CHAPTER XXVIII

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THE GUNNER WHO GOVERNED NEW YORK.

AT the foot of Broadway, in New York (the principal street during the American War, as it is yet, although eclipsed in point of size by those known as Avenues,) there was, and there is, a small patch of turf giving its name to the surrounding houses, and known as the Bowling Green.

On this Green there used to stand a statue, in lead, of His Majesty King George III., erected by a mob, to celebrate a victory over His Majesty's Government in a dispute in which they believed they had the King's sympathy; and on this Green, in July, 1776, this same statue lay prostrate, thrown down by a similar mob, in anger because their wishes had been thwarted. It was their boast afterwards that forty-two thousand bullets were made out of King George's statue to fire at King George's soldiers. But although the mob ran riot in the city on that day, it must not be imagined that there was no loyalty in New York. There was, among all the respectable classes, a feeling of shame and sadness, which showed itself in the closed churches and darkened windows, and, later on, in the joyous welcome which the British troops enabled them openly to give to the representatives of the British connection. New York, for many reasons, was more loyal than any other part of the revolted colonies, and there were many opportunities of displaying this in the period of its occupation by the British forces,—an occupation which, commencing in 1776, continued uninterruptedly for over seven years, until the war was at an end, and the colonies were lost.

Near this Bowling Green lived, during the British occupation, most of the military officials; and among others, in the years 1779 and 1780, lived James Pattison, Colonel in the Royal Artillery, Major-General in His Majesty's forces in America, and Commandant of the City and Garrison of New York. And the narrative of James Pattison's life is one which must occupy a very prominent place in a History of the Regiment to which he belonged.

He was the second son of a merchant in London, who owned the estate at Woolwich and Plumstead, known as the Burrage Estate. He married a daughter of the celebrated Albert Borgard, and was repeatedly selected for appointments requiring great tact and firmness, two qualities which he possessed in an eminent degree. Among others, he was, as a Lieutenant-Colonel, appointed Lieutenant-Governor of the Royal Military Academy, and did more than any of his predecessors, or most of those who have succeeded him, to introduce a proper discipline among the Cadets and their instructors, while, at the same time, he raised the tone of the institution, and asserted, to an unheard-of extent, its independence of the authorities of the Woolwich garrison.

He served with distinction in Flanders, and at the end of the Seven Years' War he was chosen to command the companies selected for service in Portugal. When so employed, he won the respect of all by his dignified firmness and courtesy, and laid the foundation of an affection towards himself from the officers serving under him which never even waned. On his staff in Portugal was a subaltern bearing a name honoured then as now in the Artillery,—Adye. Lieutenant S. P. Adye was afterwards, as a Captain-Lieutenant, aide-de-camp to General Pattison when in command of the Royal Artillery in New York, and was a most able and energetic staff officer.

In 1769 Colonel Pattison was sent to Venice to superintend the organization of the Venetian Artillery. From private letters, which are still in existence, it would appear that he had a very difficult task, not so much with the Artillerymen as with the authorities, who were disposed to break faith with him. But as he simply threatened to resign if they did not keep their promises, he obtained what he wanted; and it may be said of James Pattison that he never wanted more than justice.

General Pattison, as has already been mentioned, succeeded Colonel Cleaveland in the command of the Fourth Battalion of the Royal Artillery in America. He succeeded one who was a soldier, but no statesman,—who conceived that the utmost expected of him was to despise and defeat any enemy who might be opposed to him. General Pattison was equally sensible of his duty as far as military operations were concerned; but he went beyond his predecessor in the liberal and statesmanlike views he took of the state of America. In his official reports, it is needless to say, he did not enter into details beyond his province; but his private correspondence is a mine of wealth to the student of the great American War, and it has been placed at the disposal of the compiler of this work by the representatives of the family. The following letter is a dispassionate and valuable contribution to the history of those stirring times, and reveals at once the able character of the writer and the state of the American Colonies. In writing to his brother from Philadelphia, in December, 1777, he says:

"I wish it was in my power to give you very pleasing accounts of the state of affairs in this distracted country; but, indeed, it is almost a distracting consideration for anyone who knows them, as we do by _experience_, to think of them. Ministers have been deceived, and have never known the true state of this country; if they had, they never would have entered into a war with it. I own I had very mistaken notions myself when in England of reducing America to obedience by conquest. I have totally changed my sentiments, not that I would wish them to be known but to yourself, as it might not be prudent for me to declare them; but I will confess to _you_ that, by what I have seen and heard, I am fully of opinion that all the efforts Great Britain can make will never effectually conquer this great continent, in which, notwithstanding all that has been said of _friends_ to Government here, and _friends_ to Government there, yet there is scarcely one to be met with from one end of it to the other. We have not only armies to combat with, but a whole country, where every man, woman, and even child is your enemy, and, in fact, do in one shape or another act as such. One Royal Army has been already obliged to do what is not in our History to be met with,—to lay down their arms, and surrender prisoners of war; another Army at New York in a state of alarm; and the Grand Army here penned up within the narrow limits of two or three miles, and cut off from all provisions, but what must be gained by fighting for with large foraging parties sent out from time to time for that purpose. In short, unless thirty thousand men more, added to the thirty thousand we already have, can be sent hither early in the year, the wisest thing would be to get rid of the contest in the best manner you can, and, if it was possible to persuade them to revoke their Declaration of Independence, then to make one general Act of Oblivion—give up entirely the point of taxation, and restore the whole country to the state it was in 1763. These are my politics, though I would not wish them to be known. I am much afraid the prosecution of the war must prove ruinous and destructive to Great Britain."

These words have a special value, as coming from one whose official position in command of the Artillery gave him favourable opportunities for forming an opinion. Happily, among British officers, opinions never interfere with the performance of duties, however hopeless; and it will be found that no one was more energetic than General Pattison, both at Philadelphia and in his command at New York. At the same time, we learn from this letter three things—the success of the cry against England commenced in Massachusetts, and swollen by hasty and foolish treatment on the part of England; the falsehood of the Government statements at home; and the great difficulties which embarrassed the English Army in its operations, even thus early in the war.

But in this chapter the condition of New York during the British occupation is the subject of consideration; and perhaps it cannot be better realized than by imagining oneself in the company of the gallant General, as he went his daily rounds. Hanging about in the vicinity of his house are orderlies, in different costume; the gunner, in full dress, with his gold-laced cocked-hat, with _black_ feather, as was the custom then in the 4th Battalion, his hair clubbed and powdered, white stock, white breeches, and white stockings, and armed with a carbine and a bayonet; or, perhaps, in the marvellous undress invented for the Battalion by Colonel Cleaveland—a blue jacket and brown trousers. Among the others is also to be seen an occasional negro, in no particular uniform at all, one of a company of Virginian blacks enrolled for duty with the Artillery and in the Ordnance Yard. In the recent American Civil War many hard things were said of the Northerners for declaring the slaves of the rebels to be free, at a time when the women and children of the South were in their homes alone and unprotected. It is but fair to say that the example followed was our own. During the War of Independence the same course towards the rebels was taken by the British, and an influx of runaway slaves in New York was the result. This, coupled with the decided immigration of Loyalists from other districts, accounts for the great rise in the population of New York during the British occupation, which increased from 17,000 to 30,000. The newspapers of the time teem with advertisements announcing the sale of slaves, but from the fact above mentioned it is evident that they can only apply to the slaves of Loyalists. Some of them are so grotesque as to be worthy of reproduction:

"To be sold, a strong, healthy mulatto girl, about fifteen years of age. Has been used to household work and the care of children. She has both had the small-pox and the measles. For further particulars, apply to Mr. Stevens, _Livery Stable Keeper_, Little Queen-street."

"To be sold, a young negro wench, who has had the small-pox, can cook very well, nineteen years old, and sold for no fault. Lowest price, 70_l._"

And—"For sale, a fine negro boy and a billiard-table."

Doubtless, if one looked in at the places of auction, the poor girl "who is accustomed to the care of children" would be found crying her heart out, while thinking of the charge from which she has been torn, and dreading the unknown future before her; while poor little Sambo would be seen showing his white teeth over the table which has been the dusky marker's little world, and from which he has found that he is not to be separated.

The newspapers of the time, in which the above advertisements appear, are an interesting study. From them one gets an admirable picture of the city during the British occupation—of the business, amusements, and daily routine. One is soon reminded that New York was under martial law. The statute price of the loaf always headed the column, by order of the Major-General commanding, followed by terrible threats against the farmers on Long Island if they did not bring their hay, without further delay, to the city for sale. Notices to the refugees from rebel districts, informing them where they could obtain work, were regularly inserted, for the Commandant would have no idlers in the place. Authority for lotteries was occasionally notified, the proceeds to go to the aged and invalid poor; and theatrical advertisements were frequent.

The Garrison Dramatic Club, whose profits went to assist the soldiers' wives, was composed of officers of the Garrison, who were assisted in their performances by young ladies—daughters of New York merchants—whose parts were played, according to the critics of the time, "with great propriety, spirit, and accuracy." The receipts of the Club in one year, amounted to 9,500_l._, all of which, after deducting unavoidable expenses, was spent in charity.

