes after,an old woman, crooked with age, and clothed in tatters came hobbling into the room, with a two-penny loaf in her hand, and after heaving a sigh, calmly set down, and divided the loaf as far as it would go among the poor half famished children: and which she observed was the only food they had tasted for the last 24 hours! By the kind interposition of the worthy divine, a contribution was immediately raised for the relief of this wretched family.
I might add many more melancholly instances of the extreme poverty and distress of the wretched poor of London, and with which I was personally acquainted; but the foregoing it is presumed will be sufficient to satisfy the poorest class of inhabitants of America, that, if deprived of the superfluities, so long as they can obtain the necessaries of life, they ought not to murmur, but have reason to thank the Almighty that they were born Americans. That one half the world knows not how the other half lives, is a common and just observation;—complaints and murmurs are frequent I find among those of the inhabitants of this highly favoured country, who are not only blessed with the liberty and means of procuring for themselves and their families, the necessaries and comforts, but even many of the luxuries of life!—they complain of poverty, and yet never knew what it was to be really poor! having never either experienced or witnessed such scenes of distress and woe as I have described, they even suppose their imaginary wants and privations equal to those of almost any of the human race!
Let those of my countrymen who thus imagine themselves miserable amid plenty, cross the Atlantic and visit the miserable habitations of real and unaffected woe—if their hearts are not destitute of feeling, they will return satisfied to their own peaceful and happy shores, and pour forth the ejaculations of gratitude to that universal parent, who has given them abundance and exempted them from the thousand ills, under the pressure of which a great portion of his children drag the load of life. Permit me to enquire of such unreasonable murmurers, have you compared your situation and circumstances of which you so much complain, with that of those of your fellow creatures, who are unable to earn by their hard labour even a scanty pittance for their starving families? have you compared your situation and circumstances, with that of those who have hardly ever seen the sun, but live confined in lead mines, stone quarries, and coal pits?—before you call yourselves wretched, take a survey of the gaols in Europe, in which wretched beings who have been driven to the commissions of crimes by starvation, or unfortunate and honest debtors (who have been torn from their impoverished families) are doomed to pine.
So far from uttering unreasonable complaints, the hearts of my highly favoured countrymen ought rather to be filled with gratitude to that Being, by whose assistance they have been enabled to avert so many of the miseries of life, so peculiar to a portion of the oppressed of Europe at the present day—andwho after groaning themselves for some time under the yoke of foreign tyranny, succeeded in emancipating themselves from slavery and are now blessed with the sweets of liberty, and the undisturbed enjoyment of their natural rights. Britain, imperious Britain, who once boasted the freedom of her government and the invincible power of her arms—now finds herself reduced to the humiliating necessity of receiving lessons of liberty from those whom till late she despised as slaves!—while our own country on the other hand, like a phoenix from her ashes, having emerged from a long, an expensive and bloody war, and established a constitution upon the broad and immovable basis of national equality, now promises to become the permanent residence of peace, liberty, science, and national felicity.—But, to return to the tale of my own sufferings—
While hundreds were daily becoming the wretched victims of hunger and starvation, I was enabled by my industry to obtain a morsel each day for my family; although this morsel, which was to be divided among four, would many times have proved insufficient to have satisfied the hunger of one—I seldom ever failed from morning to night to cry “old chairs to mend,” through the principal streets of the city, but many times with very little success—if I obtained four chairs to rebottom in the course of one day, I considered myself fortunate indeed, but instances of such good luck were very rare; it was more frequent that I did not obtain a single one,and after crying the whole day until I made myself hoarse, I was obliged to return to my poor family at night empty handed.
So many at one time engaged in the same business, that had I not resorted to other means my family must inevitably have starved—while crying “old chairs to mend,” I collected all the old rags, bits of paper, nails and broken glass which I could find in the streets, and which I deposited in a bag, which I carried with me for that purpose—these produced me a trifle, and that trifle when other resources failed, procured me a morsel of bread, or a few pounds of potatoes, for my poor wife and children—yet I murmured not as the dispensation of the supreme Arbiter of allotments, which had assigned to me so humbled a line of duty; although I could not have believed once, that I should ever have been brought to such a state of humiliating distress, as would have required such means to alleviate it.
In February 1793, War was declared by Great Britain against the republic of France—and although war is a calamity that ought always to be regretted by friends of humanity, as thousands are undoubtedly thereby involved in misery; yet, no event could have happened at that time productive of so much benefit to me, as this—it was the means of draining the country of those who had been once soldiers, and who, thrown out of employ by the peace, demanded a sum so trifling for their services, as to cause a reduction in the wages of the poor labouring class ofpeople, to a sum insufficient to procure the necessaries of life for their families;—this evil was now removed—the old soldiers preferred an employment more in character of themselves, to doing the drudgery of the city—great inducements were held out to them to enlist, and the army was not long retarded in its operations for the want of recruits. My prospects in being enabled to earn something to satisfy the calls of nature, became now more flattering;—the great number that had been employed during the Peace in a business similar to my own, were now reduced to one half, which enabled me to obtain such an extra number of jobs at chair mending that I no longer found it necessary to collect the scrapings of the streets as I had been obliged to do for the many months past. I was now enabled to purchase for my family two or three pounds of fresh meat each week, an article to which (with one or two exceptions) we had been strangers for more than a year—having subsisted principally on potatoes, oat meal bread, and salt fish, and sometimes, but rarely however, were enabled to treat ourselves to a little skim milk.
Had not other afflictions attended me, I should not have had much cause to complain of very extraordinary hardships or privations from this period, until the conclusion of the war in 1817;—my family had increased, and to increase my cares there was scarcely a week passed but that some one of them was seriously indisposed—of ten children of which I was the father, I had the misfortune to bury seven under five yearsof age, and two more after they had arrived to the age of twenty—my last and only child now living, it pleased the Almighty to spare to me, to administer help and comfort to his poor afflicted parent, and without whose assistance I should (so far from having been enabled once more to visit the land of my nativity) ’ere this have paid the debt of nature in a foreign land, and that too by a death no less horrible than that of starvation!
As my life was unattended with any very extraordinary circumstance (except the one just mentioned) from the commencement of the war, until the re-establishment of monarchy in France, and the cessation of hostilities on the part of Great Britain, in 1817, I shall commence on the narration of my unparalleled sufferings, from the latter period, until that when by the kind interposition of Providence, I was enabled finally to obtain a passage to my native country; and to bid an adieu, and I hope and trust a final one, to that Island, where I had endured a complication of miseries beyond the power of description.
The peace produced similar effects to that of 1783—thousands were thrown out of employ and the streets of London thronged with soldiers seeking means to earn a humble subsistence. The cry of “Old Chairs to Mend,” (and that too at a very reduced price) was reiterated through the streets of London by numbers who but the month before were at Waterloo fighting the battles of their country—which, so seriously effected my business in this line, that toobtain food (and that of the most humble kind) for my family, I was obliged once more to have recourse to the collecting of scraps of rags, paper, glass, and such other articles of however trifling value that I could find in the streets.
It was at this distressing period, that, in consequence of the impossibility of so great a number who had been discharged from the service procuring a livelihood by honest means, that instances of thefts, and daring robberies, increased throughout Great Britain three fold. Bands of highwaymen and robbers hovered about the vicinity of London in numbers which almost defied suppression; many were taken and executed or transported; but this seemed to render the rest only the more desperately bold and cruel, while house-breaking and assassination were daily perpetrated with new arts and outrages in the very capital. Nor were the starving condition of the honest poor, who were to be met with at all times of day and in every street, seeking something to appease their hunger, less remarkable—unable to procure by any means within their power sustenance sufficient to support nature, some actually became the victims of absolute starvation, as the following melancholly instance will show:—a poor man exhausted by want; dropped down in the street—those who were passing unacquainted with the frequency of such melancholly events, at first thought him intoxicated; but after languishing half an hour, he expired. On the following day, an inquest was heldon the body, and the verdict of the jury not giving satisfaction to the Coroner, they adjourned to the next day.—In the interim, two respectable surgeons were engaged to open the body, in which not a particle of nutriment was to be found except a little yellow substance, supposed to be grass, or some crude vegetable; which the poor man had swallowed to appease the cravings of nature!—this lamentable proof confirmed the opinion of the jury, that he died for want of the necessaries of life, and gave their verdict accordingly.
Miserable as was the fate of this man and that of many others, mine was but little better, and would ultimately have been the same, had it not been for the assistance afforded me by my only remaining child, a lad but seven years of age. I had now arrived to an advanced age of life, and although possessing an extraordinary constitution for one of my years, yet by my incessant labours to obtain subsistence for my family, I brought on myself a severe fit of sickness, which confined me three weeks to my chamber; in which time my only sustenance was the produce of a few half pennies, which my poor wife and little son had been able to earn each day by, disposing of matches of their own make, and in collecting and disposing of the articles of small value, of which I have before made mention, which were to be found thinly scattered in the streets. In three weeks it was the will of providence so far to restore to me my strength, as to enable me oncemore to move abroad in search of something to support nature.