The rules of the theatre were somewhat arbitrary. Not merely had the places to be secured and paid for before the day of performance, but the takers were compelled to send their servants at half-past four in the afternoon to keep their seats until the curtain rose at seven. It must have been a ludicrous sight during these two hours and a half—that dusky audience with nothing to hear, those crowded spectators with nothing to see.

One of the chief actors in the club was Major Williams, of the Artillery, who was also Brigade-Major of the Garrison. In the Library of the Historical Society in New York there is yet to be found frequent and favourable mention of this officer's rendering of Macbeth and Richard III.

Possibly an undue value may easily be attached to the opinions of an audience which was, doubtless, more or less, composed of the actors' friends; but it has been recorded that nothing was so popular,—no wit, humour, or buffoonery so welcome, even to the gallery,—as hits at the rebels during the performance.

The newspapers of the day were the 'Mercury,' published on Monday; 'Robertson's Loyal American Gazette,' on Thursday; and the 'General Advertiser,' on Friday. But there was one more reliable, and more generally read, than any of these,—the 'Gazette,' published every Wednesday and Saturday, by a man called Rivington, famed for his hospitality and as a _bon vivant_, but who proved eventually to be a traitor. About 1781 he began to see that, under the influence of the French Alliance and dissension in England, the rebel cause was brightening. While, therefore, still continuing to utter the most loyal sentiments in his journal, he supplied the enemy, in rather an ingenious way, with all the latest intelligence. Being a bookbinder as well as publisher, and being wholly unsuspected, he was permitted to send books to the Jerseys and elsewhere for sale. In the binding of the books were concealed despatches for Washington, who was thus supplied with the latest news from New York and England.

From advertisements in the various newspapers, the price of tea during the British occupation would appear to have averaged 18_s._ per lb.; corn varied with the punctuality or otherwise of the convoys from Ireland,—a strange thing to read of in days when America is known as the grain-producing country of the world; and claret, from some reason or other, was cheap and plentiful. There are, in the Royal Artillery Record Office, permit-books of General Pattison's from which the filial affection of the subalterns in the Garrison can be gauged by the amount of claret they received permission to send from New York to their anxious parents.

But, returning to No. 1 Broadway, on the Bowling Green, where the General lived, let the reader accompany him on his rounds. His chestnut horse is at the door, and Captain Adye and Captain-Lieutenant Ford, his Quartermaster, are waiting for him. The house in which he lives was formerly occupied by Sir Henry Clinton, now the Commander of the Forces, and afterwards by General Robertson, the immediate predecessor of General Pattison as Commandant of New York. The next house, No. 3 Broadway, had been occupied by Sir William Howe, on the first occupation of New York by the English forces in 1776, and was destined to be the residence of the arch-renegade, Arnold.

The General is a wiry, muscular man, of about fifty-four years of age;— his staff were mere boys, and yet he outlived them both. The characteristic which struck every one most was his courtly urbanity: every hat which was raised by passers-by was courteously acknowledged; and for every one whom he knew there was a pleasant, kindly word. He looks even brighter and more cheery this morning than usual, and, judging from the barely-suppressed merriment of his staff—when he is not looking—there is evidently some cause for cheerfulness. The joke is this. If James Pattison excels in one thing more than another, it is in correspondence. Last night had found him in a good vein, and his staff are still chuckling over some letters which they had copied this morning. Let three be selected, with a judicious blending of love and war, and let preference be given to the first. The General was, in the strongest and most benevolent sense, a father to his officers; there was no one in whose affairs he was not ready to take an interest; and his sympathy with all under his command is visible in every line of his correspondence. As the student sits among his letter-books, in the Dryasdust Record Offices looking out on the muddy Thames, there are times when, out of the yellow pages and faded writing, there seems to shape itself a figure, which, even at this distance of time, has such a loveable reality about it, that he seems to have known it as a dear friend. In return for the interest the General felt in and showed for his officers, he asked but one thing—their confidence; and the extent of his private correspondence shows that he did not ask in vain.

But there had been an exception,—unconscious, perhaps, but not unnoticed. A giddy subaltern had fallen in love. The General hardly expected to be told of this. In those days, as now, it might be predicated of subalterns that "'tis their nature to!" But this youth resolved to marry, and did not tell his resolution. He was away in Florida; there were no regular posts; perhaps the General might not approve of it; and, besides, those sweet hours of bliss were too dear to be interrupted by extraneous correspondence. So he was married. At first all was happiness. Love was still in every room of the cottage; and the General, like everything else, was forgotten. But there came a day when, in that little cottage, there were "Rooms to let," for Love had taken umbrage at a threadbare ruffian, called Poverty, who had taken up his abode. So, like the Prodigal Son in the Parable, the mournful subaltern remembered his General, and, writing a doleful letter as to the expenses of the married state, suggested a happy arrangement by which his income might be improved. To which the General had overnight penned the following reply. The reader will bear in mind that the General, like St. Peter, was himself also a married man.