The tenement which I at this time rented and which was occupied by my family, was a small and wretched apartment of a garret, and for which I had obligated myself to pay sixpence per day, which was to be paid at the close of every week; and in case of failure (agreeable to the laws or customs of the land) my furniture was liable to be seized. In consequence of my illness, and other misfortunes, I fell six weeks in arrears for rent; and having returned one evening with my wife and son, from the performance of our daily task, my kind readers may judge what my feelings must have been to find our room stripped of every article (of however trifling value) that it contained!—alas, oh heavens! to what a state of wretchedness were we now reduced! if there was any thing wanting to complete our misery, this additional drop to the cup of our afflictions, more than sufficed. Although the real value of all that they had taken from me, or rather robbed me of, would not if publicly disposed of, have produced a sum probably exceeding five dollars; yet it was our all, except the few tattered garments that we had on our backs, and were serviceable and all important to us in our impoverished situation. Not an article of bedding of any kind was left us on which to repose at night, or a chair or stool on which we could rest our wearied limbs! but, as destitute as we were, andnaked as they had left our dreary apartment, we had no other abiding place.
With a few half penny’s which were jointly our hard earnings of that day, I purchased a peck of coal and a few pounds of potatoes; which while the former furnished us with a little fire, the latter served for the moment to appease our hunger—by a poor family in an adjoining room I was obliged with the loan of a wooden bench, which served as a seat and a table, from which we partook of our homely fare. In this woeful situation, hovering over a few half consumed coals, we spent a sleepless night. The day’s dawn brought additional afflictions—my poor wife who had until this period borne her troubles without a sigh or a murmur, and had passed through hardships and sorrows, which nothing but the Supreme Giver of patience and fortitude, and her perfect confidence in him, could have enabled her to sustain; yet so severe and unexpected a stroke as the last, she could not withstand—I found her in the morning gloomy and dejected, and so extremely feeble as to be hardly able to descend the stairs.
We left our miserable habitation in the morning, with hopes that the wretched spectacle that we presented, weak and emaciated as we were, would move some to pity and induce them to impart that relief which our situations so much required—it would however be almost endless to recount the many rebuffs we met with in our attempts to craveassistance. Some few indeed were more merciful, and whatever their opinion might be of the cause of our misery, the distress they saw us in excited their charity, and for their own sakes were induced to contribute a trifle to our wants. We alternately happened among savages and christians, but even the latter, too much influenced by appearances, were very sparing of their bounty.
With the small trifle that had been charitably bestowed on us, we returned at night to our wretched dwelling, which, stripped as it had been, could promise us but little more than a shelter, and where we spent the night very much as the preceding one.—Such was the debilitated state of my poor wife the ensuing morning, produced by excessive hunger and fatigue, as to render it certain, that sinking under the weight of misery, the hand of death in mercy to her, was about to release her from her long and unparalleled sufferings. I should be afraid of exciting too painful sensations in the minds of my readers, were I to attempt to describe my feelings at this moment, and to paint in all their horror, the miseries which afterward attended me; although so numerous had been my afflictions, that it seemed impossible for any new calamity to be capable of augmenting them;—men accustomed to vicissitudes are not soon dejected, but there are trials which human nature alone cannot surmount—indeed to such a state of wretchedness was I now reduced, that had it not been for my suffering family, life would have beenno longer desirable. The attendance that the helpless situation of my poor wife now demanded, it was not within my power to afford her, as early the next day I was reluctantly driven by hunger abroad in search of something that might serve to contribute to our relief. I left my unfortunate companion, attended by no other person but our little son, destitute of fuel and food, and stretched on an armful of straw, which I had been so fortunate as to provide myself with the day preceding;—the whole produce of my labours this day (which I may safely say was the most melancholly one of my life) amounted to no more than one shilling! which I laid out to the best advantage possible, in the purchase of a few of the necessaries, which the situation of my sick companion most required.