"DEAR SIR,

"The letter you favoured me with gives me, at last, an opportunity of congratulating you upon your marriage. I am very sensible it is a state which must be attended by extraordinary expenses, and wish it was in my power to enable you, with perfect ease, to defray them. I would even adopt the mode you propose, of appointing you Quartermaster, if I thought the good of the service required; but as it does not appear to me necessary for every detached company to have a staff annexed to it, I am sure you will have the goodness to excuse my incurring any extraordinary charges upon Government which I could not properly justify.

"I am, with regard, &c., &c."

Another letter which the General had written was to a friend at Woolwich, who superintended the recruiting for the Battalion, which was then much below its establishment. In answer to repeated remonstrances, a few handfuls of men from the other Battalions were sent,—not the best, it is to be feared, if human nature then were like human nature now; and, at last, recruits being no longer obtainable in England, the experiment was tried of recruiting in Ireland, and the first draft was sent to the 4th Battalion. At this time the Irish Artillery, afterwards the 7th Battalion of the Royal Artillery, enjoyed a separate existence, and secured the best recruits in Ireland. The refuse only remained for the Royal Artillery, and the following is the graphic language used by the gallant General in describing the new levies as they landed in New York.

"The drafts have arrived, four having deserted, and one died upon the passage. I should not have been very much afflicted if many of those who landed here had saved me, either by death or desertion, the pain of looking at them, for such warriors of 5 feet 5½ inches I never saw raised before for the service of Artillery.... I presume the reason why so few stand of arms accompanied them was the consideration of these whippers-in and postilions of fellows being unable to bear them: but I must try how far the strength of these diminutive warriors is equal to carry _muskets cut down_, for they shall never appear, while I command them, otherwise than as soldiers.... Hard times, indeed, and great must be the scarcity of men, when the Royal Artillery is obliged to take such reptiles. I would they were back in the bogs from which they sprang."

In less than a hundred years, had the General lived, he would have seen many of even a worse stamp landing here, to swell the army of New York Rowdies,—men who poison the blood of the American commonwealth, making the great Republic break out into hideous and pestilent sores, which in the eyes of the world deface and hide the beauties it so undoubtedly possesses.

The third and last letter to be quoted is a more serious one; and is addressed to the Right Honourable the Board of Ordnance, at this time very wooden-headed, very obstinate, very devoted to every form of circumlocution. Their officials loved then to snub, and carp, and disallow; to thrust on the festive board at any joyous time some hideous skull of pigheaded queries; and to look with suspicion on any one who dared to think for himself. The officials of the Ordnance have passed away; but who shall say that the type is extinct?

Ah! this gunner who governed New York! He had his rough hours with the rebels, and with the citizens, and with his motley army, but the roughest were when the convoys coming in brought the usual budget of stupendous idiocy, written by clerks who knew not, probably, whether America lay to the east or the west of the Tower, but who felt that their duty was to be to the conscientious officer an eternal nightmare.

The good General, who thought of England's interests before anything else, had recently given permission for the pay of the men to be drawn by bills on Messrs. Cox and Mair, the rate of exchange at the time being such as to leave a handsome surplus to the Government on the sale of the bills. But no sooner did the members of the worshipful Board hear of this, than each particular hair stood on end on each individual head, and a letter was despatched to the General reprimanding him for daring to think of himself. Fortunately Messrs. Cox and Mair protected the bills: but no more were drawn, and the General's scheme for saving his country's money was ruthlessly butchered. As luck would have it, the same mail brought to the General letters of commendation from the King and all in authority; and the confirmation of the rank of Major-General, bestowed on him by Sir Henry Clinton for service in the field. This enabled him to quote the satisfaction expressed by others with his conduct, in the commencement of his letter to the Board, thus giving a point to his next dignified sentences, acknowledging their rebuke. "These marks, my Lord and gentlemen, of your displeasure, and the never having received the honour (notwithstanding my unwearied endeavours to deserve it,) of _your_ declared approbation in any instance since I have been entrusted with the direction of your affairs in this service, cannot fail to give me the most sensible mortification. The extensive and complicated command I have is sufficiently onerous of itself, but under the present circumstances the weight becomes less supportable. I should, therefore, be exceedingly glad if I might be permitted to transfer it over to abler hands, who might probably be more fortunate in giving fuller satisfaction."