I ought to have mentioned, that previous to this melancholy period, when most severely afflicted, I had been two or three times driven to the necessity of making application to the Overseers of the poor, of the parish in which I resided, for admittance into the Almshouse, or for some assistance, but never with any success; having always been put off by them with some evasive answer or frivolous pretence—sometimes charged by them with being an imposter, and that laziness more than debility and real want, had induced me to make the application—at other times I was told that being an American born, I had no lawful claim on the government of that country for support; that I ought to have made applicationto the American Consul for assistance, whose business it was to assist such of his countrymen whose situations required it.
But such now was my distress, in consequence of the extreme illness of my wife, that I must receive that aid so indispensably necessary at this important crisis, or subject myself to witness a scene no less distressing, than that of my poor wretched wife, actually perishing for the want of that care and nourishment which it was not in my power to afford her! Thus situated I was induced to renew my application to the Overseer for assistance, representing to him the deplorable situation of my family, who were actually starving for the want of that sustenance which it was not in my power to procure for them; and what I thought would most probably effect his feelings, described to him the peculiar and distressing situation of my wife, the hour of whose dissolution was apparently fast approaching—but, I soon found that I was addressing one who possessed a heart callous to the feelings of humanity—one, whose feelings were not to be touched by a representation of the greatest misery with which human nature could be afflicted. The same cruel observations were made as before, that I was a vile impostor who was seeking by imposition to obtain that support in England, which my own country had withheld from me—that the American Yankees had fought for and obtained their Independence, and yet were not independent enough to support their own poor!—thatGreat Britain would find enough to do, was she to afford relief to every d—d yankee vagabond that should apply for it!—fortunately for this abusive British scoundrel, I possessed not now that bodily strength and activity, which I could once boast of, or the villain (whether within his Majesty’s dominions or not) should have received on the spot a proof of “Yankee Independence” for his insolence.
Failing in my attempts to obtain the assistance which the lamentable situation of my wife required, I had recourse to other means—I waited on two or three gentlemen in my neighbourhood, who had been represented to me as persons of humanity, and entreated them to visit my wretched dwelling, and to satisfy themselves by occular demonstration, of the state of my wretchedness, especially that of my dying companion—they complied with my request, and were introduced by me to a scene, which for misery and distress, they declared surpassed every thing that they had ever before witnessed!—they accompanied me immediately to one in whom was invested the principal government of the poor of the parish, and represented to him, the scene of human misery which they had been an eye witness to—whereupon an order was issued to have my wife conveyed to the Hospital, which was immediately done and where she was comfortably provided for—but, alas, the relief which her situation had so much required, had been too long deferred—her deprivation and sufferings had been too great to admit of her being nowrestored to her former state of health, or relieved by any thing that could be administered—after her removal to the Hospital, she lingered a few days in a state of perfect insensibility, and then closed her eyes forever on a world, where for many years, she had been the unhappy subject of almost constant affliction.
I felt very sensibly the irreparable loss of one who had been my companion in adversity, as well as in prosperity; and when blessed with health, had afforded me by her industry that assistance, without which, the sufferings of our poor children would have been greater if possible than what they were. My situation was now truly a lonely one, bereaved of my wife, and all my children except one; who, although but little more than seven years of age, was a child of that sprightliness and activity, as to possess himself with a perfect knowledge of the chair-bottoming business, and by which he earned not only enough (when work could be obtained) to furnish himself with food, but contributed much to the relief of his surviving parent, when confined by illness and infirmity.
We continued to improve the apartment from which my wife had been removed, until I was so fortunate as to be able to rent a ready furnished apartment (as it was termed) at four shillings and sixpence per week. Apartments of this kind are not uncommon in London, and are intended to accommodate poor families, situated as we were, who hadbeen so unfortunate as to be stripped of every thing but the cloathes on their backs by their unfeeling landlords. These “ready furnished rooms” were nothing but miserable apartments in garrets, and contain but few more conveniences than what many of our common prisons in America afford—a bunk of straw, with two or three old blankets, a couple of chairs, and a rough table about three feet square, with an article or two of iron ware in which to cook our victuals (if we should be so fortunate as to obtain any) was the contents of the “ready furnished apartment” that we were now about to occupy—but even with these few conveniences, it was comparatively a palace to the one we had for several weeks past improved.
When my health would permit, I seldom failed to visit daily the most public streets of the city, and from morning to night cry for old chairs to mend—accompanied by my son Thomas, with a bundle of flags, as represented in the Plate annexed to this volume. If we were so fortunate as to obtain a job of work more than we could complete in the day, with the permission of the owner, I would convey the chairs on my back to my humble dwelling, and with the assistance of my little son, improve the evening to complete the work, which would produce us a few half pennies to purchase something for our breakfast the next morning—but it was very seldom that instances of this kind occurred, as it was more frequently the case that after crying for old chairs to mend, the whole day, we were obliged to return, hungry andweary, and without a single half penny in our pockets, to our humble dwelling, where we were obliged to fast until the succeeding day; and indeed there were some instances in which we were compelled to fast two or three days successively, without being able to procure a single job of work.—The rent I had obligated myself to pay every night, and frequently when our hunger was such as hardly to be endured, I was obliged to reserve the few pennies that I was possessed of to apply to this purpose.
In our most starving condition when every other plan failed, my little son would adopt the expedient of sweeping the public cause-ways (leading from one walk to the other) where he would labour the whole day, with the expectation of receiving no other reward than what the generosity of gentlemen, who had occasion to cross, would induce them to bestow in charity, and which seldom amounted to more than a few pennies—sometime the poor boy would toil in this way the whole day, without being so fortunate as to receive a single half penny—it was then he would return home sorrowful and dejected, and while he attempted to conceal his own hunger, with tears in his eyes, would lament his hard fortune in not being able to obtain something to appease mine.—While he was thus employed I remained at home, but not idle, being as busily engaged in making matches, with which (when he returned home empty handed) we were obliged as fatigued as we were, to visit the markets to expose for sale, andwhere we were obliged sometimes to tarry until eleven o’clock at night, before we could meet with a single purchaser.
Having one stormy night of a Saturday, visited the market with my son for this purpose, and after exposing ourselves to the chilling rain until past 10 o’clock, without being able either of us to sell a single match, I advised the youth (being thinly clad) to return home feeling disposed to tarry myself a while longer, in hopes that better success might attend me, as having already fasted one day and night, it was indispensably necessary that I should obtain something to appease our hunger the succeeding day (Sunday) or what seemed almost impossible, to endure longer its torments! I remained until the clock struck eleven, the hour at which the market closed, and yet had met with no better success! It is impossible to describe the sensation of despondency which overwhelmed me at this moment! I now considered it as certain that I must return home with nothing wherewith to satisfy our craving appetites—and with my mind filled with the most heart rending reflections, I was about to return, when, Heaven seemed pleased to interpose in my behalf, and to send relief when I little expected it;—passing a beef stall I attracted the notice of the butcher, who viewing me, probably as I was, a miserable object of pity, emaciated by long fastings, and clad in tattered garments, from which the water was fast dripping, and judging no doubt by my appearance that on no onecould charity be more properly bestowed, he threw into my basket a beeve’s heart, with the request that I would depart with it immediately for my home, if any I had!—I will not attempt to describe the joy that I felt on this occasion, in so unexpectedly meeting with that relief, which my situation so much required. I hastened home with a much lighter heart than what I had anticipated; and when I arrived, the sensations of joy exhibited by my little son on viewing the prize that I bore, produced effects as various as extraordinary; he wept, then laughed and danced with transport.
The reader must suppose that while I found it so extremely difficult to earn enough to preserve us from starvation, I had little to spare for cloathing and other necessaries; and that this was really my situation, I think no one will doubt, when I positively declare that to such extremities was I driven, that being unable to pay a barber for shaving me, I was obliged to adopt the expedient for more than two years, of clipping my beard as close as possible with a pair of scissors which I kept expressly for that purpose!—as strange and laughable as the circumstance may appear to some, I assure the reader that I state facts, and exaggerate nothing. As regarded our cloathes, I can say no more than that they were the best that we could procure, and were such as persons in our situations were obliged to wear—they served to conceal our nakedness, but would have proved insufficient to have protected our bodies,from the inclemency of the weather of a colder climate. Such indeed was sometimes our miserable appearance, clad in tattered garments, that while engaged in our employment in crying for old chairs to mend, we not only attracted the notice of many, but there were instances in which a few half pennies unsolicited were bestowed on us in charity—an instance of this kind happened one day as I was passing through threadneedle street; a gentleman perceiving by the appearance of the shoes that I wore, that they were about to quit me, put a half crown in my hand, and bid me go and cry “old shoes to mend!”