It is unnecessary to say that the brainless scribes in the Tower were a little quieter after this, and more sparing of their senseless criticism.

Before doing anything else, the General's custom during his morning's ride was to look at the batteries near his house, known then as Fort George and Grand Battery. The former was a regular fortification, and the latter mounted 94 guns. They were situated where the Castle Garden— for the reception of emigrants—and the South Ferry House now stand. They commanded the river between New York and Brooklyn heights, and New York and Staten Island. The fortifications on Brooklyn heights, especially Fort Stirling, had been immensely strengthened by General Pattison, and not a point on New York Island was left unarmed by him. He availed himself of many breast-works and trenches, and of large works like Fort Independence, which the Americans had built when they contemplated the defence, instead of the evacuation of New York: and he strengthened them in the most laborious and efficient manner. To his efforts more than any other's, was the fact due that the City remained unmolested during the whole war. His labours and duties were enormous. His command being co- extensive with the North American continent, he would one day receive demands for powder and guns from Halifax, Nova Scotia, and the next day from Florida, or from Captain Traille in Virginia. Captain Traille was one of those men to be met with even now in the Artillery, a man with a grievance. He had been made _local_ Major, and had applied without success to have the rank made substantive. He took his revenge out of the Government by demanding stores in the wildest manner. The first thing he always did on arriving at a new station was to send in requisitions, as if he were going to fortify Gibraltar.

The soreness on Captain Traille's part appears in other ways in the records of the time. A young gentleman, named Black, who, according to the custom in those days, had carried arms in his company with great distinction, refused a commission in the Artillery offered him by the Master-General, and accepted one instead in Lord Rawdon's New York Volunteers. It is easy to imagine the lad going to his Captain for advice, and finding him brooding over the unfortunate Majority, or calculating how next to worry the authorities with store-demands. And having imagined this, it is not difficult to imagine what the Captain's advice would be.

While talking of stores, it is worthy of mention that at one time so heavy had been the demands on the General from out-stations,

## particularly from Halifax, which was reduced to barely seven rounds a

gun, that there were only 476 barrels of powder left in the whole city and district of New York, under British rule. There was, as is apparent from contemporary correspondence, not a little anxiety on the subject in the Commandant's office.

Although General Pattison was saved much laborious and unpleasant correspondence by having a very competent staff, he occasionally took the pen himself in official differences, even with his regimental subordinates. One, Captain William Johnstone, had entered a remonstrance showing that two of the officers posted to his company were prisoners in the hands of the rebels, and the other two were in England. Had he remained content with a bare statement of facts, he would have done well, but he went on to make insinuations; and after also disparaging the men who had been sent to his Company with the last draft, he concluded by hinting that the climate of Pensacola, where he was stationed, disagreed with him. To whom the General: "As to the idea which you think proper to throw out, and which I cannot but think an extraordinary one, of officers endeavouring to get out of their commands, no such applications have ever been made to me; consequently, I cannot have granted the improper indulgences you allude to; but with respect to indulgences to officers under my command, I must desire to be considered the best judge how far they may be bestowed, consistent with the good of the service.... The men whom you think so bad were not picked out, but impartially drafted; and if any of them carry the marks of bad behaviour on their backs, I hope the end will be answered by their correcting it for the future, and that their good conduct under you will be the means of soon wearing them out.... I am very sorry that the climate of Pensacola disagrees with you so much, but hope that you will soon recover your health."

The reader will now be good enough to accompany the General up Broadway, towards Hester Street, in the Bowery, then one of the extreme streets yet built in New York, and near the spot where the British landed on 16th September, 1776, to occupy the city. It was close to the place where St. Mark's Church now stands; and at that date was marked by the existence of the house of the last Dutch Governor of New York, built of yellow brick, imported from Holland, now unfortunately destroyed. In Hester Street lived Mrs. Douglas, the young wife of as brave a subaltern of Artillery as ever stepped. The General had just received a despatch from Sir Henry Clinton, then engaged in operations up the Hudson, in which young Douglas's bravery, coolness, and skill had been mentioned in the highest terms. Before writing to his subaltern to express the satisfaction he derived from such a report, the General hastened to tell the good news to Mrs. Douglas; thus killing two birds with one stone, for it enabled him to add to his letter a postscript which he knew young Douglas would value, giving all the latest news from his home. It was this thoughtfulness which endeared him to his officers; it is from such little data as this that the student learns how loveable as well as able this gallant officer was. The day shall come—and not so far distant—when the General shall stop in the same street at a door not much farther on, but his face shall be sad, and his step slow, as he mounts the staircase to tell of a young husband lying under the turf near Charlestown, wounded to death in the battle, and dying with his wife's name on his lips, and love for her in his glazing eye. As he enters the room, there shall be that in his face which a woman's wit shall too quickly read, and the cry of a broken heart shall echo on the old man's ears for years to come!