In long and gloomy winter evenings, when unable to furnish myself with any other light than that emitted by a little fire of sea coal, I would attempt to drive away melancholy by amusing my son with an account of my native country, and of the many blessings there enjoyed by even the poorest class of people—of their fair fields producing a regular supply of bread—their convenient houses, to which they could repair after the toils of the day, to partake of the fruits of their labour, safe from the storms and the cold, and where they could lay down their heads to rest without any to molest them or to make them afraid. Nothing could have been better calculated to excite animation in the mind of the poor child, than an account so flattering of a country which had given birth to his father, and to which he had received my repeated assurances he should accompany me as soon as an opportunity should present—afterexpressing his fears that the happy day was yet far distant, with a deep sigh he would exclaim “would to God it wasto-morrow!”
About a year after the decease of my wife, I was taken extremely ill, insomuch that at one time my life wasdespairedof, and had it not been for the friendless and lonely situation in which such an event would have placed my son, I should have welcomed the hour of my dissolution and viewed it as a consummation rather to be wished than dreaded; for so great had been my sufferings of mind and body, and the miseries to which I was still exposed, that life had really become a burden to me—indeed I think it would have been difficult to have found on the face of the earth a being more wretched than I had been for the three years past.
During my illness my only friend on earth was my son Thomas, who did every thing to alleviate my wants within the power of his age to do—sometimes by crying for old chairs to mend (for he had become as expert a workman at this business as his father) and sometimes by sweeping the cause-ways, and by making and selling matches, he succeeded in earning each day a trifle sufficient to procure for me and himself a humble sustenance. When I had so far recovered as to be able to creep abroad, and the youth had been so fortunate as to obtain a good job, I would accompany him, although very feeble, and assist him in conveying the chairs home—it was on such occasions that my dear child would manifesthis tenderness and affection for me, by insisting (if there were four chairs) that I should carry but one, and he would carry the remaining three, or in that proportion if a greater or less number.
From the moment that I had informed him of the many blessings enjoyed by my countrymen of every class, I was almost constantly urged by my son to apply to the American Consul for a passage—it was in vain that I represented to him, that if such an application was attended with success and the opportunity should be improved by me, it must cause our separation, perhaps forever; as he would not be permitted to accompany me at the expense of government—“never mind me (he would reply) do not father suffer any more on my account; if you can only succeed in obtaining a passage to a country where you can enjoy the blessings that you have described to me, I may hereafter be so fortunate as to meet with an opportunity to join you—and if not, it will be a consolation to me, whatever my afflictions may be, to think that yours have ceased!” My ardent wish to return to America, was not less than that of my son, but could not bear the thoughts of a separation; of leaving him behind exposed to all the miseries peculiar to the friendless poor of that country;—he was a child of my old age, and from whom I had received too many proofs of his love and regard for me, not to feel that parental affection for him to which his amiable disposition entitled him.
I was indeed unacquainted with the place of residenceof the American Consul—I had made frequent enquiries, but found no one that could inform me correctly where he might be found; but so anxious was my son that I should spend the remnant of my days in that country where I should receive (if nothing more) a christian burial at my decease, and bid adieu forever to a land where I had spent so great a portion of my life in sorrow, and many years had endured the lingering tortures of protracted famine; that he ceased not to enquire of everyone with whom he was acquainted, until he obtained the wished for information. Having learned the place of residence of the American Consul, and fearful of the consequences of delay, he would give me no peace until I promised that I would accompany him there the succeeding day, if my strength would admit of it; for although I had partially recovered from a severe fit of sickness, yet I was still so weak and feeble as to be scarcely able to walk.
My son did not forget to remind me early the next morning of my promise, and to gratify him more than with an expectation of meeting with much success I set out with him, feeble as I was, for the Consul’s. The distance was about two miles, and before I had succeeded in reaching half the way, I had wished myself a dozen times safe home again, and had it not been for the strong persuasions of my son to the contrary, I certainly should have returned.—I was never before so sensible of the effects of my long sufferings—which had produced that degree of bodilyweakness and debility, as to leave me scarcely strength sufficient to move without the assistance of my son; who, when he found me reeling or halting through weakness, would support me until I had gained sufficient strength to proceed.
Although the distance was but two miles, yet such was the state of my weakness, that although we started early in the morning, it was half past 3 o’clockP.M.when we reached the Consul’s office, when I was so much exhausted as to be obliged to ascend the steps on my hands and knees. Fortunately we found the Consul in, and on my addressing him and acquainting him with the object of my visit, he seemed at first unwilling to credit the fact that I was an American born—but after interrogating me sometime, as to the place of my nativity, the cause which first brought me to England, &c. he seemed to be more satisfied; he however observed (on being informed that the lad who accompanied me was my son) that he could procure a passage for me, but not for him, as being born in England, the American government would consider him a British subject, and under no obligation to defray the expence of his passage—and as regarded myself, he observed, that he had his doubts, so aged and infirm as I appeared to be, whether I should live to reach America, if I should attempt it.
I cannot say that I was much surprised at the observations of the Consul, as they exactly agreed with what I had anticipated—and as anxious as I thenfelt to visit once more my native country, I felt determined not to attempt it, unless I could be accompanied by my son, and expressed myself to this effect to the Consul—the poor lad appeared nearly overcome with grief when he saw me preparing to return without being able to effect my object; indeed so greatly was he affected, and such the sorrow that he exhibited, that he attracted the notice (and I believe I may add the pity) of the Consul—who, after making some few enquiries as regarded his disposition, age, &c. observed that he could furnish the lad with a passage at his own expense, which he should have no objection to do if I would consent to his living with a connection of his (theConsul,) on his arrival in America—“but (continued he,) in such a case you must be a while separated, for it would be imprudent for you to attempt the passage until you have gained more strength—I will pay your board, where by better living than you have been latterly accustomed to, you may have a chance to recruit—but your son must take passage on board the London Packet, which sails for Boston the day after to-morrow.”
Although but a few moments previous, my son would have thought no sacrifice too great, that would have enabled us to effect our object in obtaining passages to America; yet, when he found that instead of himself, I was to be left for a while behind, he appeared at some loss how to determine—but on being assured by the Consul that if my life was spared I should soon join him, he consented; and being furnishedby the Consul with a few necessary articles of cloathing, I the next day accompanied him on board the packet which was to convey him to America—and after giving him the best advice that I was capable of as regarded his behaviour and deportment while on his passage, and on his arrival in America, I took my leave of him and saw him not again until I met him on the wharf on my arrival at Boston.
When I parted with the Consul he presented me with half a crown, and directions where to apply for board—it was at a public Inn where I found many American seamen, who, like myself, were boarded there at the Consul’s expence, until passages could be obtained for them to America—I was treated by them with much civility, and by hearing them daily recount their various and remarkable adventures, as well as by relating my own, I passed my time more agreeably than what I probably should have done in other society.
In eight weeks I was so far recruited by good living, as in the opinion of the Consul, to be able to endure the fatigues of a passage to my native country, and which was procured for me on board the ship Carterian, bound to New-York. We set sail on the 5th April, 1823, and after a passage of 42 days, arrived safe at our port of destination. After having experienced in a foreign land so much ill-treatment from those from whom I could expect no mercy, and for no other fault than that of being an American, I could not but flatter myself that when I bid adieu to thatcountry, I should no longer be the subject of unjust persecution, or have occasion to complain of ill treatment from those whose duty it was to afford me protection. But the sad reverse which I experienced while on board the Carterian, convinced me of the incorrectness of my conclusions. For my country’s sake, I am happy that I have it in my power to say that the crew of this ship, was not composed altogether of Americans—there was a mixture of all nations; and among them some so vile, and destitute of every humane principle, as to delight in nothing so much as to sport with the infirmities of one, whose grey locks ought at least to have protected him. By these unfeeling wretches (who deserve not the name of sailors) I was not only most shamefully ill-used on the passage, but was robbed of some necessary articles of cloathing, which had been charitably bestowed on me by the American Consul.
We arrived in the harbour of New-York about midnight, and such were the pleasing sensations produced by the reflection that on the morrow I should be indulged with the priviledge of walking once more on American ground after an absence of almost 50 years, and that but a short distance now separated me from my dear son, that it was in vain that I attempted to close my eyes to sleep. Never was the morning’s dawn so cheerfully welcomed by me. I solicited and obtained the permission of the captain to be early set on shore, and on reaching which, I did not forget to offer up my unfeigned thanks tothat Almighty Being, who had not only sustained me during my heavy afflictions abroad, but had finally restored me to my native country. The pleasure that I enjoyed in viewing the streets thronged by those, who, although I could not claim as acquaintances, I could greet as my countrymen, was unbounded, I felt a regard for almost every object that met my eyes, because it was American.