Leaving Hester Street the General rode towards Ranelagh House, then a species of Tea Gardens, out of the city, but only a little east of the present intersection of Anthony Street and West Broadway. About twenty- five years before the British occupation of New York, to which this chapter refers, this house was the residence of Major James, of the Royal Artillery, a man of great taste and considerable private means. He went on one occasion on leave to England; and, during his absence, the celebrated Riot on the arrival of the Stamps took place. A mob, which took the name of the "Sons of Liberty," having first burnt the Lieutenant-Governor in effigy, and broken his Coach of State to pieces, went off playfully to Major James's unprotected house, burned his valuable library and large collection of works of art, and ruined his beautiful garden. A few months later, it became a public-house, kept by one John Jones, who sent fireworks off in the evening, and by day and night gratified the thirst of the Sons of Liberty. It was a curious heaping of coals of fire, that a few years later it should fall to this very Major James—after a six weeks' passage from Plymouth, to bring the joyful news of the repeal of the Stamp Act. Ranelagh House had become during the War a great place for recruiting for the various Regiments raised for the King's service in New York. During General Pattison's command, no less than 4000 Loyalist Volunteers were doing duty in the city, and 3000 more were away on duty in the South. Some statistics regarding these volunteer corps may be interesting. The New Jersey Gentlemen Volunteers, embodied—as the recruiting notices said—"during this wanton rebellion," received each 20 dollars bounty, and "everything necessary to complete a gentleman soldier;" Lord Rawdon's Ireland Volunteers received each 30_s._ bounty; and men were tempted to enlist into Colonel Simcoe's Queen's Ranger Hussars by the promise of "an elegant horse, cloathing &c., to the amount of 40 guineas: the bringer to get 2_l._ 2_s._" Men enlisting into the regular army got one guinea bounty; and on one occasion when men were wanted for regiments in the West Indies, the married men of New York were tempted by the offer of 5_s._ a week for the husband, 3_s._ 9_d._ a week for his wife, and 2_s._ 6_d._ a week for each child, over and above prize-money.

Side by side with these various notices, as well as on every public place and in every newspaper, an intimation was to be found, characteristic of the General's method and accuracy, calling upon any one who had any claim against the Royal Artillery, or the Ordnance, to submit it without delay. This same method is visible in all his internal civil arrangements, showing that he possessed admirable qualifications for the post of Home Secretary as well as General. He ordered every stranger on arrival in the city to report himself on pain of suspicion; the citizens had to form a nightly watch in their respective wards, subject to 24 hours' imprisonment, or 1 dollar fine, if absent, in addition to making up the duty; each chimney had to be swept once a month under penalty of a 5_l._ fine; a certain number, only, of public- houses was licensed, on the recommendation of the principal officers of the Army and Navy, or of respectable inhabitants; and any one selling liquor without a licence was fined 5_l._ and the money given to the poor. All carmen were obliged to have licences; and if any one overcharged his fare, he was fined 40_s._, one half going to the poor, and the other half to the informer.

A favourite punishment for misdemeanours and theft was banishment beyond the lines, accompanied by further severe punishment if the offender should return. The inhabitants were liable to confinement in the main- guard, but their cases had to be inquired into by the civil magistrates before 11 A.M. on the following day. Negro slaves and others deemed worthy of corporal punishment were sent to a court-martial; and able- bodied offenders were not unfrequently sent on board the Admiral's Fleet.

The General's arrangements for the various ferries were excellent, and all the profits went to the poor. Boatmen had to take out licences, and in event of overcharge they were punished in the same way as the carmen. Auctioneers had not merely to provide themselves with licences, but also to find sureties to the amount of 5000_l._ New York currency. And at any meeting of the vestry which concerned the disbursement of public money, the Mayor was compelled to be present, and make a report to the Commandant, as well as to see that his wishes were complied with.