Great as was my joy on finding myself once more among my countrymen, I felt not a little impatient for the arrival of the happy moment when I should be able to meet my son. Agreeable to the orders which I received from the American Consul, I applied to the Custom House in New-York for a passage from thence to Boston, and with which I was provided on board a regular packet which sailed the morning ensuing—in justice to the captain, I must say that I was treated by him as well as by all on board, with much civility. We arrived at the Long Wharf in Boston after a short and pleasant passage. I had been informed by the Consul, previous to leaving London, of the name of the gentleman with whom my son probably lived, and a fellow passenger on board the packet was so good as to call on and inform him of my arrival—in less than fifteen minutes after receiving the information my son met me on the wharf! Reader, you will not believe it possible for me to describe my feelings correctly at this joyful moment! if you are a parent, you may have some conception of them; but a faint one howeverunless you and an only and beloved child have been placed in a similar situation.
After acquainting myself with the state of my boy’s health, &c. my next enquiry was whether he found the country as it had been described by me, and how he esteemed it—“well, extremely well (was his reply) since my arrival I have fared like a Prince, I have meat every day, and have feasted on American puddings and pies (such as you used to tell me about) until I have become almost sick of them!” I was immediately conducted by him to the house of the gentleman with whom he lived, and by whom I was treated with much hospitality—in the afternoon of the day succeeding (by the earnest request of my son) I visited Bunker Hill, which he had a curiosity to view, having heard it so frequently spoken of by me while in London, as the place where the memorable battle was fought and in which I received my wounds.
I continued in Boston about a fortnight, and then set out on foot to visit once more my native State. My son accompanied me as far as Roxbury, when I was obliged reluctantly to part with him, and proceeded myself no farther on my journey that day than Jamaica plains, where at a public house I tarried all night—from thence I started early the next morning and reached Providence about 5 o’-clock in the afternoon, and obtained lodgings at a public Inn in High-Street.
It may not be improper here to acquaint my readersthat as I had left my father possessed of very considerable property, and of which at his decease I thought myself entitled to a portion equal to that of other children, which (as my father was very economical in the management of his affairs) I knew could not amount to a very inconsiderable sum, it was to obtain this if possible, that I became extremely anxious to visit immediately the place of my nativity—accordingly the day after I arrived in Providence, I hastened to Cranston, to seek my connexions if any were to be found; and if not to seek among the most aged of the inhabitants, some one who had not forgotten me, and who might be able to furnish me with the sought for information. But, alas, too soon were blasted my hopeful expectations of finding something in reserve for me, that might have afforded me a humble support, the few remaining years of my life. It was by a distant connection that I was informed that my brothers had many years since removed to a distant part of the country—that having credited a rumour in circulation of my death, at the decease of my father had disposed of the real estate of which he died possessed, and had divided the proceeds equally among themselves! This was another instance of adverse fortune that I had not anticipated!—it was indeed a circumstance so foreign from my mind that I felt myself for the first time, unhappy, since my return to my native country, and even believed myself now doomed to endure, among my own countrymen (for whose libertiesI had fought and bled) miseries similar to those that had attended me for many years in Europe. With these gloomy forebodings I returned to Providence, and contracted for board with the gentleman at whose house I had lodged the first night of my arrival in town, and to whom for the kind treatment that I have received from him and his family, I shall feel till death under the deepest obligations that gratitude can dictate; for I can truly say of him, that I was a stranger and he took me in, I was hungry and naked, and he fed and cloathed me.
As I had never received any remuneration for services rendered, and hardships endured in the cause of my country, I was now obliged, as my last resort, to petition Congress to be included in that number of the few surviving soldiers of the Revolution, for whose services they had been pleased to grant pensions—and I would to God that I could add, for the honour of my country, that the application met with its deserving success—but, although accompanied by the deposition of a respectable gentleman (which deposition I have thought proper to annex to my narrative) satisfactorily confirming every fact as therein stated—yet, on no other principle, than thatI was absent from the country when the pension law passed—my Petition was REJECTED!!! Reader, I have been for 30 years (as you will perceive by what I have stated in the foregoing pages) subject, in aforeigncountry, to almost all the miseries with which poor human nature is capable of being inflicted—yet,in no one instance did I ever feel so great degree of a depression of spirits, as when the fate of my Petition was announced to me! I love too well the country which gave me birth, and entertain too high a respect for those employed in its government, to reproach them with ingratitude; yet, it is my sincere prayer that this strange and unprecedented circumstance, of withholding from me that reward which they have so generally bestowed on others, may never be told in Europe, or published in the streets of London, least it reach the ears of some who had the effrontery to declare to me personally, that for the active part that I had taken in the “rebellious war” misery and starvation would ultimately be my reward!