A good deal of trouble arose from what was called the Neutral Ground, extending some 30 miles above the Island of New York, and not included in the lines of either army. It was a fertile and populous country, but much infested by bands of plunderers, called cow-boys and skinners. The cow-boys lived within the British lines, and bought, or stole, cattle for the use of the troops. The rendezvous of the skinners was within the American lines. They professed to be great patriots, making it their ostensible business to plunder those who refused to take the oath of allegiance to the State of New York. But they were ready in fact to plunder any one, and the cattle they thus obtained were often sold to the cow-boys in exchange for dry goods from New York. It was when traversing this neutral ground, that the unfortunate Major André was captured. By the way, the General in his morning's ride passed the house where André was to dine the evening before he should start on his ill- fated journey. It was an old Dutch house which remained standing until 1850, near the present intersection of 2nd Avenue and 34th Street; and was occupied during the British occupation, as an officer's quarter, by Colonel Williams of the 80th Regiment.

In continuing his ride, the General went to Greenwich, a village situated at that time a mile and a half out of the city, but now in the very heart of it, where the German troops in English pay were stationed. Of all the mistakes made by England in that war—and they were many—the hiring of mercenaries to fight the Americans was perhaps the greatest. It irritated many loyal men into rebellion, and gave a union and cohesion to the disloyal, such as they never otherwise would have gained. Nor were the mercenaries very valuable as soldiers; they were discontented and quarrelsome; and to their want of vigilance was the irreparable disaster of Trenton wholly due. Even to this day, the Americans talk most bitterly of their being hired by the English to shoot down their own flesh and blood; and there can be no doubt that more soreness was due to this circumstance, than to any other connected with the war. Apart, however, from the general question, there was no Commanding officer whose management of the foreign troops displayed so much tact, as General Pattison. Whether it were on duty, or on such occasions as the celebrated ball given by him on the King's Birthday in 1780, which he opened with the wife of the German Baron who commanded at Greenwich, his courtesy and tact were always exerted to cement differences, or allay grievances.

Returning homewards from Greenwich, the General rode through a great many burnt streets, burnt by incendiaries the night after the English occupied New York, and at a fire which took place later;—past not a few churches which had been converted into prisons, riding-schools, and hospitals, for at times the sickness in the city was very great;—past Vauxhall, where Sir Peter Warren lived; past the house in Hanover Square where Prince William stayed, when sent out by the King in compliment to his American subjects; and past the dwelling of that most princely of dinner-givers, honest Admiral Walton. As he rode along, he passed printed anathemas on the walls against privateering, and notices of 20 guineas reward from the Government, and 10 guineas additional from the insurance offices, for the discovery of any man who should have seduced a soldier on board a privateer. There were no less than 5000 New Yorkers engaged during the war in this lawless occupation. It was certainly adding insult to injury, after the sleepless nights they sometimes caused to the General, but the owners of a very fast privateer had actually the impertinence to name their ship after him.

On his way home he rode into the Ordnance Yard, where a few words of comfort had to be spoken to the men whose wages were so disproportionate to those of ordinary civil labourers, that not merely were they discontented, but they could hardly live at all. Ordinary labourers in the city got 5_s._ a day, and skilled artisans could earn as much as 12_s._ and 15_s._; but in the Ordnance Yard the average wage was only 3_s._ a day and a ration, and in vain had the General urged on the Board of Ordnance to sanction some approximation to the wages of the other labourers in New York. While men could be got with ease near the Tower of London for 3_s._ a day, the Board of Ordnance might as well have been expected to pay more in America, as their clerks to learn geography.

The General having now returned to Broadway, let two or three instances be mentioned, in which he prominently figured during his command at New York, before closing this chapter.

The first shall be the only instance in which the General ever showed any symptom of insubordination. He forgot the soldier in the gunner. On the last day of May, 1779, he accompanied Sir Henry Clinton, the Commander-in-Chief, to within 3 miles of Stony Point on the Hudson; and as Artillery became necessary in carrying out the proposed attack, General Pattison was ordered to take command of the troops. During the night—a dark, moonless night—the Artillery for the service was got up, and the batteries completed by five o'clock in the morning, notwithstanding great difficulties, arising from a bad landing-place and a very steep precipice. Orders were then given to commence firing on the enemy's works, and, notwithstanding the great distance, the fire was soon seen to have been effectual. Sir Henry Clinton therefore sent instructions to the General to cease firing, but the General's blood was up. The range had been got to an inch and he hungered to go on; so instead of ceasing fire, he sent back an earnest request to be allowed a few more rounds. Very soon, however, a white flag was seen; and in a few minutes it was known that the whole rebel force had surrendered.

The next sketch may be said to show the culminating point of the General's career as Commandant of New York. The winter of 1779 was the hardest, it is believed, ever recorded in that city. The water was frozen between New York and Staten Island, and guns were carried over on sleighs. It was an anxious time. The insular advantages of New York disappeared before this unexpected high-road of ice; the Jerseys were swarming with Washington's troops; and as nearly the whole of the regular forces had gone from New York to Charlestown on special service, the General dreaded an attack which he might be unable to resist. Notwithstanding the croaking of many advisers, he called out, and resolved to arm, the inhabitants, to test the sincerity of their professions of loyalty, and to ascertain whether his rule in the city had been a successful one. To those who assured him that it was a rash measure, he answered that he felt confident that the number of doubtful characters was but trifling, and as those few would be blended in the ranks with the many who could be relied on, they would be less capable of doing mischief under arms, than if "left to lurk in their dwellings."

And the event proved that he was right. In a few hours he had 4300 loyal volunteers between 17 and 60 years of age, armed at their own expense, until arms could no longer be bought, when they received them from the King's stores; he had merchants of the city standing sentry on his own house; and so fired were the naval officers by his energy, that they landed all the sailors they could spare, and put them under his orders. In return, the General courteously named a new battery which he was building, the Royal Naval Battery, and gave it to the sailors to man. And the result was that the city remained unmolested.

The anxiety the General suffered during the winter of 1779 aggravated a complaint from which he had been suffering for some time, which he describes in his diary as "a stubborn disease which no medicine can allay," and he began to feel that rest and change were necessary. So he applied for, and obtained, leave of absence to go home for the benefit of the Bath waters; but so reluctant was he to leave his post that it was late in the autumn of 1780, before he actually sailed. During the few months immediately preceding his departure his correspondence is a mixture of explanations to the authorities at home of the reasons for his return, and entreaties to his officers to write to him at Bath, and keep him posted in all the news of the war. During the three years of his command he had got everything into such admirable order, that its transfer to his successor was simpler than could have been expected from its complicated and extensive nature. He received a perfect ovation on his departure, both from the civil and military part of the population; and the dear old man had hardly sat down in Bath, before he wrote off to all his old friends of the 4th Battalion.

In all that General Pattison did—whether on duty or not—he was essentially conscientious and hard-working. And these are the two qualities which rule the world. George Macdonald—in his lecture on Milton—said that on rising from a study of the poet's works, he felt that he had been gazing on one who was, in every noble sense of the word, _a man_. And the student of General Pattison's letters and orders feels also, in quitting the dusty tomes and faded letters, that he has been conversing with a true, a noble man.

A brief notice of his death will suitably close this chapter. He lived to be a very old man. Twice he was appointed Commandant of Woolwich, a command less onerous than that which he held in America, but still a prize to which every Artillery officer looks forward. At last on a March morning in the year 1805, that stubborn disease which indeed no medicine can allay, that old, old disease, death, stole into Hill Street, Berkeley Square, and touched on the shoulder, in his 82nd year, the gallant old soldier, a chapter in whose life has just been alluded to.

It was a year of note for England. War was going on in the East and in the West, and success had attended the English arms in both. Europe was bristling with armed men, whom the genius and the dread of Napoleon had produced; and in England alone, besides a gigantic regular army, 325,000 volunteers had rallied to protect the soil against a not improbable invasion. The cost of the army that year was over fourteen millions, in addition to which over four millions were voted for the Ordnance; and no less than four and a half millions more for the support of the militia and volunteers fell upon the groaning taxpayers. Nearly everything in England was taxed, and this year saw the taxes increased. A man's pension, office, personal estate, and everything that could be called a luxury was heavily mulct; if a legacy were left him, it shrank wofully in the process of reaching him; his profession or trade was made but another excuse for picking his pocket; if he smoked, the tax-gatherer waited round the corner; if he took snuff, the same relentless visitor called upon him; and yet, after all, the revenue of the country fell far short of its expenditure. The horrified fund-holder saw Consols quoted at 58, and yet Parliament borrowing right and left to make the two ends meet. Twenty-four millions were borrowed by annuities, and twelve millions by Exchequer bills; and driven to his wits' end by want of funds, the Chancellor of the Exchequer started lotteries to raise the wind.

A year of note in England. It was the year when Trafalgar was fought, and a country wept in the hour of victory for a life that could not be spared. A year when men were Titans; a fit year for a soldier to live; no unfit one in which he could die who had done to the very last his duty.

In March, 1805, the old General passed to his rest. Perhaps, as he lay dying, his mind wandered to the Far West, where so important a part of his career had been passed; to the Hudson, bound then in the grip of winter; to the trees at West Point waving their naked arms in the wind, as if praying for summer; to New York spreading in peace as it never could have spread in war; to that great country, destined to be greater yet, but ah! never to be so pure as in those days of its infancy as a Republic, whose people were listening—even as he died—to the words addressed to them by their new President, words of soberness and peace, such as Washington himself would have loved.

And so the old man went to sleep.

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